"I like it pretty well, papa."
"Only pretty well! Is that the most you can say of it? I understood that it was supposed to be an amusement of a much more positive character."
"Papa, it is amusing—but it has its disagreeablenesses."
"Has it? What can they be? Or has everything pleasant its dark side?"
"I don't know, papa."
"What makes the shadows in this instance?"
It seemed not just easy for Daisy to tell, for her father saw that she looked puzzled how to answer.
"Papa, I think it is because people do not behave perfectly1 well."
It was quite impossible for Mr. Randolph to help bursting into a laugh at this; but he put his arms round Daisy and kissed her very affectionately at the same time.
"How does their ill behaviour affect your pleasure, Daisy?"
"Papa—you know I have to play with them."
"Yes, I understand that. What do they do?"
"It isn't they, papa. It is only Alexander Fish—or at least it is he most."
"What does he do?"
"Papa—we are in a tableau2 together."
"Yes. You and he?"
"Yes, papa. And it is very disagreeable."
"Pray how, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, commanding his features with some difficulty. "What is the tableau?"
"Papa, you know the story of Priscilla?"
"I do not think I do. What Priscilla?"
"Priscilla and John Alden. It is in a book of engravings."
"O!—the courtship of Miles Standish?"
"Miles Standish was his friend, papa."
"Yes, I know now. And are you Priscilla?"
"Yes, papa."
"And who is Miles Standish?"
"O, nobody; he is not in the picture; it is John Alden."
"I think I remember. Who is John Alden, then?"
"Papa, they have put Alexander Fish in, because he has long curling hair; but I think Preston's hair would do a great deal better."
"Preston is under some obligation to the others, I suppose, because he is manager. But how does Alexander Fish abuse his privileges?"
"Papa," said Daisy unwillingly,—"his face is turned away from the other people, so that nobody can see it but me;—and he winks3."
Daisy brought out the last word with an accession of gravity impossible fully4 to describe. Mr. Randolph's mouth twitched5; he bent6 his head down upon Daisy's, that she might not see it.
"That is very rude of him, Daisy," he said.
"Papa," said Daisy, who did not relish7 the subject, and chose a departure,—"what is a Puritan?"
"A Puritan!"
"Yes, papa. What is it? Priscilla was a Puritan."
"That was a name given to a class of people in England a long time ago."
"What did it mean?"
"They were a stiff set of people, Daisy; good enough people in their way, no doubt, but very absurd in it also."
"What did they do, papa?"
"Concluded to do without whatever is graceful8 and beautiful and pleasant, in dress or arts or manners. The more disagreeable they made life, they thought it was the better."
"Why were they called that name? Were they purer than other people?"
"I believe they thought themselves so."
"I think they look nice in the picture," said Daisy meditatively9. "Are there any Puritans now, papa?"
"There are people that are called Puritans. It is a term apt to be applied10 to people that are stiff in their religion."
"Papa," said Daisy when an interval11 of five minutes had passed,—"I do not see how people can be stiff in their religion."
"Don't you. Why not?"
"Papa, I do not see how it can be stiff, to love God and do what he says."
"No—" said Mr. Randolph; "but people can be stiff in ways of their own devising."
"Ways that are not in the Bible, papa?"
"Well—yes."
"But papa, it cannot be stiff, to do what God says we must do?"
"No,—of course not," said Mr. Randolph getting up.
He left her, and Daisy sat meditating12; then with a glad heart ran off and ordered her pony13 chaise. If tableaux14 were to be the order of the day every afternoon, she must go to see Molly in the morning. This time she had a good deal to carry and to get ready. Molly was in want of bread. A nice little loaf, fresh baked, was supplied by Joanna, along with some cold rolls.
"She will like those, I dare say," said Daisy. "I dare say she never saw rolls in her life before. Now she wants some meat, Joanna. There was nothing but a little end of cold pork on the dish in her cupboard."
"Why I wonder who cooks for the poor wretch15?" said Joanna.
"I think she cooks for herself, because she has a stove, and I saw iron things and pots to cook with. But she can't do much, Joanna, and I don't believe she knows how."
"Sick, is she too?" said Joanna.
"Sick with rheumatism16, so that she did not like to stir."
"I guess I must go take a look at her; but maybe she mightn't let me. Well, Miss Daisy, the way will be for you to tell me what she wants, if you can find out. She must have neighbours, though, that take care of her."
