“You must not talk like that, Daisy,” she said, gayly, clasping her arms caressingly around the slender figure leaning against the casement; “I predict great things in store for you––wonderful things. Do not start and look at me so curiously, for I shall not tell you anything else, for it is getting dangerously near a certain forbidden subject. You know you warned me not to talk to you of love or lovers. I intend to have a great surprise for you. That is all I’m going to tell you now.”
Eve was almost frightened at the rapture that lighted up the beautiful face raised to her own.
“Has any one called for me, Eve?” she asked, piteously. “Oh, Eve, tell me quickly. I have hoped against hope, almost afraid to indulge so sweet a dream. Has any one inquired for me?”
Eve shook her head, sorely puzzled.
“Were you expecting any one to call?” she asked. She saw the light die quickly out of the blue eyes and the rich peachlike bloom from the delicate, dimpled cheeks. “I know something is troubling you greatly, little Daisy,” she said, “and I sympathize with you even if I may not share your secret.”
“Every one is so cold and so cruel to me, I think I should die if I were to lose your friendship, Eve,” she said.
Eve held the girl’s soft white hand in hers. “You will never die, then, if you wait for that event to happen. When I like a person, I like them for all time. I never could pretend a friendship I did not feel. And I said to myself the first moment I saw you: ‘What a sweet littly fairy! I shall love her, I’m sure.’”
“And do you love me?” asked Daisy.
“Yes,” said Eve; “my friendship is a lasting one. I could do almost anything for you.”
She wondered why Daisy took her face between her soft little palms and looked so earnestly down into her eyes, and kissed her lips so repeatedly.