Daisy did not go in to luncheon. She did not like meeting all
the people who felt so gay, while she felt so much trouble.
Nor did she like being with her mother, whose manner all the
week had constantly reminded Daisy of what Daisy never forgot.
The rest of Saturday passed soberly away. There was a cloud in
the air.
And the cloud was high and dark Sunday morning, though it was
as fair a summer day as might be seen. Some tears escaped
stealthily from Daisy's eyes, as she knelt in the little
church beside her mother; but the prayers were deep and sweet
and strong to her, very much. Sadly sorry was Daisy when they
were ended. The rest of the service was little to her. Mr.
Pyne did not preach like Mr. Dinwiddie; and she left the
church with a downcast heart, thinking that so much of the
morning was past.
The rest of the day Daisy kept by herself, in her own room;
trying to get some comfort in reading and praying. For the
dread of the evening was strong upon her; every movement of
her mother spoke displeasure and determination. Daisy felt her
heart beating gradually quicker and quicker, as the hours of
the day wore on.
"Ye ain't well, Miss Daisy," — said June, who had come in as
usual without being heard.
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