"We are her neighbours," said Daisy.
Joanna looked, a look of great complacency and some wonder, at the child; and packed forthwith into Daisy's basket the half of a cold chicken and a broken peach pie. A bottle of milk Daisy particularly desired, and a little butter; and she set off at last, happier than a queen—Esther or any other—to go to Molly with her supplies.
She found not much improvement in the state of affairs. Molly was gathered up on her hearth17 near the stove, in which she had made a fire; but it did not appear, for all that Daisy could see, that anything else had been done or any breakfast eaten that morning. The cripple seemed to be in a down-hearted and hopeless state of mind; and no great wonder.
"Molly, would you like another cup of tea?" said her little friend.
"Yes, it's in there. You fix it,"—said the poor woman, pointing as before to the cupboard, and evidently comforted by Daisy's presence and proposal. Daisy could hear it in the tone of her voice. So, greatly pleased herself, Daisy went to work in Molly's house just as if she was at home. She fetched water in the kettle again and made up the fire. While that was getting ready, she set the table for breakfast. The only table that Molly could use was a piece of board nailed on a chair. On this Daisy put her plate and cup and saucer, and with secret glee arranged the cold chicken and loaf of bread. For the cupboard, as she saw, was as empty as she had found it two days before. What Molly had lived on in the mean time was simply a mystery to Daisy. To be sure, the end of cold pork was gone, the remains18 of the cake had disappeared, and nothing was left of the peaches but the stones. The tea-kettle did not boil for a time; and Daisy looked uneasily at Molly's cup and saucer and plate meanwhile. They had not been washed, Daisy could not guess for how long; certainly no water had touched them since the tea of two nights ago, for the cake crumbs19 and peach stones told the tale. Daisy looked at them with a great feeling of discomfort20. She could not bear to see them so; they ought to be washed; but Daisy disliked the idea of touching21 them for that purpose more than I can make you understand. In all matters of nicety and cleanliness Daisy was notional; nothing suited her but the most fastidious particularity. It had been a trial to her to bring those unwashed things from the cupboard. Now she sat and looked at them; uneasily debating what she should do. It was not comfortable, that Molly should take her breakfast off them as they were; and Molly was miserable22 herself and would do nothing to mend matters. And then—"Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you,"—As soon as that came fairly into Daisy's head, she knew what she ought to be about. Not without an inward sigh, she gathered up the pieces again.
"What you going to do?" said Molly.
"I'll bring them back," said Daisy. "I will be ready directly. The water is not boiling yet."
For she saw that Molly was jealously eager for the hoped-for cup of tea. She carried the things out into the shed, and there looked in vain for any dish or vessel23 to wash them in. How could it be that Molly managed? Daisy was fain to fetch a little bowl of water and wash the crockery with her fingers, and then fetch another bowl of water to rinse24 it. There was no napkin to be seen. She left the things to drain as they could, and went to the spring to wash her own fingers; rejoicing in the purifying properties of the sweet element. All this took some time, but Daisy carried in her clean dishes with a satisfied heart.
"It's bi'lin',—" said Molly as soon as she entered.
So the little kettle was. Daisy made tea, and prepared Molly's table with a little piece of butter and the bottle of milk. And no little girl making an entertainment for herself with tiny china cups and tea-set, ever had such satisfaction in it. Twenty dinners at home could not have given Daisy so much pleasure, as she had now to see the poor cripple look at her unwonted luxuries and then to see her taste them. Yet Molly said almost nothing; but the grunt25 of new expression with which she set down the bottle of milk the first time, went all through and through Daisy's heart with delight. Molly drank tea and spread her bread with butter, and Daisy noticed her turning over her slice of bread to examine the texture26 of it; and a quieter, soothed27, less miserable look, spread itself over her wrinkled features. They were not wrinkled with age; yet it was a lined and seamed face generally, from the working of unhappy and morose28 feelings.
"Ain't it good!—" was Molly's single word of comment as she finished her meal. Then she sat back and watched Daisy putting all the things nicely away. She looked hard at her.
"What you fetch them things here for?" she broke out suddenly. "H—n?"
The grunt with which her question concluded was so earnest in its demand of an answer, that Daisy stopped.
"Why I like to do it, Molly," she said. Then seeing the intent eyes with which the poor creature was examining her, Daisy added,—"I like to do it; because Jesus loves you."
"H—n?"—said Molly, very much at a loss what this might mean, and very eager to know. Daisy stood still, with the bread in her hands.
