The consternation that sits upon two of three faces turned toward her, is indeed ludicrous, and Franz Francoise utters an audible chuckle. Then the elders find their tongues. "Ah," groans Papa, "she's jokin' at the poor old folks." "Ah," sighs Mamma, "there's no such luck for poor people." "Reassure yourselves," says Leslie calmly. "I have given you all my money; my husband is dead; my little step-daughter has been stolen, or worse, and I have been accused of the crime." She pauses to note the effect of her words, but strangely enough, Franz Francoise is the only one who gives the least sign of surprise. "I am disinherited," continues Leslie, "cast out from my home, friendless and penniless. You have claimed me as your child, and I have come to you." Still she is closely studying the faces of the elder Francoises, and she does not note the intent eyes that are, in turn, studying her own countenance: the eyes of Franz Francoise. The two old plotters look at each other, and then turn away. Rage, chagrin, baffled expectation, speak in the looks they interchange. Franz is the first to relapse into indifference and stolidity. "But, my girl," Papa begins, excitedly, "this can't be! You are a widow--ah, yes, poor child, we know that. But, my dear, a widow has rights. The law, my child, the law--" "You mistake," says Leslie coldly, "the law will do nothing for me." "But it must," argues Papa. "They can't keep you out o' your rights. The law--" Leslie rises and turns to face him, cutting short his speech by a gesture. "There is a higher law than that made by man," she says sternly; "the law that God has implanted in heart and conscience. That law bids me renounce all claims to my husband's wealth. Understand this: I am penniless. There is but one thing that could induce me to claim and use what the law will give me." "And what is that?" asks Papa, in a wheedling tone, while Mamma catches her breath to listen. "That," says Leslie slowly, "is the restoration of little Daisy Warburton." CHAPTER XLII. AN AFFECTIONATE FAMILY. A sudden silence has fallen upon the group, and as Leslie's clear, sad eyes rest upon first one face and then the other, Papa begins to fidget nervously. "Oh, yes," he sighs, "we heard about that." And then Mamma comes nearer, saying in a cat-like, purring tone: "The poor little dear! And you can't find her?" As she speaks, Franz Francoise shifts his position carelessly, placing himself where he can note the expressions of the two old faces. But Leslie's enforced calmness is fast deserting her.