_, Molly; that which you were wishing for. He will forgive us,
and make us good, and set his mark upon us; and then we shall wear those
robes that are made white in his blood, and be with him in heaven. And
that is life."

"You and me?" said Molly.

"O yes! Molly--anybody. It says 'whosoever is athirst.'"

"Where's the words?" said Molly.

Daisy shewed her; and Molly made a deep mark in the paper under them
with her nail; so deep as to signify that she meant to have them for
present study or future reference or both. Then, as Molly seemed to
have said her say, Daisy said no more and went away.

It was still not late in the afternoon; and Daisy drove on, past the
Melbourne gates, and turned the corner into the road which led to Crum
Elbow. The air was as clear as October could have it; and soft, neither
warm nor cold; and the roads were perfect; and here and there a few
yellow and red maple leaves, and in many places a brown stubble field,
told that autumn was come. It was as pleasant a day for drive as could
possibly be; and yet Daisy's face was more intent upon her pony's ears
than upon any other visible thing. She drove on towards Crum Elbow, but
before she reached it she turned another corner, and drew up before
Juanita's house.

It was not the first visit she had made here since going home; though
Daisy had in truth not come often nor stayed long. All the more glad
were Juanita and she to see each other now. Daisy took off her flat and
sat down on the old chintz couch, with a face of content. Yet it was
grave content; not joyous at all. So Juanita's keen eyes saw, through
all the talking which went on. Daisy and she had a great deal to say to
each other; and among other things the story of Molly came in and was
enlarged upon; though Daisy left most of her own doings to be guessed
at. She did not tell them more than she could well help. However, talk
went on a good while, and still when it paused Daisy's face looked
thoughtful and careful. So Juanita saw.

"Is my love quite well?"

"O yes, Juanita. I am quite well. I think I am getting strong, a
little."

Juanita's thanksgiving was earnest. Daisy looked very sober.

"Juanita, I have been wanting to talk to you."

Now they had been talking a good deal; but this, the black woman saw,
was not what Daisy meant.

"What is it, my love?"

"I don't know, Juanita. I think I am puzzled."

The fine face of Mrs. Benoit looked gravely attentive, and a little
an