"Don't you know, Molly?" she said. "He does. It is Jesus, that I told you about. He loves you, and he came and died for you, that he might make you good and save you from your sins; and he loves you now, up in heaven."
"What's that?" said Molly.
"Heaven? that is where God lives, and the angels, and good people."
"There ain't none," said Molly.
"What?"
"There ain't no good people."
"O yes, there are. When they are washed in Jesus' blood, then they are good. He will take away all their sins."
Molly was silent for a moment and Daisy resumed her work of putting things away; but as she took the peach pie in her hands Molly burst out again.
"What you bring them things here for?"
Daisy stopped again.
"I think it is because Jesus is my king," she said, "and I love him. And
I love what he loves, and so I love you, Molly."
Daisy looked very childish and very wise, as she said this; but over Molly's face there came a great softening29 change. The wrinkles seemed to disappear; she gazed at Daisy steadily30 as if trying to find out what it all meant: and when the eyes presently were cast down, Daisy almost thought there was a little moisture about them. She had no further interruption in her work. The dishes were all put away, and then she brought her book. Daisy had her Bible with her this time, that she might give Molly more than her own words. And Molly she found as ready to listen as could be desired. And she was persistent31 in desiring to hear only of that incredible Friend of whom Daisy had told her. That name she wanted; wherever that name came in, Molly sat silent and attentive32; if the narrative33 lost it, she immediately quickened Daisy's memory to the knowledge of the fact that nothing else would do. At last Daisy proposed that Molly herself should learn to read. Molly stared very hopelessly at first; but after getting more accustomed to the idea and hearing from Daisy that it was by no means an impossible thing, and further that if she could learn to read, the Bible would be forthcoming for her own use, she took up the notion with an eagerness far exceeding all that Daisy had hoped for. She said very little about it; nevertheless it was plain that a root of hope had struck down into the creature's heart. Daisy taught her two letters, A and B, and then was obliged to go home.
It was quite time, for little Daisy was tired. She was not accustomed to making fires and boiling kettles, neither to setting tables and washing dishes. Yet it was not merely, nor so much, the bodily exertion34 she had made, as the mind work. The excitement both of pleasure and responsibility and eager desire. Altogether, Daisy was tired; and sat back in her chaise letting the reins35 hang languidly in her hands and Loupe go how he would. But Loupe judged it was best to get home and have some refreshment36, so he bestirred himself. Daisy had time to lie down a little while before her dinner; nevertheless she was languid and pale, and disposed to take all the rest of the day very quietly.
The rest of the day was of course devoted37 to the tableaux. The little company had got warmed to the subject pretty well at the first meeting; they all came together this fine afternoon with spirits in tone for business. And Daisy, though she was tired, presently found her own interest drawn38 in. She was not called upon immediately to take any active part; she perched herself in the corner of a couch and looked on and listened. Thither39 came Nora Dinwiddie, too much excited to sit down, and stood by Daisy's elbow. They had been practising "Alfred in the neat-herd's cottage;" Nora had been called upon to be the girl blowing the burnt cakes; she had done it, and everybody had laughed, but the little lady was not pleased.
"I know I look horrid40!" she said to Daisy,—"puffing out my cheeks till they are like a pair of soapbubbles!"
"But soapbubbles are not that colour," said Daisy. "Your cheeks didn't look like soapbubbles."
"Yes, they did. They looked horrid, I know."
"But the picture is so," urged Daisy quietly. "You want to be like the picture."
"No I don't. Not that picture. I would like to be something handsome. I don't like that picture."
Daisy was silent, and Nora pouted41.
"What are you going to be, Daisy?" said Ella Stanfield.
"I am going to be Priscilla. No, I don't know whether I am or not; but I am going to be Fortitude42, I believe."
"That's pretty," said Ella. "What else? O, you are going to be the angel, aren't you? I wonder if that will be pretty. It will be queer. Nora, shall you like to be one of the little princes in the Tower? with that featherbed coming over us? But we shall not see it, I suppose, because our eyes have got to be shut; but I shall be afraid every minute they will let it fall on us."
"My eyes won't be shut," said Nora.
"O, they must. You know, the little princes were asleep, when the men came to kill them. Your eyes must be shut and you must be asleep. O, what are they doing to Theresa?"
"Dressing43 her—" said Daisy.
"What is she going to be?"
"Portia—" said Daisy.
