open door. So the sunlight came in and looked at her; a little
figure in a white frock and blue sash, with the hair cut short
all over a little round head, and a face not only just now
full of some grave concern, but with habitually thoughtful
eyes and a wise little mouth. She did not seem to see the
sunlight which poured all over her, and lit up a wide, deep
hall, floored with marble, and opening at the other end on
trees and flowers, which showed the sunlight busy there too.
The child lingered wistfully. Then crossed the hall, and went
into a matted, breezy, elegant room, where a lady lay
luxuriously on a couch, playing with a book and a leaf-cutter.
She could not be _busy_ with anything in that attitude. Nearly
all that was to be seen was a flow of lavender silk flounces,
a rich slipper at rest on a cushion, and a dainty little cap
with roses on a head too much at ease to rest. By the side of
the lavender silk stood the little white dress, still and
preoccupied as before — a few minutes without any notice.

"Do you want anything, Daisy?"

"Mamma, I want to know something."

"Well, what is it?"

"Mamma" — Daisy seemed to be engaged on a very puzzling
question — "what does it mean to be a Christian?"

"_What?_" said her mother, rousing herself up for the first
times to look at her.