Daisy did not go in to luncheon. She did not like meeting all the people who felt so gay, while she felt so much trouble. Nor did she like being with her mother, whose manner all the week had constantly reminded Daisy of what Daisy never forgot. The rest of Saturday passed soberly away. There was a cloud in the air.
And the cloud was high and dark Sunday morning, though it was as fair a summer day as might be seen. Some tears escaped stealthily from Daisy's eyes, as she knelt in the little church beside her mother; but the prayers were deep and sweet and strong to her, very much. Sadly sorry was Daisy when they were ended. The rest of the service was little to her. Mr. Pyne did not preach like Mr. Dinwiddie; and she left the church with a downcast heart, thinking that so much of the morning was past.
The rest of the day Daisy kept by herself, in her own room; trying to get some comfort in reading and praying. For the dread of the evening was strong upon her; every movement of her mother spoke displeasure and determination. Daisy felt her heart beating gradually quicker and quicker, as the hours of the day wore on.
"Ye ain't well, Miss Daisy," said June, who had come in as usual without being heard.
"Yes I am, June," said Daisy. But she had started when the woman spoke, and June saw that now a tear sprang.
"Did you eat a good lunch, Miss Daisy?"
"I don't know, June. I guess I didn't eat much."
"Let me bring you something!" said the woman, coaxingly "some strawberries, with some good cream to 'em."
"No I can't, June I don't want them. What o'clock is it?"
"It is just on to five, Miss Daisy."