Mrs. Randolph indignantly let this statement of opinion alone.

Little Daisy had a quiet day, meanwhile.  The weather grew excessively hot; her broken ankle pained her; it was a day of suffering.  Obliged to lie quite still; unable to change her position even a little, when the couch became very hot under her; no air coming in at the open window but what seemed laden with the heats of a furnace, Daisy lay still and breathed as well as she could.  All day Juanita was busy about her; moistening her lips with orange juice, bathing her hands, fanning her, and speaking and singing sweet words to her, as she could attend to them.  The child’s eyes began to go to the fine black face that hovered near her, with an expression of love and trust that was beautiful to behold.  It was a day that tried poor little Daisy’s patience; for along with all this heat, and weary lying still in one position, there were shoots and twitches of pain that seemed to come from the broken ankle and reach every part of her body; and she could not move about or turn over to ease them by some change.

At last the weary hours began to grow less oppressive.  The sun got low in the sky; the air came with a little touch of freshness.  How good it was to see the sun lost behind the woods on the other side the road.  Juanita kindled her fire again and put on the kettle; for Daisy was to have another cup of tea, and wanted it very much.  Then, before the kettle had boiled, came the doctor.

It was a pleasant variety.  Dr. Sandford’s face was a good one to see come in anywhere, and in Daisy’s case very refreshing.  It was so noble a face; the features fine, manly, expressive; with a sedate gravity that spoke of a character above trifling.  His calm, forceful eye was very imposing; the thick auburn locks of his hair, pushed back as they were from, his face, were beautiful to Daisy’s imagination.  Altogether he fastened her attention whenever he came within reach of it; she could not read those grave lines of his face; she puzzled over them.  Dr. Sandford’s appearance was in some way bewitching to her.  Truly many ladies found it so.

He examined now the state of her foot; gave rapid comprehensive glances at everything; told his orders to Mrs. Benoit.  Finally, paused before going, and looked into the very wise little eyes that scanned him so carefully.

“Is there anything you want, Daisy?” he said with a physician’s familiarity.

“No, sir,—­I thank you.”

“Mrs. Benoit takes good care of you?”

“Very good.”

The manner of Daisy’s speech was like her looks; childlike enough, and yet with a deliberate utterance unlike a child.

“What do you think about, as you lie there all day?” he said.

The question had been put with a somewhat careless curiosity; but at that he saw a pink flush rise and spread itself all over Daisy’s pale face; the grey eyes looked at him steadily, with no doubt of some thoughts behind them.  Dr. Sandford listened for her answer.  What was the child thinking about?  She spoke at last with that same sweet deliberateness.