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Updated: June 17, 2025
But first she listened to Juanita's feet brushing through the grass to get to the well; and Daisy listened so hard she could almost tell after a while whether the grass was dry or whether it was heavy with dew. Juanita always carried the kettle to the well; and when she came back Daisy could hear the iron clink of the stove as the kettle was put on.
Daisy found that was a good time for her own prayers; there was nothing to disturb her, and nothing to be heard at all, except that soft sound of Juanita's voice and the clear trills and quavers of the little birds' voices in the trees. There was no disturbance in any of those sounds; nothing but joy and gladness and the voice of melody from them all.
Marcos had noted Juanita's lightness of heart. On recovering his senses the first use he had made of them was to observe her every glance and silence. There was no sign of present anxiety or of great emotion. The incident of the ring had no other meaning therefore, than a girlish love of novelty or a taste not hitherto made manifest, for personal ornament.
But Daisy shed a good many tears during Juanita's prayer that night. I do not know if the black woman shed any; but I know that some time afterwards, and until late in the night, she knelt again by Daisy's bedside, while a whisper of prayer, too soft to arouse the child's slumbers, just chimed with the flutter and rustle of the leaves outside of the window moving in the night breeze.
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.
But the loving strength of it won Daisy's heart; and when the prayer was finished she came close to the old woman and threw her arms round her as she stood, and wept with her face hid in Juanita's dress. Yet the prayer had comforted her too, greatly.
Juanita said not a word just then; she bustled about and made herself busy. Not that Juanita's busy ways were ever bustling in reality; she was too good a nurse for that; but she had several things to do. The first was to put up a screen at the foot of Daisy's couch.
Few men, and no women at all, can be happy in a life of their own choosing if they are assured by persons in daily intercourse with them persons whom they respect and love that in living that life they will assuredly be laying up for themselves an eternity of damnation. We must try and look at it from Juanita's point of view." Marcos turned and glanced at his father with a smile.
"Don't you like it, Miss Daisy?" "Yes, of course," I said; "but she does not." "It is not at all a matter of course," said he; "except as you are Daisy. Some people, as you have just told me, are afraid of the sun." "Oh, that is only for the carpets," I said. Dr. Sandford gave me a good look, like one of his looks of old times, that carried me right back somehow to Juanita's cottage.
"Oh, 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.
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