She was in the scribbling
stage of her great work, and with her head bent low, her cheeks
flushed, and her fingers much stained with ink, was writing away with
great rapidity, when she was startled by some very earnest words from
the little sleeper.
"Oh, no, indeed, Mr. Dove--oh no, you may be quite certain. I know
where I'd go if I told a lie, of course, Mr. Dove. Yes, yes, you are
my friend, and I'm your friend--yes, yes."
"Daisy, do wake up," said Jasmine; "you are talking such rubbish about
Mr. Dove, and about telling lies, and Mr. Dove being your friend--open
your eyes, Daisy, and let me give you such a nice little breakfast."
"Is that you, Jasmine?" said Daisy--"I thought you were Mr. Dove--I
was asleep, and I was dreaming."
"Yes, Eyebright, and talking in your dreams," said Jasmine, stooping
down and kissing her.
Daisy held one of Jasmine's hands very tightly.
"Did I say anything, Jasmine--anything that you shouldn't
hear--anything about--about sticky sweetmeats, Jasmine?"
"No, you silly pet, not a word. Now sit up in bed, and let me give you
your breakfast. Daisy, I really do think my novel is going to be a
great success. I am going to put Mr.
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