{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_12963/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_12963","id":"gutenberg_12963","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12963","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Children -- Religious life -- Juvenile fiction","Christian life -- Juvenile fiction","Tableaux -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"MELBOURNE HOUSE.\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD IRISH TOMB.]\n\nMelbourne House, Vol. I.\n\n\n\n\nMELBOURNE HOUSE.\n\n\nBY THE\nAUTHOR OF THE \"WIDE, WIDE WORLD.\"\n\n\"Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and\nwhether it be right.\"--PROV. XX. 11.\n\n\nVOL. I.\n\n\nNEW YORK:\nROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,\n530 BROADWAY.\n1865.\n\n\nEntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by\n\nROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,\n\nIn the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the\nSouthern District of New York.\n\n\n\nStereotyped by SMITH & MCDOUGAL, 82 & 84 Beekman St.\n\nPrinted by E.O. JENKINS, 20 North William St.\n\n[Transcriber's note: This edition of the novel was badly typeset in\nplaces. Many small errors--missing periods, missing apostrophes, missing\nclosing quotes--have been corrected for reading ease. When the author\nspelled a word as 'ankle' nine times and 'ancle' twice, occurrences of\n'ancle' have been corrected to 'ankle'--and so forth. Other errors,\nsuch as the persistent misspelling of 'visitor' as 'visiter', have been\nleft, as these are more likely to represent the author's convictions as\nto spelling.]\n\n\nMELBOURNE HOUSE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nA little girl was coming down a flight of stairs that led up from a\ngreat hall, slowly letting her feet pause on each stair, while the light\ntouch of her hand on the rail guided her. The very thoughtful little\nface seemed to be intent on something out of the house, and when she\nreached the bottom, she still stood with her hand on the great baluster\nthat rested on the marble there, and looked wistfully out of the open\ndoor. So the sunlight came in and looked at her; a little figure in a\nwhite frock and blue sash, with the hair cut short all over a little\nround head, and a face not only just now full of some grave concern, but\nwith habitually thoughtful eyes and a wise little mouth. She did not\nseem to see the sunlight which poured all over her, and lit up a wide,\ndeep hall, floored with marble, and opening at the other end on trees\nand flowers, which shewed the sunlight busy there too. The child\nlingered wistfully. Then crossed the hall, and went into a matted,\nbreezy, elegant room, where a lady lay luxuriously on a couch, playing\nwith a book and a leaf-cutter. She could not be _busy_ with anything in\nthat attitude. Nearly all that was to be seen was a flow of lavender\nsilk flounces, a rich slipper at rest on a cushion, and a dainty little\ncap with roses on a head too much at ease to rest. By the side of the\nlavender silk stood the little white dress, still and preoccupied as\nbefore--a few minutes without any notice.\n\n\"Do you want anything, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Mamma, I want to know something.\"\n\n\"Well, what is it?\"\n\n\"Mamma\"--Daisy seemed to be engaged on a very puzzling question--\"what\ndoes it mean to be a Christian?\"\n\n\"_What?_\" said her mother, rousing herself up for the first time to look\nat her.\n\n\"To be a Christian, mamma?\"\n\n\"It means, to be baptized and go to church, and all that,\" said the\nlady, turning back to her book.\n\n\"But mamma, that isn't all I mean.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean. What has put it into your head?\"\n\n\"Something Mr. Dinwiddie said.\"\n\n\"What absurd nonsense! Who is Mr. Dinwiddie?\"\n\n\"You know him. He lives at Mrs. Sandford's.\"\n\n\"And where did he talk to you?\"\n\n\"In the little school in the woods. In his Sunday-school. Yesterday.\"\n\n\"Well, it's absurd nonsense, your going there. You have nothing to do\nwith such things. Mr. Randolph?--\"\n\nAn inarticulate sound, testifying that he was attending, came from a\ngentleman who had lounged in and was lounging through the room.\n\n\"I won't have Daisy go to that Sunday-school any more, down there in the\nwoods. Just tell her she is not to do it, will you? She is getting her\nhead full of the most absurd nonsense. Daisy is just the child to be\nruined by it.