"But, June," said Daisy tenderly, "why do you feel bad about it?"

"I shouldn't, I s'pose," said the woman desperately, answering because
she was obliged to answer; "I hain't no right to feel so--if I felt
ready."

"How can one be ready, June? that is what I want to know. Aren't you
ready?"

"Do, don't, Miss Daisy!--the Lord have mercy upon us!" said June under
her breath, wrought up to great excitement, and unable to bear the look
of the child's soft grey eyes. "Why don't ye ask your papa about them
things? he can tell ye."

Alas, Daisy's lips were sealed. Not to father or mother would she apply
with any second question on this subject. And now she must not ask Mr.
Dinwiddie. She went to bed, turning the matter all over and over in her
little head.




CHAPTER II.


For some days after this time, Mrs. Randolph fancied that her little
daughter was less lively than usual; she "moped," her mother said. Daisy
was not moping, but it was true she had been little seen or heard; and
then it was generally sitting with a book in the Belvidere or on a bank
under a rose-bush, or going out or coming in with a book under her arm.