"Will my love tell what she mean?"
"It is hard, Juanita. But—I don't think I am quite right. I want you to tell me what to do."
Daisy's little face looked perplexed and wise. And sorry.
"What troubles my love?"
"I do not know how it was, Juanita—I did not care at all about it at first; and then I began to care about it a little—and now—"
"What does my love care about?"
"About being dressed, Juanita; and wearing mamma's jewels, and looking like a picture."
"Will Miss Daisy tell Juanita better what she mean?"
"Why, you know, Juanita," said the child wistfully, "they dress up the people to look like the pictures; and they have put me in some very pretty pictures; and in one I am to be beautifully dressed to look like Queen Esther—with mamma's jewels all over me. And there is another little girl who would like to have that part,—and I do not want to give it to her."
Juanita sat silent, looking grave and anxious. Her lips moved, but she said nothing that could be heard.