"
"Yes, Miss Daisy."
"They are playing pictures at home. I mean, we are. Mamma is
going to give a great party next week; and the pictures are to
be all made and shown at the party. There are twelve pictures;
and they will be part of the entertainment. There is to be a
gauze stretched over the door of the library, and the pictures
are to be seen behind the gauze."
"And does Miss Daisy like the play?" the black woman inquired,
not lightly.
"Yes, Juanita — I like some things about it. It is very
amusing. There are some things I do not like."
"Did Miss Daisy wish to talk to me about those things she not
like?"
"I don't know, Juanita — no, I think not. Not about those
things. But I do not exactly know about myself."
"What Miss Daisy not know about herself?"
"I do not know exactly — whether it is right."
"Whether what be right, my love?"
Daisy was silent at first, and looked puzzled.
"Juanita — I mean — I don't know whether I am right."
"Will my love tell what she mean?"
"It is hard, Juanita. But — I don't think I am quite right. I
want you to tell me what to do."
Daisy's little face looked perplexed and wise. — And sorry.
"What troubles my love?"
"I do not know how it was, Juanita — I did not care at all
about it at first; and then I began to care about it a little
— and now —"
"What does my love care about?"
"About being dressed, Juanita; and wearing mamma's jewels, and
looking like a picture.
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