Thus far; that her Bible was reckoned an undesirable treasure for her by her mother.  Was her own dear little particular Bible in danger? the one that Mr. Dinwiddie had given her?  Daisy was alarmed.  She did not enjoy any more battle-fields, nor enter with good heart into her history work from that time, until she could get up stairs again and see that it was safe, and contrive some way or place to keep it safe in time to come.  Where could such a place be?  It was a puzzle, because all Daisy’s things were, of course, open to her mother.  Perhaps Daisy’s fears were needless; but after the affair of her Egyptian spoon she looked with jealous eves not only on her Bible, but on her trilobite.  She sat down with a dismayed little face, to think where she could find a hiding-place.  She thought of putting the Bible under her bed or pillow; but the bed was turned over every morning, and the servants would find it.  None of her bureau drawers or cabinet drawers were secure.  Daisy pondered all manner of impossible places.  At last fixed upon a spot of the floor covered by an ottoman.  The ottoman was hollow and not very heavy, and never moved after the room was put in order every day.  Till the room was put in order Daisy hid her Bible in a drawer; then took it out and consigned it to the obscurity of the ottoman.

She was greatly afraid, then, of being found reading it.  She had not heard the words which passed between the doctor and her mother; only the word “Bible;” but the low tones made her well enough aware that the matter of their talk was somehow adverse; it boded nothing kindly to her and the Bible.  So Daisy was in another perplexity; and resolved that to be as safe as she could, she would read with locked doors for the future.  And as doors must not be locked at times when her mother might be coming and going, Daisy chose early morning and late evening for her Bible-reading.  She used to let June undress her, and finish all her duties of dressing-maid; then she sent her away and locked her doors, and read in comfort.  This lasted a little while; then one unlucky night Daisy forgot to unlock her doors.  The morning came, and June with it; but June could neither get in nor dare knock loud enough to make Daisy hear; she was obliged to come round through her mistress’s dressing-room.  But Daisy’s door on that side was locked too!  June was going softly away.

“What do you want?” said her mistress.

“If you please, ma’am,” said June, stopping very unwillingly—­“I thought it was time to wake Miss Daisy.”

“Why do you not go in, then?”

“Ma’am—­the door is locked,” said June, in a scarce audible undertone.

“Locked?—­knock.”

June went back and knocked.

“Louder,” said Mrs. Randolph, who was under her maid’s hands; “you would not waken a cat at that rate.  Make yourself heard.”

June’s taps, however, continued so fearfully gentle, that Mrs. Randolph, arose and came to the door herself.  One or two of the touches of her imperative fingers brought a little figure in white night-dress and just-awakened face, to open the door.