Benoit proposed, as she several times did, to read
to Daisy or sing to her, she was always answered by a gentle, "No,
Juanita," which was as decided as it was gentle. The last time indeed,
Daisy had yielded and given assent to the proposition; but Mrs. Benoit
did not feel sure that she gave anything else; either attention or
approbation. Daisy's dinner she had prepared with particular care; but
it was not enjoyed; Mrs. Benoit knew that. She sighed to herself, and
then sang to herself, in a softly kind of way; Daisy gave no heed, and
only lay still with her face turned to the window. By and by, late in
the afternoon, the doctor came in. He was not a favourite of Mrs.
Benoit, but she was glad to see him now. She withdrew a little out of
the way and watched to see what he would say.
The doctor's first care as usual was the foot. That was going on well.
Having attended to that, he looked at Daisy's face. It did not seem to
him satisfactory, Mrs. Benoit saw; for his next move was to the head of
the couch, and he felt Daisy's hand, while his eyes studied her.
"How do you do to-day?"
"I am getting better," said Daisy.
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