\"\n\n\"You hear, Daisy,\" said Mr. Randolph, indolently, as he lounged finally\nout of the room by an open window; which, as did all the windows in the\nroom, served for a door also. By the door by which she had entered,\nDaisy silently withdrew again, making no effort to change the resolution\nof either of her parents. She knew it would be of no use; for\nexcessively indulgent as they both were in general, whenever they took\nit upon them to exercise authority, it was unflinchingly done. Her\nfather would never even hear a supplication to reconsider a judgment,\nespecially if pronounced at the desire of her mother. So Daisy knew.\n\nIt was a disappointment, greater than anybody thought or would have\nguessed, that saw her. She went out to the large porch before the door,\nand stood there, with the same thoughtful look upon her face, a little\ncast down now. Still she did not shed tears about the matter, unless one\ntime when Daisy's hand went up to her brow rather quick, it was to get\nrid of some improper suggestion there. More did not appear, either\nbefore or after the sudden crunching of the gravel by a pair of light\nwheels, and the coming up of a little Shetland pony, drawing a miniature\nchaise.\n\n\"Hollo, Daisy! come along; he goes splendidly!\"\n\nSo shouted the driver, a boy somewhat bigger than Daisy.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"Anywhere--down to the church, if you'll be quick. Never mind your hat!\"\n\nHe waited, however, while Daisy dashed into the house and out again, and\nthen stepped into the low chaise beside him. Then the eager intimation\nwas given to the pony, which set off as if knowing that impatience was\nbehind him. The smooth, wide, gravelled road was as good and much better\nthan a plank flooring; the chaise rolled daintily on under the great\ntrees; the pony was not forgetful, yet ever and anon a touch of his\nowner's whip came to remind him, and the fellow's little body fairly\nwriggled from side to side in his efforts to get on.\n\n\"I wish you wouldn't whip him so!\" said Daisy, \"he's doing as well as he\ncan.\"\n\n\"What do girls know about driving!\" was the retort from the small piece\nof masculine science beside her.\n\n\"Ask papa,\" said Daisy quietly.\n\n\"Well, what do they know about horses, any how!\"\n\n\"I can _see_,\" said Daisy, whose manner of speech was somewhat slow and\ndeliberate, and in the choice of words, like one who had lived among\ngrown people. \"I can observe.\"\n\n\"See that, then!\"--And a cut, smarter than ordinary, drove the pony to\nhis last legs, namely, a gallop. Away they went; it was but a\nshort-legged gallop after all; yet they passed along swiftly over the\nsmooth gravel road. Great, beautiful trees overshadowed the ground on\neither side with their long arms; and underneath, the turf was mown\nshort, fresh and green. Sometimes a flowering bush of some sort broke\nthe general green with a huge spot of white or red flowers; gradually\nthose became fewer, and were lost sight of; but the beautiful grass and\nthe trees seemed to be unending. Then a gray rock here and there began\nto shew itself. Pony got through his gallop, and subsided again to a\nwaddling trot.\n\n\"This whip's the real thing,\" said the young driver, displaying and\nsurveying it as he spoke; \"that is a whip now, fit for a man to use.\"\n\n\"A man wouldn't use it as you do,\" said Daisy. \"It is cruel.\"\n\n\"That's what _you_ think. I guess you'd see papa use a whip once in a\nwhile.\"\n\n\"Besides, you came along too fast to see anything.\"\n\n\"Well, I told you I was going to the church, and we hadn't time to go\nslowly. What did you come for?\"\n\n\"I suppose I came for some diversion,\" said Daisy with a sigh.\n\n\"Ain't Loupe a splendid little fellow?\"\n\n\"Very; I think so.\"\n\n\"Why, Daisy, what ails you? there is no fun in you to-day. What's the\nmatter?\"\n\n\"I am concerned about something. There is nothing the matter.\"\n\n\"Concerned about Loupe, eh!\"\n\n\"I am not thinking about Loupe. O Ransom! stop him; there's Nora\nDinwiddie; I want to get out.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE CHURCH BY THE WINTERGREENS.]\n\nThe place at which they were arrived had a little less the air of\ncarefully kept grounds, and more the look of a sweet wild wood; for the\ntrees clustered thicker in patches, and grey rock, in large and in small\nquantities, was plenty about among the trees. Yet still here was care;\nno unsightly underbrush or rubbish of dead branches was anywhere to be\nseen; and the greensward, where it spread, was shaven and soft as ever.