Nevertheless, Daisy
mused a little over some things that were not altogether
pleasant. The faces that she scanned had none of them the
placid nobleness of the face of her black nurse; no voice
within her hearing had such sweet modulation; and Daisy felt a
consciousness that Juanita's little cottage lay within the
bounds of a kingdom which Mrs. Randolph's drawing-room had no
knowledge of. Gradually Daisy's head became full of that
thought; along with the accompanying consciousness, that a
subject of that kingdom would be alone here and find nobody to
help her.
"Daisy, what's the matter?" whispered Preston. "You are as
sober as a judge."
"Am I?" said Daisy.
"What's to pay?"
"Nothing. I feel very nicely."
"Why don't you look like other people, then?"
"I suppose," said Daisy, slowly, "I do not feel like other
people."
"I wish you'd make haste about it, then," said Preston. "Do be
my own dear little old Daisy! Don't be grave and wise."
"Are you going to spend the night here, Daisy?" said Dr.
Sandford, coming up to the sofa.
"No, sir," said Daisy, smiling.
"Where then?"
"I suppose, in my room, sir — up-stairs."
"I must see you there before I go; and it is time now.
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