Jack, however, is unwilling to lose the chance of hearing about the beautiful church, so he runs to call over the bannisters,—
“Sister Daisy, do come and tell us all about it. Rosie was only squizzing you. It was only but a cherry pic-nic, and meant no harm, and here’s a Sunday stem-cherry tea-kettle you may have for your own self.”
Sister Daisy makes no reply, then the little voice over the bannisters takes a more pleading tone,—
“Won’t you only please just to come, sister? We will be so good as ever we can.”
Surely, if Daisy would only turn and see that little chubby face flattened against the stair-railing, looking so flushed and entreating, that very little face that always has such a merry good-natured look, and is always ready to smile assent when asked to run her many older sister errands, surely she could not still pursue her down-stairs journey.
When she left church, touched and softened by what she had there heard and seen, like many an older person, she resolved to be “so good to-day, so kindly affectioned,” and as the soft south wind gently brushed her ringlets, and sweet odors from summer flowers in the little door-yards she passed, greeted her, the impressions deepened, and she longed to be
“Good and holy, pure and true.”
Then came thoughts of home and the nursery group where she might do her “little deeds of kindness,” and Daisy said,—
“Soon as I have taken off my things, I will go and stay with the children and help amuse them.”
I think Daisy fairly meant to do this, but as she passed through the dining-room for a drink of ice-water, the cool sound of vine-leaves rustling called her attention to such a nice shaded window-ledge, where she might rest her book, enjoy her “Goldy” story, and watch the busy insects and the floating clouds, by turn. The nursery path of duty didn’t look very inviting now, besides, “wasn’t she very tired, scarcely rested indeed, after yesterday’s long journey?” Then Daisy uttered aloud these not very gracious words,—