Benoit proposed, as she several times did, to read to Daisy or
sing to her, she was always answered by a gentle, "No,
Juanita," which was as decided as it was gentle. The last
time, indeed, Daisy had yielded, and given assent to the
proposition; but Mrs. Benoit did not feel sure that she gave
anything else; either attention or approbation. Daisy's dinner
she had prepared with particular care; but it was not enjoyed;
Mrs. Benoit knew that. She sighed to herself, and then sang to
herself, in a softly kind of way; Daisy gave no heed, and only
lay still with her face turned to the window.
By and by, late in the afternoon, the doctor came in. He was
not a favourite of Mrs. Benoit, but she was glad to see him
now. She withdrew a little out of the way and watched to see
what he would say.
The doctor's first care as usual was the foot. That was going
on well. Having attended to that, he looked at Daisy's face.
It did not seem to him satisfactory, Mrs. Benoit saw; for his
next move was to the head of the couch, and he felt Daisy's
hand, while his eyes studied her.
"How do you do to-day?"
"I am getting better," said Daisy.
"Are you? Your voice sounds weak to-night."
"I do not suppose I am very strong.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364