She drove on towards Crum Elbow, but
before she reached it she turned another corner, and drew up before
Juanita's house.
It was not the first visit she had made here since going home; though
Daisy had in truth not come often nor stayed long. All the more glad
were Juanita and she to see each other now. Daisy took off her flat and
sat down on the old chintz couch, with a face of content. Yet it was
grave content; not joyous at all. So Juanita's keen eyes saw, through
all the talking which went on. Daisy and she had a great deal to say to
each other; and among other things the story of Molly came in and was
enlarged upon; though Daisy left most of her own doings to be guessed
at. She did not tell them more than she could well help. However, talk
went on a good while, and still when it paused Daisy's face looked
thoughtful and careful. So Juanita saw.
"Is my love quite well?"
"O yes, Juanita. I am quite well. I think I am getting strong, a
little."
Juanita's thanksgiving was earnest. Daisy looked very sober.
"Juanita, I have been wanting to talk to you."
Now they had been talking a good deal; but this, the black woman saw,
was not what Daisy meant.
"What is it, my love?"
"I don't know, Juanita. I think I am puzzled."
The fine face of Mrs. Benoit looked gravely attentive, and a little
anxiously watchful of Daisy's.
"The best way will be to tell you. Juanita, they are--I mean, we
are--playing pictures at home."
"What is that, Miss Daisy?"
"Why, they take pictures--pictures in books, you know--and dress up
people like the people in the pictures, and make them stand so or sit
so, and look so, as the people in the pictures do; and so they make a
picture of living people.
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