If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it-indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.
The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise-she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression-then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.
"I'm p-paralyzed with happiness."
She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see.
That was a way she had.
She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker.
(I've heard it said that Daisy's murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)
At any rate Miss Baker's lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped her head back again-the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright.
Again a sort of apology arose to my lips.
Almost any exhibition of complete self sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.