“Yes,” said Nora, working away.

“Just see the river—­it’s so smooth.  And look up into the leaves;—­how pretty they are!—­and every one of them is trembling a little; not one of them is still, Nora.  How beautiful the green is, with the sun shining through!  Wouldn’t you like to be a bird up there?”

“No,” said Nora; “I’d rather be down here.”

“I think it would be nice to be a bird.” said Daisy; “it must be pleasant up in those branches—­only the birds don’t know anything, I suppose.  What do you think heaven must be like, Nora?”

“Daisy, you’re so funny.  What makes you think about heaven?”

“Why, you know,” said Daisy slowly, “I expect to go there.  Why shouldn’t I think about it?”

“But you won’t go there till you die,” said Nora.

“I don’t see what that has to do with my thinking about it.  I shall die, some time.”

“Yes, but Daisy, don’t be so queer.  You are not going to die now.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Daisy; “but I like to think of heaven.  Jesus is there.  Isn’t it pleasant, Nora, that he can see us always, and knows what we are doing?”

“Daisy, Marmaduke said he wished you would invite him to your party.”

The turn Nora wished to give to Daisy’s thoughts took effect for the moment.  It was grievous; to wish so much for her friend and to have him join in the wish, and all in vain.  But, characteristically, Daisy said nothing.  She was only silent a moment.

“Nora, did you ever hear Mr. Dinwiddie say that poor people disliked rich people?”

“No.  They don’t dislike him, I know.”

“Is Mr. Dinwiddie rich too?”

“Of course he is,” said Nora.

“I shouldn’t think anybody would dislike him,” said Daisy; “but then he never seemed like rich people.”  She went into a muse about it.

“Well, he is,” said Nora.  “He has got as much money as he wants, I know.”

“Nora, you know the parable of the servants and the talents?”

“Yes.”

“Are you one of the good servants?”

Nora looked up very uneasily.  Daisy’s face was one of quiet inquiry.  Nora fidgeted.

“Daisy, I wish you would be like yourself, as you used to be, and not talk so.”

“But are you, Nora?”

“No, I don’t suppose I am!  I couldn’t do much.”

“But would you like to have the King say to you what he said to the servant who had one talent and didn’t do anything?”

“Daisy, I don’t want to have you talk to me about it,” said Nora, a little loftily.  “I have got Marmaduke to talk to me, and that’s as much as I want.”

“I mean to be one of them!” said Daisy gently.  “Jesus is the king; and it makes me so glad to think of it!—­so glad, Nora.  He is my king, and I belong to him; and I love to give him all I’ve got; and so would you, Nora.  I only want to find out all I have got, that I may give it to him.”