"I knew it was not right before."
There was yet again a silence; a tearful silence on one part.
Then Daisy raised her head, looking very meek.
"Juanita, what ought I to do?"
"What my love said," the black woman replied very tenderly.
"Please the Lord."
"Yes; but I mean, how shall I do that?"
"Jesus please not Himself; and He say, 'Follow me.' "
"Juanita, I believe I began to want to please myself very soon
after all this picture work and dressing began."
"Then it not please the Lord," said Juanita, decidedly.
"I know," said Daisy; "and it has been growing worse and
worse. But Juanita, I shall have to finish the play now — I
cannot help it. How shall I keep good? Can I?"
"My love knows the Good Shepherd carry His lamb in His bosom,
if she let Him. He is called Jesus, for He save His people
from their sins."
Daisy's face was very lowly; and very touching was the way she
bent her little head and passed her hand across her eyes. It
was the gesture of penitent gentleness.
"Tell me some more, Juanita."
"Let the Lord speak," said the black woman, turning ever her
well-used Bible. "See, Miss Daisy — 'Charity suffereth long,
and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself,
is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not
her own —' "
"I was puffed up," said Daisy, "because I was to wear those
beautiful things.
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