Sandford," said his wife. "Daisy cannot feel about
it just as you do."
"Never been thrown yet herself, eh! Give her one of those
peaches, my dear — she will like that better than meats to-
day. Eat one of my red-cheeked peaches, Daisy; and tell me
whether you have any so good at Melbourne. I don't believe
it."
Daisy peeled her peach. It was all she could bear to do. She
peeled it carefully and slowly; there never was a peach so
long in paring; for it was hardly more than finished when they
rose from table. She had tried to taste it too; that was all;
the taste never reached her consciousness. Mrs. Sandford knew
better than her husband, and let her alone.
Daisy could think of nothing now but to watch for the doctor;
and to do it with the most comfort and the best chance she
placed herself on the steps of the piazza, sitting down on the
uppermost step. It was a fair evening, warm and mild; and Mrs.
Sandford sitting in her drawing-room with the windows open was
but a few feet from Daisy, and could observe her. She did so
very often, with a sorrowful eye. Daisy's attitude bespoke her
intentness; the child's heart was wound up to such a pitch of
expectation that eye and ear were for nothing else.
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