“There is only one thing left for you, Capt.  Drummond,” said Mrs. Randolph slightly; “to quit the army and take orders.”

“I am afraid, if I did, you would never want to see me settled in Mr. Pyne’s little church over here,” the Captain answered, as he helped the lady to alight at her own door.

“Not till Daisy is safely married,” said Mrs. Randolph laughing.

CHAPTER XVI.

Till the sound of the carriage wheels had died away in the distance, Juanita stood at the door looking after them; although the trees and the darkness prevented her seeing anything along the road further than a few yards.  When the rustle of the breeze among the branches was the only thing left to hear, beside the dripping of the rain drops shaken from the leaves, Juanita shut the door and came to Daisy.  The child was lying white and still, with her eyes closed.  Very white and thin the little face looked, indeed; and under each eyelid lay a tear glistening, that had forced its way so far into notice.  Juanita said not a word just then; she bustled about and made herself busy.  Not that Juanita’s busy ways were ever bustling in reality; she was too good a nurse for that; but she had several things to do.  The first was to put up a screen at the foot of Daisy’s couch.  She lay just a few feet from the door, and everybody coming to the door and having it opened, could look in if he pleased; and so Daisy would have no privacy at all.  That would not do; Juanita’s wits went to work to mend the matter.  Her little house had been never intended for more than one person.  There was another room in it, to be sure, where Mrs. Benoit’s own bed was; so that Daisy could have the use and possession of this outer room all to herself.

Juanita went about her business too noiselessly to induce even those closed eyelids to open.  She fetched a tolerably large clothes-horse from somewhere—­some shed or out-building; this she set at the foot of the couch, and hung an old large green moreen curtain over it.  Where the curtain came from, one of Mrs. Benoit’s great locked chests knew; there were two or three such chests in the inner room, with more treasures than a green moreen curtain stowed away in them.  The curtain was too large for the clothes-horse to hold up; it lay over the floor.  Juanita got screws and cords; fixed one screw in the wall, another in the ceiling, and at last succeeded in stretching the curtain neatly on the cords and the clothes-horse, where she wanted it to hang.  That was done; and Daisy’s couch was quite sheltered from any eyes coming to the door that had no business to come further.  When it was finished, and the screws and cords put away, Juanita came to Daisy’s side.  The eyes were open now.

“That is nice,” said Daisy.

“It’ll keep you by yourself, my little lady.  Now what will she have?”

“Nothing—­only I am thirsty,” said Daisy.