“No, sir; it is not a plaything, but I like to look at it.”

“Why?”

“It is so wonderful, and beautiful, I think.”

“But do tell Daisy, will you, doctor,” said Preston, “that it is a subject she cannot understand yet.  She wants me to bring her books about trilobites.”

“Time hangs heavy, Daisy?” said the doctor.

“No, sir—­only when I have nothing to do.”

“What have you done to-day?”

“Nothing, sir; except talking to papa and mamma,—­and some business about a little girl.”

The sedateness of this announcement was inexpressible, coming as it did after a little thoughtful pause.  Preston burst out laughing.  Dr. Sandford did not so far forget himself.  He only gave Daisy a rapid look of his grave blue eyes.

“It would be a charity to give you more employment than that,” he said.  “You like wonderful things, Daisy?”

“Very much, when I understand about them.”

“I will agree to tell you anything you please—­that I know—­about any wonderful things you can see to-morrow, looking from your window.”

The Doctor and Preston went off together, and left Daisy, though without books, in a high state of excitement and gratification.  The rest of the evening her little head was busy by turns with fancying the observations of the next day, and wondering what she could possibly find from her window to talk to the doctor about.  A very unpromising window Daisy considered it.  Nothing was to be seen beside trees and a little strip of road; few people passed by that way; and if there had, what wonder could there have been in that.  Daisy was half afraid she should find nothing to talk to the doctor about; and that would be a mortification.

Daisy and Juanita were both apt to be awake pretty early.  Lying there on her back all day, without power to run about and get tired, Daisy’s sleep was light; and her eyes were generally open before the sun got high enough to look at them.  Juanita was always up and dressed earlier even than that; how much earlier Daisy had no means of knowing; but she was sure to hear the murmur of her friend’s voice at her prayers, either in the other room or outside of the house.  And Juanita did not come in to see Daisy till she had been awake a good while, and had had leisure to think over a great many things.  Daisy found that was a good time for her own prayers; there was nothing to disturb her, and nothing to be heard at all, except that soft sound of Juanita’s voice and the clear trills and quavers of the little birds’ voices in the trees.  There was no disturbance in any of those sounds; nothing but joy and gladness and the voice of melody from them all.