All that needed patience and gentleness it seemed natural to bring to steady, painstaking Nellie.
But just at the moment that she was engaged with Johnny's line, and when she had for the time forgotten Daisy and the white mice, the little one spied her mother coming out upon the piazza; and, anxious to display her prize, she scampered away over the lawn as fast as her feet could carry her, Carrie following.
"Mamma, mamma!" cried Daisy as she reached her mother's side, "dear mamma, just see what Frankie Bradford gave me. All for my own, my very own, to keep for ever, an' ever, an' ever, he said so."
And, plunging her hand into her pocket, she brought forth one mouse and laid it in triumph on her mother's lap; then, opening the box, thrust the other beneath her very eyes, her own chubby face fairly brimming over with dimples and smiles.
Mrs. Ransom turned a shade paler, shrank back a little, then with a forced smile said,—
"Yes, darling, very pretty. I dare say you are very much pleased; but suppose you put this little fellow in the box with his brother. It is a better place for him than mamma's lap."
"Oh, no! mamma, he'd just as lieve stay in your lap," said Daisy. "He's not a bit af'aid of you. He likes peoples. See, he'll run right up your arm;" and, taking the mouse up, she would have laid it upon her mother's hand, had not Mrs. Ransom drawn back with an unmistakable shudder and expression of disgust which struck even the unconscious Daisy.
"Don't, darling, don't," she said hurriedly, but gently, unwilling to wound her little girl, or to give her any dread of the harmless creatures, but still feeling that she could not bear them near her. "Take them away, my pet: you know mamma does not like mice."
"They're not weally mice, mamma," said the little one, opening great astonished eyes at her mother, but at the same time obeying her words and drawing farther away with her mice,—"they're only white ones, not weally ones."