"Conscience, my dear," said her sister. "I am not at all
surprised. I wonder if anybody has been to church to-day?"
"I am sorry for the clergyman, if anybody has," remarked Gary.
Mrs. Randolph's arm had slipped from Daisy, and Daisy slipped
away from her mother's sofa to the table; where she clipped
sponge biscuits in milk, and wondered at other people's
Sundays. A weight seemed settling down on her heart. She could
not bear to hear the talk; she ate her supper, and then sat
down on the threshold of one of the glass doors that looked
towards the west, and watched the beautiful colours on the
clouds over the mountains; and softly sung to herself the tune
she had heard in the morning. So the colours faded away, and
the light, and the dusk grew on, and still Daisy sat in the
window-door, humming to herself. She did not know that Gary
McFarlane had stolen up close behind her and gone away again.
He went away just as company came in; some gay neighbours who
found the evening tempting, and came for a little diversion.
Lamps were lit, and talking and laughing went round, till Mrs.
Randolph asked where Daisy was.
"In the window, singing to the stars," Gary McFarlane
whispered.
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