"Isn't that beautiful!—" said Nora with a deep breath. "O, what a splen—did dress! How rich-looking it is. What a lovely purple. O, how beautiful Theresa is in it. O—! Isn't that splen—did?"
A very prolonged, though low, breath of admiring wonder testified to the impressive power, upon the children at least, of Theresa's new habiliments. The purple brocade was upon her; its full draperies swept the ground in gorgeous colouring; a necklace of cameos was bound with great effect upon her hair; and on the arms, which were half bare, Mrs. Sandford was clasping gold and glittering jewels. Theresa threw herself slightly back in her prescribed attitude, laid her arms lightly across each other, and turned her head with a very saucy44 air towards the companion figure, supposed to be Bassanio. All the others laughed and clapped her.
"Not that, Theresa, not that; you have got the wrong picture. You are going with the Prince of Arragon now, to the caskets; and you ought to be anxiously asking Bassanio about his letter."
Theresa changed attitude and expression on the instant; bent slightly forward, lost her sauciness45, and laid her hand upon Bassanio's arm with a grave, tender look of inquiry46. They all shouted again.
"Bravo, Theresa! capital!" said Preston.
"Hamilton, can you act up to that?" said Mrs. Sandford.
"Wait till I get my robes on, ma'am. I can make believe a great deal easier when I am under the persuasion47 that it is not me—Hamilton Rush."
"I'd like to see Frederica do as well as that," said Alexander Fish, in a fit of brotherly concern.
"Let us try her—" said good-natured Mrs. Sandford. Mrs. Sandford certainly was good-natured, for she had all the dressing to do. She did it well, and very patiently.
"There," said Nora, when Ella had left the couch to go to her sister,—"that is what I like. Didn't she look beautiful, Daisy?"
"Her dress looked beautiful—" said Daisy.
"Well, of course; and that made her look beautiful. Daisy, I wish I could have a nice part. I would like to be the queen in that fainting picture."
"You are going to be in that picture."
"But, I mean, I would like to be the queen. She will have the best dress, won't she?"
"I suppose she will be the most dressed," said Daisy.
"I don't want to be one of the women—I want to be the queen. Hamilton
Rush said I would be the best one for it, because she was a Jewess; and
I am the only one that has got black eyes and hair."
"But her eyes will not be seen," said Daisy. "She is fainting. When people faint, they keep their eyes shut."
"Yes, but I am the only one that has got black hair. That will shew. Her hair ought to be black."
"Why will not other hair do just as well?" said Daisy.
"Why, because she was a Jewess."
"Do Jewesses always have black hair?"
"Of course they ought to have black hair," said Nora; "or Hamilton
Rush would not have said that. And my hair is black."
Daisy was silent. She said nothing to this proposition. The children were both silenced for a little while the practising for "Marie Antoinette" was going on. The principal part in this was taken by Frederica, who was the beauty of the company. A few touches of Mrs. Sandford's skilful48 hands transformed her appearance wonderfully. She put on an old-fashioned straight gown, which hung in limp folds around her; and Mrs. Sandford arranged a white handkerchief over her breast, tying it in the very same careless loose knot represented in the picture; but her management of Frederica's hair was the best thing. Its soft fair luxuriance was, no one could tell how, made to assume the half dressed, half undressed air of the head in Delaroche's picture; and Frederica looked the part well.
"She should throw her head a little more back,"—whispered Hamilton Rush to the manager;—"her head or her shoulders. She is not quite indignant enough."
"That handkerchief in her hand is not right—" said Preston in a responding whisper. "You see to it—while I get into disguise."
"That handkerchief, Mrs. Sandford—" Hamilton, said softly.
"Yes. Frederica, your hand with the pocket-handkerchief,—it is not quite the thing."
"Why not?"
"You hold it like a New York lady."
"How should I hold it?"
"Like a French queen, whose Austrian fingers may hold anything any way."
This was Hamilton's dictum.
"But how do I hold it?"
"You have picked it up in the middle, and shew all the flower work in the corners."
"You hold it too daintily, Frederica," said Theresa. "You must grasp it—grasp it loosely—but as the distinguished50 critic who has last spoken has observed."
Frederica dropped her handkerchief, and picked it up again exactly as she had it before.
"Try again—" said Mrs. Sandford. "Grasp it, as Theresa says. Never mind how you are taking it up."
"Must I throw it down again?"
"If you please."
