“So he did, Juanita! thank you.  I had forgotten that.”

In five minutes more Daisy was fast asleep.  The black woman stood looking at her.  There was no cloud on the little face now, but the signs of the day’s work were there.  Pale cheeks, and weary features, and the tokens of past tears.  Juanita stood and looked, and twinkled away one or two from her own eye-lashes; and then knelt down at the head of the bed and began a whispered prayer.  A prayer for the little child before her, in which her heart poured itself out, that she might be kept from evil, and might walk in the straight path, and never be tempted or driven from it.  Juanita’s voice grew louder than a whisper in her earnestness; but Daisy slept on.

CHAPTER XX.

The next day was an exceedingly hot and sultry one.  Daisy had no visiters until quite late in the afternoon; however it was a peaceful day.  She lay quiet and happy, and Juanita was quite as well contented that the house should be empty and they two alone.  Late in the afternoon, Preston came.

“Well my dear little Daisy! so you are coming home”

“Am I?” said Daisy.

“To be sure; and your foot is going to get well, and we are going to have all sorts of grand doings for you.”

“My foot is getting well.”

“Certainly.  Don’t be a Quaker, Daisy.”

“What sort of doings are you going to have, Preston?”

“First thing—­as soon as you are well enough for it—­we are going to have a grand pic-nic party to Silver Lake.”

“Silver Lake? what, on the other side of the river?”

“Yes.”

“O how delightful!  But I shall not be able to go in a long time, Preston.”

“Yes, you will.  Aunt Felicia says you are coming back to Melbourne now; and once we get you there, we’ll cure you up.  Why you must have moped half your wits away by this time.  I don’t expect to find more than two-thirds of the original Daisy left.”

“I haven’t moped at all.”

“There! that is proof the first.  When people are moping and do not know they are moping, that is the sign their wits are departing.  Poor Daisy!  I don’t wonder.  We’ll get you to rights at Melbourne.”

“Doctor Sandford will not let me be moved.”

“Doctor Sandford cannot help himself.  When aunt Felicia says so, he will find ways and means.”

“Preston,” said Daisy, “I do not think you understand what sort of a man Dr. Sandford is.”

“Pray enlighten me, Daisy.  I thought I did.”

But Daisy was silent.

“What sort of a man is he?”

“Preston,” said Daisy abruptly, “I wish you would bring me from Melbourne that tray filled with something,—­plaster,—­I don’t know what it is,—­on which Capt.  Drummond and I studied geography, and history.”

“Geography and history on a tray!” said Preston.  “That would be one’s hands full to carry!”