Then crossed the hall, and went into a matted, breezy, elegant room, where a lady lay luxuriously on a couch, playing with a book and a leaf-cutter.

She could not be _busy_ with anything in that attitude.

Nearly all that was to be seen was a flow of lavender silk flounces, a rich slipper at rest on a cushion, and a dainty little cap with roses on a head too much at ease to rest.

By the side of the lavender silk stood the little white dress, still and preoccupied as before--a few minutes without any notice.
"Do you want anything, Daisy ?" "Mamma, I want to know something." "Well, what is it ?" "Mamma"-- Daisy seemed to be engaged on a very puzzling question--"what does it mean to be a Christian ?" "_What ?_" said her mother, rousing herself up for the first time to look at her.
"To be a Christian, mamma ?" "It means, to be baptized and go to church, and all that," said the lady, turning back to her book.
"But mamma, that isn't all I mean." "I don't know what you mean.

What has put it into your head ?" "Something Mr.Dinwiddie said." "What absurd nonsense! Who is Mr.Dinwiddie ?" "You know him.