"Take it up any way but in the middle," said Hamilton.
Down went the handkerchief on a chair, and then Frederica's fingers took it up, delicately, and with a little shake displayed as before what Hamilton called the flowers in the corners. It was the same thing. They all smiled.
"She can't hold a handkerchief any but the one way—I don't believe," said her brother Alexander.
"Isn't it right?" said Frederica.
"Perfect, I presume, for Madison Square or Fifth Avenue—but not exactly for a revolutionary tribunal," said Hamilton.
"What is the difference?"
"Ah, that is exactly what it is so hard to get at. Hello! Preston—is it
Preston? Can't be better, Preston. Admirable! admirable!"
"Well, Preston, I do not know you!" said Mrs. Sandford.
Was it Preston? Daisy could hardly believe her ears. Her eyes certainly-told her another story. Was it Preston? in the guise49 and with the face of an extremely ugly old woman—vicious and malignant,—who taking post near the deposed51 queen, peered into her face with spiteful curiosity and exultation52. Not a trace of likeness53 to Preston could Daisy see. She half rose up to look at him in her astonishment54. But the voice soon declared that it was no other than her cousin.
"Come,"—said he, while they were all shouting,—"fall in. You
Hamilton,—and Theresa,—come and take your positions."
Hamilton, with a glance at the picture, went behind Preston; and putting on a savage55 expression, thrust his clenched56 fist out threateningly towards the dignified57 figure of Frederica; while Theresa, stealing up into the group, put her hands upon a chair back to steady herself and bent towards the queen a look of mournful sympathy and reverence58, that in the veritable scene and time represented would undoubtedly59 have cost the young lady her life. The performers were good; the picture was admirable. There was hardly anybody left to look when George Linwood and Alexander had taken post as the queen's guards; and to say truth they did not in their present state of undisguised individuality add much to the effect; but Mrs. Sandford declared the tableau was very fine, and could be made perfect.
The question of Cinderella came up then; and there was a good deal of talk. Finally it was decided60 that little Ella should be Cinderella, and Elo?se the fairy godmother, and Jane Linwood and Nora the wicked sisters. A little practising was tried, to get them in order. Then Esther was called for. Daisy submitted.
Hamilton Rush was made magnificent and kingly by a superb velvet61 mantle62 and turbaned crown—the latter not perfect, but improvised63 for the occasion. For a sceptre he held out a long wooden ruler this time; but Preston promised a better one should be provided. The wooden ruler was certainly not quite in keeping with the king's state, or the queen's. Daisy was robed in a white satin dress of her mother's; much too long, of course, but that added to the rich effect; it lay in folds upon the floor. Her head was covered with a rose-coloured silken scarf wound artistically64 round it and the ends floating away; and upon this drapery diamonds were bound, that sparkled very regally over Daisy's forehead. But this was only the beginning. A zone of brilliants at her waist made the white satin dazzling and gathered its folds together; bracelets65 of every colour and of great beauty loaded Daisy's little arms; till she was, what Mrs. Sandford had said Esther must be, a spot of brilliancy. Her two maids, Nora and Jane Linwood, at this time were not robed in any other than their ordinary attire66; perhaps that was one reason why their maintenance of their characters was not quite so perfect as that of the principal two. Hamilton stretched forward his wooden sceptre to the queen with benignant haste and dignity. Daisy, only too glad to shrink away, closed her eyes and lay back in the arms of her attendants in a manner that was really very satisfactory. But the attendants themselves were not in order.
"Jane, you must not laugh—" said her brother.
"I ain't laughing!"
"Yes, but you were."
"The queen is fainting, you know," said Mrs. Sandford. "You are one of her maids, and you are very much distressed67 about it."
"I am not distressed a bit. I don't care."
"Nora, do not forget that you are another attendant. Your business is with your mistress. You must be looking into her face, to see if she is really faint or if you can perceive signs of mending. You must look very anxious."
But Nora looked very cross; and as Jane persisted in giggling68, the success of that picture was not quite excellent this time.
"Nora is the most like a Jewess—" Theresa remarked.
"O, Nora will make a very good maid of honour by and by," Mrs. Sandford replied.
But Nora had her own thoughts.
"Daisy, how shall I be dressed?" she inquired, when Daisy was disrobed of her magnificence and at leisure to talk.
"I don't know. O, in some nice way," said Daisy, getting into her corner of the couch again.
