“This is a most maladroit arrangement of Capt.  Drummond’s!” said the lady.  “What can we do to rectify it?  A most stupid place for the child to be.”

“She will have to bear the stupidity—­and we too.  Daisy, what would you like to have to help it along?”

“Papa, I am not stupid.”

“You will be, my little daughter, I am afraid, before the weeks are over.  Will you have June come to be with you?”

“Papa,” said Daisy slowly,—­“I think it would not be considerate.”

“Are you comfortable?” said Mr. Randolph smiling, though his looks expressed much concern.

“No, papa.”

“What is the matter?”

“It is hot, papa; and my leg aches; not so much as it did last night sometimes; but it aches.”

“It is a cool, fresh morning,” said Mrs. Randolph.  “She is hot because she is lying in this place.”

“Not very cool, with the mercury at eighty-four before eight o’clock.  You are cool because you have been driving fast.”

“Mr. Randolph, this is no proper place for the child to be.  I am convinced she might be moved with safety.”

“I cannot risk the doctor’s convictions against yours, Felicia.  That question must be given up.”

“He says I am under his orders, papa.”

“Undeniable, Daisy.  That is true doctrine.  What orders does he give you?”

“To eat fruit, and keep quiet, papa.  He says there must not be more than one person here at a time, besides Juanita.”

“I suppose he does not mean to forbid your mother,” said Mrs. Randolph, a good deal incensed.  “I will see about that.  Here, my good woman—­where are you?—­Will you let your cottage to me for the time that this child is confined here—­and remove somewhere else yourself, that I may put the people here I want about her?”

“Oh mamma!—­” said Daisy.  But she stopped short; and Mrs. Randolph did not attend to her.  Mr. Randolph looked round to see Juanita’s answer.

“My lady shall put here who she will please,” the woman said, standing before her visiters with the most unruffled face and demeanour.

“And you will leave me the house at once?”

“No, my lady.  My lady shall have the house.  Juanita will not be in the way.”

“You do not seem to understand, my good woman, that I want to be here myself and have my people here.  I want the whole house.”

“My lady shall have it—­she is welcome—­nobody shall find Juanita trouble them,” the black woman said with great sweetness.

“What will you do with yourself?”

“A little place be enough for me, my lady.  My spirit lives in a large home.”

Mrs. Randolph turned impatiently away.  The manner of the woman was so inexpressibly calm and sweet, the dignity of her beautiful presence was so immovable, that the lady felt it in vain to waste words upon her.  Juanita was a hopeless case.

“It is no use for me to be here then,” she said.  “Mr. Randolph, you may make your own arrangements.”