"No, I don't think so. I'm better than I was—a great deal," said Daisy. "My head isn't so strange, and I don't seem to be so startled at everything. If only my legs didn't feel so heavy, I should think I was going to be quite well very soon indeed. Nursie, dear, I want to see father presently, but I do want first, please, to try if I can stand."
"You can't stand," said Mary gravely.
"I want to make sure. Father is sure to ask me, and then I can tell him that I've tried. I really can sit up a little now, with the pillows behind me, and I don't see why I shouldn't stand,—just for a second or two. I'd rather not ask Mr. Bennet, because he might tell me to wait, and I do want to try."
Mary did not argue the question longer. Daisy's imploring face was quite too much for her. She carefully wrapped a warm dressing-gown round the prostrate thin figure, and then she very gently lifted Daisy up and out of bed, placing and holding her in an upright position.
"Nursie, am I standing? I can't be sure," said Daisy, with dilated anxious eyes and quick breathing. "Are my feet down flat on the floor? It feels so queer."
"Yes, you're standing now, Daisy," said Mary Davis.
"Don't let go, please," said Daisy faintly. "The room is all going round. My legs are just as heavy as in bed, Nursie."
"Yes, dear. I'll put you back now," said Mary.
The words seemed to rouse Daisy. "No, no, I haven't tried standing alone yet," she said hurriedly. "Let me go a moment, Nursie."
"My dear, you can't," said Mary.