\nIt spread on three sides around a little church, which, in green and\ngray, seemed almost a part of its surroundings. A little church, with a\nlittle quaint bell-tower and arched doorway, built after some old, old\nmodel; it stood as quietly in the green solitude of trees and rocks, as\nif it and they had grown up together. It was almost so. The walls were\nof native greystone in its natural roughness; all over the front and\none angle the American ivy climbed and waved, mounting to the tower;\nwhile at the back, the closer clinging Irish ivy covered the little\n\"apse,\" and creeping round the corner, was advancing to the windows, and\npromising to case the first one in a loving frame of its own. It seemed\nthat no carriage-road came to this place, other than the dressed\ngravelled path which the pony-chaise had travelled, and which made a\ncircuit on approaching the rear of the church. The worshippers must come\nhumbly on foot; and a wicket in front of the church led out upon a path\nsuited for such. Perhaps a public road might be not far off, but at\nleast here there was no promise of it. In the edge of the thicket, at\nthe side of the church, was the girl whose appearance Daisy had hailed.\n\n\"I sha'n't wait for you,\" cried her brother, as she sprang down.\n\n\"No--go--I don't want you,\"--and Daisy made few steps over the\ngreensward to the thicket. Then it was,--\"O Nora! how do you do? what\nare you doing?\"--and \"O Daisy! I'm getting wintergreens.\" Anybody who\nhas ever been nine, or ten, or eleven years old, and gone in the woods\nlooking for wintergreens, knows what followed. The eager plunging into\nthe thickest of the thicket; the happy search of every likely bank or\nopen ground in the shelter of some rock; the careless, delicious\nstraying from rock to rock, and whithersoever the bank or the course of\nthe thicket might lead them. The wintergreens sweet under foot, sweet in\nthe hands of the children, the whole air full of sweetness. Naturally\ntheir quest led them to the thicker and wilder grown part of the wood;\nprettier there, they declared it to be, where the ground became broken,\nand there were ups and downs, and rocky dells and heights, and to turn a\ncorner was to come upon something new. They did not note nor care where\nthey went, intent upon business and pleasure together, till they came\nout suddenly upon a little rocky height, where a small spot was shaded\nwith cedars and set with benches around and under them. The view away\noff over the tops of the trees to other heights and hills in the\ndistance was winningly fair, especially as the sun shewed it just now in\nbright, cool light and shadow. It was getting near sundown.\n\n\"Look where we are!\" cried Nora, \"at the Sunday-school!\"\n\nDaisy seated herself without answering.\n\n\"I think,\" went on Nora, as she followed the example, \"it is the very\nprettiest place for a Sunday-school that there ever was.\"\n\n\"Have you been in other Sunday-schools?\" asked Daisy.\n\n\"Yes, in two.\"\n\n\"What were they like?\"\n\n\"O they were in a church, or in some sort of a room. I like being out of\ndoors best; don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, I think so. But was the school just like this in other things?\"\n\n\"O yes; only once I had a teacher who always asked us what we thought\nabout everything. I didn't like that.\"\n\n\"What you thought about everything?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes; every verse and question, she would say, 'What do you think about\nit?' and I didn't like that, because I never thought anything.\"\n\nWhereat Daisy fell into a muse. Her question recurred to her; but it was\nhardly likely, she felt, that her little companion could enlighten her.\nNora was a bright, lively, spirited child, with black eyes and waves of\nbeautiful black hair; neither at rest; sportive energy and enjoyment in\nevery motion. Daisy was silent.\n\n\"What is supposed to be going on here?\" said a stronger voice behind\nthem, which brought both their heads round. It was to see another head\njust making its way up above the level of their platform; a head that\nlooked strong and spirited as the voice had sounded; a head set with\ndark hair, and eyes that were too full of light to let you see what\ncolour they were. Both children came to their feet, one saying,\n\"Marmaduke!\" the other, \"Mr. Dinwiddie!\"\n\n\"What do two such mature people do when they get together? I should like\nto know,\" said the young man as he reached the top.\n\n\"Talking, sir,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Picking wintergreens,\" said the other, in a breath.\n\n\"Talking! I dare say you do. If both things have gone on together, like\nyour answers,\" said he, helping himself out of Nora's stock of\nwintergreens,--\"you must have had a basket of talk.\"\n\n\"_That_ basket isn't full, sir,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"My dear,\" said Mr. Dinwiddie, diving again into his sister's, \"that\nbasket never is; there's a hole in it somewhere.\"\n\n\"You are making a hole in mine,\" said Nora, laughing. \"You sha'n't do\nit, Marmaduke; they're for old Mrs. Holt, you know.\"\n\n\"Come along, then,\" said her brother; \"as long as the baskets are not\nfull the fun isn't over.