“Now Hephzibah,” said she, “do you know anything about what is in the Bible?”

Hephzibah shook her head in a manner the reverse of encouraging.

“Did you never read the Bible, nor have any one read it to you?”

Another shake.

Daisy thereupon began to tell her little neighbour the grand story which concerned them both so nearly, making it as clear and simple as she could.  Hephzibah’s eyes were fixed on her intently all the while; and Daisy, greatly interested herself, wondered if any of the interest had reached Hephzibah’s heart, and made the gaze of her eyes so unwavering.  They expressed nothing.  Daisy hoped, and went on, till at a pause Hephzibah gave utterance to the first words (of her own) that she had spoken during the interview.  They came out very suddenly, like an unexpected jet of water from an unused fountain.

“Mother says, you’re the fus’ratest little girl she ever see!”

Daisy was extremely confounded.  The thread of her discourse was so thoroughly broken indeed, that she could not directly begin it again; and in the minute of waiting she saw how low the sun was.  She dismissed Hephzibah. telling her to be at the Belvidere the same hour next Sunday.

As the shaggy little red head moved away through the bushes, Daisy watched it, wondering whether she had done the least bit of good.  Then another thought made her heart beat, and she turned again to see how low the sun was.  Instead of the sun she saw Gary McFarlane.

“Who is that, Daisy?” said he, looking after the disappearing red head.

“A poor little girl—­” said Daisy.

“So I should think,—­very poor!—­looks so indeed!  How came she here?”

“She came by my orders, Mr. McFarlane.”

“By your orders!  What have you got there, Daisy?  Let’s see!  As sure as I’m alive!—­a spelling book.  Keeping school, Daisy?  Don’t say no!”

Daisy did not say no, nor anything.  She had taken care not to let Gary get hold of her Bible; the rest she must manage as she could.

“This is benevolence!” went on the young man.  “Teaching a spelling lesson in a Belvidere with the thermometer at 90 deg. in the shade?  What sinners all the rest of us are!  I declare, Daisy, you make me feel bad.”

“I should not think it, Mr. McFarlane.”

“Daisy, you have a plomb enough for a princess, and gravity enough for a Puritan!  I should like to see you when you are grown up,—­only then I shall be an old man, and it will be of no consequence.  What do you expect to do with that little red head?—­now do tell me.”

“She don’t know anything, Mr. McFarlane.”

“No more don’t I!  Come Daisy—­have pity on me.  You never saw anybody more ignorant than I am.  There are half a dozen things at this moment which I don’t know—­and which you can tell me.  Come, will you?”

“I must go in, Mr. McFarlane.”