Daisy was somehow sorry to see them; they
looked like preparations for staying.
"We will send for June to-morrow, Daisy, if your mamma will
leave you still with me."
"Oh, I shall go home to-morrow — I hope," said Daisy. "I hope
—" she repeated, humbly.
"Yes, I hope so," said Mrs. Sandford. She kissed Daisy and
went away. It was all Daisy wanted, to be alone. The October
night was mild; she went to the window; one of the windows,
which looked out upon the grass and trees of the courtyard,
now lighted by a faint moon. Daisy sunk down on her knees
there; the sky and the stars were more homelike than anything
else; and she felt so strange, so miserable, as her little
heart had never known anything like before. She knew well
enough what it all meant, her mother's sending her away from
home, her father's not being able to bear any disturbance.
Speak as lightly, look as calmly as they would, she knew what
was the meaning underneath people's faces and voices. Her
father had been very much hurt; quite well Daisy was assured
of that. He was too ill to see her, or too ill for her mother
to like her to see him. Daisy knelt down; she remembered she
had a Father in heaven, but it seemed at first as if she was
too broken-hearted to pray.
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