It was a
cool morning! and my eyes opened to see Margaret on her knees
making my fire. Two good oak sticks were on the fire dogs, and
a heap of light wood on the floor. I watched her piling and
preparing, and then kindling the wood with a splinter of light
wood which she lit in the candle. It was all very strange to
me. The bare painted and varnished floor; the rugs laid down
here and there; the old cupboards in the wall; the unwonted
furniture. It did not feel like home. I lay still, until the
fire blazed up and Margaret rose to her feet, and seeing my
eyes open dropped her curtsey.
"Please, missis, may I be Miss Daisy's girl?"
"I will ask aunt Gary," I answered; a good deal surprised.
"Miss Daisy is the mistress. We all belong to Miss Daisy. It
will be as she say."
I thought to myself that very little was going to be "as I
said." I got out of bed, feeling terribly slim-hearted, and
stood in my night-gown before the fire, trying to let the
blaze warm me. Margaret did her duties with a zeal of devotion
that reminded me of my old June.
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