"Yes, but shall I—shall Jane and I have bracelets, and a girdle, and something on our heads too?"
"No, I suppose not. The queen of course is most dressed, Nora; you know she must be."
"I should like to have one dress," said Nora. "I am not anything at all. All the fun is in the dress. You are to have four dresses."
"Well, so are you to have four."
"No, I am not. What four?"
"This one, you know; and Red Riding-hood—and the Princes in the
Tower—and Cinderella."
"I am to be only one of the ugly sisters in Cinderella—I don't believe aunt Frances will give her much of a dress; and I hate Red Riding-hood; and the Princes in the Tower are not to be dressed at all. They are covered up with the bed-clothes."
"Nora," said Daisy softly,—"would you like to be dressed as John
Alden?"
"As what?" said Nora, in no very accommodating tone of voice.
"John Alden—that Puritan picture, you know, with the spinning wheel. I am to be Priscilla."
"A boy! Do you think I would be dressed like a boy?" cried Nora in dudgeon. And Daisy thought she would not, if the question were asked her; and had nothing more to answer.
So the practising went on, with good success on the whole. The little company met every other day; and dresses were making, and postures69 were studied, and costumes were considered and re-considered. Portia and Bassanio got to be perfect. So did Alfred in the neat-herd's cottage—very nearly. Nora, however she grumbled70, blew her cakes energetically; Preston and Elo?se made a capital old man and woman, she with a mutch cap and he with a bundle of sticks on his head; while Alexander Fish with his long hair and rather handsome face sat very well at the table hearing his rebuke71 for letting the cakes burn. Alexander was to have a six-foot bow in hand, which he and Hamilton were getting ready: and meanwhile practised with an umbrella. But the tableau was very good. Most of the others went very well. Still Daisy was greatly tried by John Alden's behaviour, and continued to look so severe in the picture as to draw out shouts of approving laughter from the company, who did not know that Alexander Fish was to be thanked for it. And Nora was difficult to train in Queen Esther. She wore obstinately72 a look of displeased73 concern for herself, and no concern at all for her fainting mistress. Which on the whole rather impaired74 the unity75 of the action, and the harmony of the general effect.
"How is your task proceeding76?" Mrs. Randolph asked one evening when Mrs.
Sandford was staying to tea.
"Excellently well. We shall make a good thing, I confidently expect."
"Hamilton is a good actor," said Preston.
"And Master Gary also," said Mrs. Sandford. "Your old French wife is perfect, Preston."
"Much obliged, ma'am."
"Not to me. My dressing has nothing to do with that. But Preston, what shall we do with Frederica's handkerchief? She can not hold it—right."
"Like a queen—" said Preston. "I do not know—unless we could scare her out of her propriety77. A good fright would do it, I think. But then the expression would not suit. How is the Game, Mrs. Sandford?"
"Perfect! admirable! You and Hamilton do it excellently—and Daisy is a veritable angel."
"How does she like it all?" Mrs. Randolph inquired.
"Aunt Felicia, she is as much engaged as anybody."
"And plays as well," added Mrs. Sandford.
"She has found out to-day, aunt Felicia," Preston went on, speaking rather low, "that she ought to have a string of red stones round her head instead of white ones."
Mrs. Randolph smiled.
"She was quite right," said Mrs. Sandford. "It was a matter of colour, and she was quite right. She was dressed for Queen Esther, and I made her look at herself to take the effect; and she suggested, very modestly, that stones of some colour would do better than diamonds round her head. So I substituted some very magnificent rubies78 of yours, Mrs. Randolph; quite to Daisy's justification79."
"Doesn't she make a magnificent little 'Fortitude,' though!" said
Elo?se.
"The angel will be the best," said Mrs. Sandford. "She looks so naturally troubled. But we have got a good band of workers. Theresa Stanfield is very clever."
"It will do Daisy a world of good," said Mrs. Gary.
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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winks
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| v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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meditatively
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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tableaux
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| n.舞台造型，（由活人扮演的）静态画面、场面；人构成的画面或场景( tableau的名词复数 )；舞台造型；戏剧性的场面；绚丽的场景 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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rinse
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| v.用清水漂洗，用清水冲洗 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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sauciness
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| n.傲慢，鲁莽 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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deposed
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| v.罢免( depose的过去式和过去分词 )；（在法庭上）宣誓作证 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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postures
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| 姿势( posture的名词复数 )； 看法； 态度； 立场 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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