\"\n\nAnd soon the children thought so. Such a scrambling to new places as\nthey had then; such a harvest of finest wintergreens as they all\ngathered together; till Nora took off her sunbonnet to serve for a new\nbasket. And such joyous, lively, rambling talk as they had all three,\ntoo; it was twice as good as they had before; or as Daisy, who was quiet\nin her epithets, phrased it, \"it was _nice_.\" By Mr. Dinwiddie's help\nthey could go faster and further than they could alone; he could jump\nthem up and down the rocks, and tell them where it was no use to waste\ntheir time in trying to go.\n\nThey had wandered, as it seemed to them, a long distance--they knew not\nwhither--when the children's exclamations suddenly burst forth, as they\ncame out upon the Sunday-school place again. They were glad to sit down\nand rest. It was just sundown, and the light was glistening, crisp and\nclear, on the leaves of the trees and on the distant hill-points. In the\nwest a mass of glory that the eye could not bear was sinking towards the\nhorizon. The eye could not bear it, and yet every eye turned that way.\n\n\"Can you see the sun?\" said Mr. Dinwiddie.\n\n\"No, sir,\"--and \"No, Marmaduke.\"\n\n\"Then why do you look at it?\"\n\n\"I don't know!\" laughed Nora; but Daisy said: \"Because it is so\nbeautiful, Mr. Dinwiddie.\"\n\n\"Once when I was in Ireland,\" said the gentleman, \"I was looking, near\nsunset, at some curious old ruins. They were near a very poor little\nvillage where I had to pass the night. There had been a little chapel or\nchurch of some sort, but it had crumbled away; only bits of the walls\nwere standing, and in place of the floor there was nothing but grass and\nweeds, and one or two monuments that had been under shelter of the roof.\nOne of them was a large square tomb in the middle of the place. It had\nbeen very handsome. The top of it had held two statues, lying there with\nhands upraised in prayer, in memory of those who slept beneath. But it\nwas so very old--the statues had been lying there so long since the roof\nthat sheltered them was gone, that they were worn away so that you could\nonly just see that they had been statues; you could just make out the\nremains of what had been the heads and where the hands had been. It was\nall rough and shapeless now.\" [Footnote A: See frontispiece.]\n\n\"What had worn the stone so?\" asked Daisy.\n\n\"The weather--the heat and the cold, and the rain, and the dew.\"\n\n\"But it must have taken a great while?\"\n\n\"A very great while. Their names were forgotten--nobody knew whose\nmonument or what church had been there.\"\n\n\"More than a hundred years?\" asked Nora.\n\n\"It had been many hundred.\"\n\n\"O Duke!\"\n\n\"What's the matter? Don't you believe that people died many hundred\nyears ago?\"\n\n\"Yes; but--\"\n\n\"And they had monuments erected to them, and they thought their names\nwould live forever; but these names were long gone, and the very stone\nover their grave was going. While I sat there, thinking about them, and\nwondering what sort of people they were in their lifetime,--the sun,\nwhich had been behind a tree, got lower, and the beams came striking\nacross the stone and brightening up those poor old worn heads and hands\nof what had been statues. And with that the words rushed into my head,\nand they have never got out since,--'_Then_ shall the righteous shine\nforth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father.'\"\n\n\"When, Mr. Dinwiddie?\" said Daisy, after a timid silence.\n\n\"When the King comes!\" said the young man, still looking off to the\nglowing west,--\"the time when he will put away out of his kingdom all\nthings that offend him. You may read about it, if you will, in the\nthirteenth chapter of Matthew, in the parable of the tares.\"\n\nHe turned round to Daisy as he spoke, and the two looked steadily into\none another's faces; the child wondering very much what feeling it could\nbe that had called an additional sparkle into those bright eyes the\nmoment before, and brought to the mouth, which was always in happy play,\nan expression of happy rest. He, on his part, queried what lay under the\nthoughtful, almost anxious, search of the little one's quiet grey eyes.\n\n\"Do you know,\" he said, \"that you must go home? The sun is almost down.\"\n\nSo home they went--Mr. Dinwiddie and Nora taking care of Daisy quite to\nthe house. But it was long after sundown then.\n\n\"What has kept you?\" her mother asked, as Daisy came in to the\ntea-table.\n\n\"I didn't know how late it was, mamma.\"\n\n\"Where have you been?\"\n\n\"I was picking wintergreens with Nora Dinwiddie.\"\n\n\"I hope you brought me some,\" said Mr. Randolph.\n\n\"O I did, papa; only I have not put them in order yet.\"\n\n\"And where did you and Nora part?\"\n\n\"Here, at the door, mamma.\"\n\n\"Was she alone?