She got
away without encountering her cousin, much to her
satisfaction.
Molly was not in her garden. That had happened before. Daisy
went in, looked at the flowers, and waited. The rose-tree was
flourishing; the geranium was looking splendid; with nothing
around either of them that in the least suited their
neighbourhood. So Daisy thought. If all the other plants — the
ragged balsams and "creeping Charley" and the rest — could
have been rooted up, then the geranium and the rose would have
shown well together. However, Molly did not doubtless feel
this want of suitability; to her the tall sunflower was, no
question, a treasure and a beautiful plant. Would Molly come
out?
It seemed as if she would not. No stir, and the closed house
door looking forbidding and unhopeful. Daisy waited, and
waited, and walked up and down the bit of a path, from the
gate quite to the house door; in hopes that the sound of her
feet upon the walk might be heard within. Daisy's feet did not
make much noise; but however that were, there was no stir of a
sound anywhere else. Daisy was patient; not the less the
afternoon was passing away, and pretty far gone already, and
it was the first of October now.
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