"Do you like to think of it, June?"

The child's searching eyes were upon her. The woman half
laughed, half answered, and turning aside, broke down and
burst into tears.

"What's the matter, June?" said Daisy, coming nearer and
speaking awedly; for it was startling to see that stony face
give way to anything but its habitual formal smile. But the
woman recovered herself almost immediately, and answered as
usual: "It's nothing, Miss Daisy." She always spoke as if
everything about her was "nothing" to everybody else.

"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