The next minute her tone changed and her look.
"What ails my love ?" "Juanita--" said Daisy standing still and pale by the ironing table, "-- haven't you heard?
Papa--" "What, Miss Daisy ?" "Papa--he was knocked off his horse yesterday--_and they won't let me see him!_" So far Daisy's power of composure went, and no further.

With that last word her voice failed.

She threw her arms around Juanita, and hiding her face in her gown, burst into such tears as Daisy rarely shed at all; very rarely under any one's observation.

Juanita, very much startled, sat down and drew the child into her arms, so far as she could; for Daisy had sunk on her knees, and with her face in Juanita's lap was weeping all her heart out.

Mrs.Benoit hardly knew how to ask questions.
"Why must not Miss Daisy see her papa ?" "I don't know!--I suppose--he's not well enough." Juanita breathed more freely.
"Let us pray for him, Miss Daisy." "O yes, Juanita, do!--" There was an intensity of meaning in these words and in Daisy's hurried assuming of another place and posture to leave Juanita free to kneel too, that almost took away the black woman's power of speech.