Little
Daisy herself lay just where her friend the Captain had left
her, but looked with curious expression at the others who
entered with him now. The father and mother advanced to the
head of the couch; the Captain and Juanita stood at the foot.
The doctor kept himself a little back.
"Are you suffering, Daisy?" Mr. Randolph asked.
The child's eyes went up to him. "Papa — _yes!_"
She had begun quietly, but the last word was given with more
than quiet expression, and the muscles about her lips
quivered.
Mr. Randolph stooped and pressed his own lips upon them.
"I have brought Dr. Sandford to look at your foot, Daisy. He
will see what it wants."
"Will he hurt me, papa?" said the child, apprehensively.
"I hope not. No more than is necessary."
"It hurts to have anybody touch it, papa."
"He must touch it, Daisy. Can't you bear it bravely?"
"Wait, papa!"
And again the child clasped her two hands over her face, and
was still. Mr. Randolph had no idea what for, though he
humoured her, and waited.
The Captain knew, for he had seen more of Daisy that day, and
he looked very grave indeed. The black woman knew, for as
Daisy's hands fell from her face, she uttered a deep, soft
"Amen!" which no one understood but one little heart.
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