“Please kiss me again,” she sobbed. “Clasp your arms tight around me, and say ‘Good-night, Daisy.’ It will be so nice to dream about.”
With a cheery laugh the old lady lovingly complied with her request.
“You must close those bright little eyes of yours, and drift quickly into the Land of Nod, or there will be no roses in these cheeks to-morrow. Good-night, my pretty little dear!”
“Good-night, dear, kind Ruth!” sighed Daisy.
And she watched the old lady with wistful, hungry eyes as she picked up her shaded night-lamp, that threw such a soft, sweet radiance over her aged face, as she quietly quitted the room.
A sudden change came over Daisy’s face as the sound of her footsteps died away in the hall.
“Oh, God! help me!” she cried, piteously, struggling to her feet. “I must be far away from here when daylight breaks.”
She was so weak she almost fell back on her bed again when she attempted to rise. The thought of the morrow lent strength to her flagging energies. A strange mist seemed rising before her. Twice she seemed near fainting, but her indomitable courage kept her from sinking, as she thought of what the morrow would have in store for her.
Quietly she counted over the little store in her purse by the moon’s rays.
“Seventy dollars! Oh, I could never use all that in my life!” she cried. “Besides, I could never touch one cent of Stanwick’s money. It would burn my fingers––I am sure it would!”