Something called off Gary. Daisy was left feeling very thoroughly disturbed. That people could talk so and think so about what was so precious to her; talk about being saints, as if it were an undesirable thing; and as if such were unlovely. Her thought went back to Juanita, who seemed now half a world's distance away instead of a few miles; her love and gentleness and truth and wisdom, her prayers and way of living, did seem to Daisy somewhat unearthly in their beauty, compared with that which surrounded her now; but so unearthly, that it could not be understood, and must not be talked about. Juanita could not be understood here; could Daisy? She felt hurt, and troubled, and sorry; she did not like to hear such talk, but Gary was about as easy to stop as a cataract.
Dr. Sandford, lifting his eyes from what had occupied them, though his ears had not been stopped, saw that the face of his little charge was flushed with pain, and her eyes glistening. He came and took Gary's place, and silently felt of her hand and looked at her; but he did not ask Daisy what was the matter, because he pretty well knew. His own face, as usual, showed nothing; however, Daisy's came back to its accustomed expression.
"Dr. Sandford," said she softly, "what is a meteor?"
"Meteors are fiery stones which fall on the earth occasionally."
"Where do they come from?"
"Doctors are divided."
"But where do you think they come from?"
If Dr. Sandford's vanity could be touched by a child, it received a touch then. It was so plain, that what satisfied him would satisfy her. He would not give the sceptical answer which rose to his lips. Looking at the pure, wise little face which watched his, he made answer simply, not without a smile: "I am inclined to think they are wandering bodies, that we fall in with now and then, in our journey round the sun."
"Dr. Sandford, what do they look like?"
"You have seen shooting-stars?"