Her voice was low and pleasant, with queer, quavering minor cadences. But Fiddle-dee-dee was not sleepy.
"'Tory," she begged, when the song was ended.
So Daisy told the story of the three bears. Fiddle was too young to fully comprehend, but she liked the sound of Daisy's voice at the climaxes, "Who's been sittin' in my chair?" and "Who's been sleepin' in my bed?" and "Who's been eatin' my soup?" Daisy was dramatic or nothing, and she entered into the spirit of her tale. It was such an exciting performance altogether that Fiddle was wider awake than ever when the story was finished.
"Ain' you evah gwine shut yo' eyes?"
"Daisy, sing," said Fiddle.
"I'se sung twel my th'oat's dry," said Daisy. And just then Mary came in. "Isn't she asleep, Daisy?—I'll take her. Bannister's John is down-stairs and wants to see you."
"Well, I ain' wantin' to see him," Daisy tossed her head; "you jus' take Miss Fiddle whilst I goes down and settles him. I ain' dressed and I ain' ready, Miss Mary. You jes' look at them feet." She stuck them out for inspection. Her shoes were out at the toes and down at the heels. "This ain' my comp'ny night." As she went down-stairs, her voice died away in a querulous murmur.
Mary, with her child in her arms, sat by the win
dow and looked out upon the quiet scene. There was faint rose in the sky, and a silver star. But while she watched the rose faded.