“It would have been a great pleasure if I could have taught her to read,” Daisy said, with her face brightening at the idea.

“I presume it would.  Well Daisy, now you and I will arrange this affair.  I do not consider it wholesome for you to engage in this particular amusement at this particular time; so I shall endorse Mrs. Randolph’s prohibition; but I will go round—­Where does this girl live, and who is she?”

“Her name is Hephzibah Harbonner; she lives in the village, on the road where the Episcopal church is—­you know;—­a little way further on.  I guess it’s a quarter of a mile.”

“South, eh?  Well, I will go round by her house and tell the girl that I cannot let you do any such kindnesses just now, and that till I give her leave she must not come to see you.  How will that do, Daisy?”

“Thank you, Dr. Sandford!”

He saw it was very earnestly spoken and that Daisy’s brow looked clearer.

“And instead of that amusement, you must study wonderful things to morrow.  Will you?”

“O yes, Dr. Sandford!  But we have not finished about the sun yet.”

“No.  Well—­to-morrow, then, Daisy.”

“Thank you, sir.  Dr. Sandford, mamma wanted me to ask you a question before you go.”

“Ask it.”

“How soon I can be moved home?”

“Are you in a great hurry?”

“No, sir, but I think mamma is.”

“You can bear to wait a little longer and study wonderful things from your window?”

“O yes, sir!  I think I can do it better here than at home, because my bed is so close to the window, I can look right out.”

“I shall not let you be moved just yet, Daisy.  Good night.  I will see—­what’s her name?”

“Harbonner—­Hephzibah Harbonner.”

“Good night.”

And Daisy watched the doctor as he went down the path, mounted his horse and rode away, with great admiration; thinking how handsome and how clever and how chivalric he was.  Daisy did not use that word in thinking of him; nevertheless his skilful nursing and his taking up her cause so effectually had made a great impression upon her.  She was greatly comforted.  Juanita, watching her face, saw that it looked so; there was even a dawning smile upon Daisy’s lips at one time.  It faded however into a deep gravity; and one or two long drawn breaths told of heavy thoughts.

“What troubles has my love?” said the old woman.

Daisy turned her head quick round from the window, and smiled a very sweet smile in her face.

“I was thinking, Juanita.”

“My little lady has a cloud come over her again.”

“Yes, Juanita, I think I have.  O Juanita, I might tell you!  What shall I do, when everybody wants me to do what—­what I don’t think is right?  What shall I do, Juanita?  I don’t know what I shall do.”

“Suppose Miss Daisy take the Bible to her pa’—­Miss Daisy knows what her pa’ promised.”