Juanita was silent again.

“Is it right, Juanita?”

“Why do Miss Daisy think it not right?”

Daisy looked undecided and perplexed.

“Juanita—­I wasn’t quite sure.”

“Miss Daisy like to play in these pictures?”

“Yes, Juanita—­and I like—­Juanita, I like it!”

“And another little girl, Miss Daisy say, like it too?”

“Yes, I think they all do.  But there is a little girl that wants to take my part.”

“And who Miss Daisy want to please?”

Daisy hesitated, and her eyes reddened; she sat a minute still; then looked up very wistfully.

“Juanita, I think I want to please myself.”

“Jesus please not himself”—­said the black woman.

Daisy made no answer to that.  She bent over and hid her little head in Mrs. Benoit’s lap.  And tears undoubtedly came, though they were quiet tears.  The black woman’s hand went tenderly over the little round head.

“And he say to his lambs—­’Follow me.’”

“Juanita”—­Daisy spoke without raising her head—­“I want to please him most.”

“How Miss Daisy think she do that?”

Daisy’s tears now, for some reason, came evidently, and abundantly.  She wept more freely in Juanita’s lap than she would have done before father or mother.  The black woman let her alone, and there was silent counsel-taking between Daisy and her tears for some time.

“Speak to me, Juanita”—­she said at last.

“What my love want me to say?”

“It has been all wrong, hasn’t it, Juanita?  O have I, Juanita?”

“What, my love?”

“I know I have,” said Daisy.  “I knew it was not right before.”

There was yet again a silence; a tearful silence on one part.  Then Daisy raised her head, looking very meek.

“Juanita, what ought I to do?”

“What my love said,” the black woman replied very tenderly.  “Please the Lord.”

“Yes; but I mean, how shall I do that?”

“Jesus please not himself; and he say, ‘Follow me.’”

“Juanita, I believe I began to want to please myself very soon after all this picture work and dressing began.”

“Then it not please the Lord,” said Juanita decidedly.

“I know,” said Daisy; “and it has been growing worse and worse.  But Juanita, I shall have to finish the play now—­I cannot help it.  How shall I keep good?  Can I?”

“My love knows the Good Shepherd carry his lamb in his bosom, if she let him.  He is called Jesus, for he save his people from their sins.”

Daisy’s face was very lowly; and very touching was the way she bent her little head and passed her hand across her eyes.  It was the gesture of penitent gentleness.

“Tell me some more, Juanita.”

“Let the Lord speak,” said the black woman turning over her well used Bible.  “See, Miss Daisy—­’Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own—­’”