\"\n\n\"No, ma'am--Mr. Dinwiddie found us in the wood, and he took her home,\nand he brought me home first.\"\n\nDaisy was somewhat of a diplomatist. Perhaps a little natural reserve of\ncharacter might have been the beginning of it, but the habit had\ncertainly grown from Daisy's experience of her mother's somewhat\ncapricious and erratic views of her movements. She could not but find\nout that things which to her father's sense were quite harmless and\nunobjectionable, were invested with an unknown and unexpected character\nof danger or disagreeableness in the eyes of her mother; neither could\nDaisy get hold of any chain of reasoning by which she might know\nbeforehand what would meet her mother's favour and what would not. The\nunconscious conclusion was, that reason had little to do with it; and\nthe consequence, that without being untrue, Daisy had learned to be very\nuncommunicative about her thoughts, plans, or wishes. To her mother,\nthat is; she was more free with her father, though the habit, once a\nhabit, asserted itself everywhere. Perhaps, too, among causes, the\nexample of her mother's own elegant manner of shewing truth only as one\nshews a fine picture,--in the best light,--might have had its effect.\nDaisy's diplomacy served her little on the present occasion.\n\n\"Daisy!\" said her mother, \"look at me.\" Daisy fixed her eves on the\npleasant, handsome, mild face. \"You are not to go anywhere in future\nwhere Mr. Dinwiddie is. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"If he finds you lost out at night, though,\" said Mr. Randolph a little\nhumorously, \"he may bring you home.\"\n\nDaisy wondered and obeyed, mentally, in silence; making no answer to\neither speaker. It was not her habit either to shew her dismay on such\noccasions, and she shewed none. But when she went up an hour later to be\nundressed for bed, instead of letting the business go on, Daisy took a\nBible and sat down by the light and pored over a page that she had\nfound.\n\nThe woman waiting on her, a sad-faced mulatto, middle-aged and\nrespectable looking, went patiently round the room, doing or seeming to\ndo some trifles of business, then stood still and looked at the child,\nwho was intent on her book.\n\n\"Come, Miss Daisy,\" said she at last, \"wouldn't you like to be\nundressed?\"\n\nThe words were said in a tone so low they were hardly more than a\nsuggestion. Daisy gave them no heed. The woman stood with dressing gown\non her arm and a look of habitual endurance upon her face. It was a\nsingular face, so set in its lines of enforced patience, so unbending.\nThe black eyes were bright enough, but without the help of the least\nplay of those fixed lines, they expressed nothing. A little sigh came\nfrom the lips at last, which also was plainly at home there.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, it's gettin' very late.\"\n\n\"June, did you ever read the parable of the tares?\"\n\n\"The what, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"The parable about the wheat and the tares in the Bible--in the\nthirteenth chapter of Matthew?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am,\"--came somewhat dry and unwillingly from June's lips, and\nshe moved the dressing-gown on her arm significantly.\n\n\"Do you remember it?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am,--I suppose I do, Miss Daisy--\"\n\n\"June, when do you think it will be?\"\n\n\"When will what, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"When the 'Son of Man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather\nout of his kingdom all things that offend and them which do iniquity,\nand shall cast them into a furnace of fire; there shall be wailing and\ngnashing of teeth. Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in\nthe kingdom of their Father.' It says, 'in the end of this world'--did\nyou know this world would come to an end, June?\"\n\n\"Yes, Miss Daisy--\"\n\n\"When will it be, June?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"There won't be anybody alive that is alive now, will there?\"\n\nAgain unwillingly the answer came: \"Yes, ma'am. Miss Daisy, hadn't you\nbetter--\"\n\n\"How do you know, June?\"\n\n\"I have heard so--it's in the Bible--it will be when the Lord comes.\"\n\n\"Do you like to think of it, June?\"\n\nThe child's searching eyes were upon her. The woman half laughed, half\nanswered, and turning aside, broke down and burst into tears.\n\n\"What's the matter, June?\" said Daisy, coming nearer and speaking\nawedly; for it was startling to see that stony face give way to anything\nbut its habitual formal smile. But the woman recovered herself almost\nimmediately, and answered as usual: \"It's nothing, Miss Daisy.\" She\nalways spoke as if everything about her was \"nothing\" to everybody else.