Juanita went to the well for some cold water, and mixed with it a spoonful of currant jelly.  It was refreshing to the poor little dry lips.

“What will my love have next?”

“I don’t know,” said Daisy—­“my foot aches a good deal, and all my leg.  I think—­Juanita—­I would like it if you would read to me.”

Juanita took a somewhat careful survey of her, felt her hands, and finally got the book.

“Is there too much air for my love from that window?”

“No, it is nice,” said Daisy.  “I can see the stars so beautifully, with the clouds driving over the sky.  Every now and then they get between me and the stars—­and then the stars look out again so bright.  They seem almost right over me.  Please read, Juanita.”

Mrs. Benoit did not consider that it made much difference to Daisy where she read; so she took the chapter that came next in the course of her own going through the New Testament.  It was the eighth chapter of Mark.  She read very pleasantly; not like a common person; and with a slight French accent.  Her voice was always sweet, and the words came through it as loved words.  It was very pleasant to Daisy to hear her; the long chapter was not interrupted by any remark.  But when Mrs. Benoit paused at the end of it, Daisy said,

“How can anybody be ashamed of him, Juanita?”

The last verse of the chapter has these words—­

“Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

“How can anybody be ashamed of him, Juanita?”

“They not see the glory of the Lord, my lady.”

“But we do not see it yet.”

“My love will see it.  Juanita has seen it.  This little house be all full of glory sometimes, when Jesus is here.”

“But that is because you love him, Juanita.”

“Praise the Lord!” echoed the black woman.  “He do shew his glory to his people, before he come with the holy angels.”

“I don’t see how anybody can be ashamed of him,” Daisy repeated, uttering the words as if they contained a simple impossibility.

“My little lady not know the big world yet.  There be ways, that the Lord know and that the people not know.”

“What do you mean, Juanita?”

“My lady will find it,” said the black woman folding her arms.  “When all the world go one way, then folks not like to go another way and be looked at; they be ashamed of Christ’s words then, and they only think they do not want to be looked at.”

A colour came all over Daisy’s face—­a suffusion of colour; and tears swam in her eyes.

“I didn’t like to be looked at, the other night!” she said, in a self-accusing tone.

“Did my love turn and go with the world?”

“No, I didn’t do that.”