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Updated: June 17, 2025
She lay just a few feet from the door, and everybody coming to the door, and having it opened, could look in if he pleased; and so Daisy would have no privacy at all. That would not do; Juanita's wits went to work to mend the matter. Her little house had been never intended for more than one person. There was another room in it, to be sure, where Mrs.
Juanita's constant habit of thankfulness and of expressing her thankfulness, during the weeks Daisy had spent with her, had gone down into the child's heart. With every meal, though taken by herself all alone, Daisy had seen the old woman acknowledging gratefully from whose hand she got it. And with other things beside meals; and it had seemed sweet and pleasant to Daisy to do so.
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.
Juanita's helplessness seemed to have aroused a steady determination to help her at any cost. Weakness is an appeal that strength rarely resists. It was Marcos who finally discovered an opportunity, and with characteristic patience he sifted it, and organised a plan of action before making anything known to his father.
But Juanita knelt upright, her face half turned so that they could see her clear-cut profile against the candle-light beyond. To those who study human nature, every attitude or gesture is of value; there were energy and courage in the turn of Juanita's head. She was listening. Near to her the motionless black form of Sor Teresa towered among the worshippers.
"Where is Marcos?" she asked. "He is taking a siesta," answered Sarrion. "Like a poor man." "Yes, like a poor man. He was not in bed all last night. You had a narrower escape of being made a nun than you suspect." Juanita's face fell. She went to the window and stood there looking out. "When are we going to Torre Garda?" she asked, after a long silence. "I hate towns ... and people.
"Juanita" Daisy spoke without raising her head "I want to please him most." "How Miss Daisy think she do that?" Daisy's tears now, for some reason, came evidently, and abundantly. She wept more freely in Juanita's lap than she would have done before father or mother. The black woman let her alone, and there was silent counsel-taking between Daisy and her tears for some time.
They were pleasant days I had in Juanita's cottage at the time when my ankle was broken; there were hours of sweetness with crippled Molly; and it was simply delight I had all alone with my pony Loupe, driving over the sunny and shady roads, free to do as I liked and go where I liked. And how I enjoyed studying English history with my cousin Preston.
Gordon is able to defend himself," she replied scornfully. "Didn't know I was defending myself. What's the charge against me?" asked the young miner with a touch of quiet insolence. "There isn't any if you don't see what it is. And you're quite right, Mr. Gordon. Your difficulties with Pablo are none of my business. You'll have to settle them yourselves with Juanita's help.
The soldiers of Juanita's dream seemed to have vanished like the shadows to which she compared them. "I am sure," said Cousin Peligros, while they were still at the table, "that the sound of firing approaches. I have a very delicate hearing. All my senses are very highly developed. The sound of the firing is nearer, Marcos."
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