The curtain was drawn, and she
had to face the laughing comments of the people in the library. They
were unmerciful, she thought. Daisy grew very pink in the face.
Cinderella was the next picture, in which she had also to play. Dresses
were changed in haste; but meanwhile Daisy began to think about
herself. Was she all right? Mortified at the breaking of her picture;
angry at Alexander; eager to get back praise enough to make amends for
this loss;--whom was little Daisy trying to please? Where was the
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit now? was it on?
They had after all given her place in the Cinderella tableau; she was
one of the two wicked sisters; and she looked dissatisfied enough for
the character. She wanted to get away to be alone for two minutes; but
she had this part to fill first. It is very hard to play when one's
heart is heavy. Daisy could not go on so. She could not bear it. Without
waiting till June could undress her, she slipped away, the moment the
curtain was drawn, and ran across the hall to the dressing room. People
were coming and going everywhere; and Daisy went out upon the piazza.
There, in a dark spot, she kneeled down and prayed; that this terrible
spirit of pleasing herself might be put away from her. She had but a
minute; she knew she must be back again immediately; but she knew too it
takes but a minute for ever so little a prayer to go all the way to
heaven; and the answer does not take any longer to come, if it pleases
God.
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