" She determined to ask her
father. "Stick ourselves up?" said Daisy thoughtfully — "we
_never_ do!"
So she touched the pony, who was falling into a very leisurely
way of trotting, and in good time came to Mrs. Parsons' door.
Daisy went in. The daughter was busy at some ironing in the
outer room; she was a dull, lack-lustre creature, and though
she comprehended the gifts that had been brought her, seemed
hardly to have life enough to thank the donor. That wasn't
quite like a fairy tale, Daisy thought. No doubt this poor
woman must have things to eat, but there was not much fun in
bringing them to her. Daisy was inclined to wonder how she had
ever come to marry anybody with so lively a name as Lark. But
before she got away, Mrs. Lark asked Daisy to go in and see
her mother, and Daisy, not knowing how to refuse, went in as
requested.
What a change! Another poor room to be sure, very poor it
looked to Daisy; with its strip of rag carpet on the floor,
its rush-bottomed chairs, and paper window-shades; and on the
bed lay the bed-ridden woman. But with such a nice pleasant
face; eyes so lively and quiet, smile so contented, brow so
calm, Daisy wondered if it could be she that must lie there
always and never go about again as long as she lived.
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