e died down; the moon and the stars shone steadily over the lower
world; and Daisy slept, and her two watchers were still. By and by,
another light began to break in the eastern horizon, and the stars grew
pale. The morning had come.

The birds were twittering in the branches before Daisy awoke. At the
first stir she made, her father and Mrs. Benoit were instantly at her
side. Mr. Randolph bent over her and asked tenderly how she felt.

"I feel hot, papa."

"Everybody must do that," said Mr. Randolph. "The breeze has died away
and the morning is very close."

"Papa, have you been awake all night?"

He stooped down, and kissed her.

"You must go home and get some breakfast and go to sleep," Daisy said,
looking at him lovingly with her languid eyes.

"Shall I bring you anything from home, Daisy?" he said, kissing her
again.

The child looked a little wistfully, but presently said no; and Mr.
Randolph left her to do as she had said. Mrs. Benoit was privately glad
to have him out of the way. She brought water and bathed Daisy's face
and hands, and gave her a delicate breakfast of orange; and contrived to
be a long while about it all, so as to rest and refresh her as much as
possible. But when it was all done, Daisy was very hot and weary and in
much pain. And the sun was only in the tops of the trees yet. The black
woman, stood considering her.

"It will be a hot day, Miss Daisy--and my little lady is suffering
already, when the dew is not dried off the grass. Can she say, 'Thank
the Lord?'"

Daisy first smiled at her; then the little pale face grew grave, the
eyelids fell, and the black woman saw tears gathering beneath them. She
stood looking somewhat anxiously down at the child; till after a few
minutes the eyelids were raised again and the eyes gave her a most meek
and loving response, while Daisy said faintly, "Yes, Juanita."

"Bless the Lord!" said Juanita with all her heart. "Then my love can
bear it, the hot day and the pain and all. When his little child trust
him, Jesus not stay far off. And when he giveth quietness, then who can
make trouble?"

"But I have a particular reason, Juanita. I am very glad of my hurt
foot; though it does ache."

"The aching will not be so bad by and by," said the woman, her kindly
face all working with emotion.

She stood there by Daisy's couch and prayed. No bathing nor breakfast
could so soothe and refresh Daisy as that prayer. While she listened and
joined in it,