\n\n\"But, June,\" said Daisy tenderly, \"why do you feel bad about it?\"\n\n\"I shouldn't, I s'pose,\" said the woman desperately, answering because\nshe was obliged to answer; \"I hain't no right to feel so--if I felt\nready.\"\n\n\"How can one be ready, June? that is what I want to know. Aren't you\nready?\"\n\n\"Do, don't, Miss Daisy!--the Lord have mercy upon us!\" said June under\nher breath, wrought up to great excitement, and unable to bear the look\nof the child's soft grey eyes. \"Why don't ye ask your papa about them\nthings? he can tell ye.\"\n\nAlas, Daisy's lips were sealed. Not to father or mother would she apply\nwith any second question on this subject. And now she must not ask Mr.\nDinwiddie. She went to bed, turning the matter all over and over in her\nlittle head.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nFor some days after this time, Mrs. Randolph fancied that her little\ndaughter was less lively than usual; she \"moped,\" her mother said. Daisy\nwas not moping, but it was true she had been little seen or heard; and\nthen it was generally sitting with a book in the Belvidere or on a bank\nunder a rose-bush, or going out or coming in with a book under her arm.\nMrs. Randolph did not know that this book was almost always the Bible,\nand Daisy had taken a little pains that she should not know, guessing\nsomehow that it would not be good for her studies. But her mother\nthought Daisy was drooping; and Daisy had been a delicate child, and the\ndoctor had told them to turn her out in the country and \"let her run;\"\ntherefore it was that she was hardly ever checked in any fancy that came\ninto her head. But therefore it was partly, too, that Mrs. Randolph\ntried to put books and thinking as far from her as she could.\n\n\"Daisy,\" she said one morning at the breakfast-table, \"would you like to\ngo with June and carry some nice things down to Mrs. Parsons?\"\n\n\"How, mamma?\"\n\n\"How what? Do speak distinctly.\"\n\n\"How shall I go, I mean?\"\n\n\"You may have the carriage. I cannot go, this morning or this\nafternoon.\"\n\n\"O papa, mayn't I take Loupe and drive there myself?\"\n\nIf Daisy had put the question at the other end of the table, there would\nhave been an end of the business, as she knew. As it was, her father's\n\"yes\" got out just before her mother's \"no.\"\n\n\"Yes she may,\" said Mr. Randolph--\"no harm. John, tell Sam that he is to\ntake the black pony and go with the pony-chaise whenever Miss Daisy\ndrives. Daisy, see that he goes with you.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mrs. Randolph, \"you may do as you like, but I think it is a\nvery unsafe proceeding. What's Sam?--he's a boy.\"\n\n\"Safe enough,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"I can trust all three of the party;\nDaisy, Loupe, and Sam. They all know their business, and they will all\ndo it.\"\n\n\"Well!--I think it is very unsafe,\" repeated Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"Mamma,\" said Daisy, when she had allowed a moment to pass--\"what shall\nI take to Mrs. Parsons.\"\n\n\"You must go and see Joanna about that. You may make up whatever you\nthink will please her or do her good. Joanna will tell you.\"\n\nAnd Mrs. Randolph had the satisfaction of seeing that Daisy's eyes were\nlively enough for the rest of breakfast-time, and her colour perceptibly\nraised. No sooner was breakfast over than she flew to the consultation\nin the housekeeper's room.\n\nJoanna was the housekeeper, and Mrs. Randolph's right hand; a jewel of\nskill and efficiency; and as fully satisfied with her post and power in\nthe world, at the head of Mr. Randolph's household, as any throned\nemperor or diademed queen; furthermore, devoted to her employers as\nthough their concerns had been, what indeed she reckoned them, her own.\n\n\"Mrs. Randolph didn't say anything to me about it,\" said this piece of\ncapability,--\"but I suppose it isn't hard to manage. Who is Mrs.\nParsons? that's the first thing.\"\n\n\"She's a very poor old woman, Joanna; and she is obliged to keep her bed\nalways; there is something the matter with her. She lives with a\ndaughter of hers who takes care of her, I believe; but they haven't much\nto live upon, and the daughter isn't smart. Mrs. Parsons hasn't anything\nfit for her to eat, unless somebody sends it to her.\"\n\n\"What's the matter with her? ain't she going to get well?\"\n\n\"No, never--she will always be obliged to lie on her bed as long as she\nlives; and so, you see, Joanna, she hasn't appetite for coarse things.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" said Joanna. \"Custards won't give it to her. What does the\ndaughter live upon?\"\n\n\"She does washing for people; but of course that don't give her much.\nThey are very poor, I know.\"\n\n\"Well, what would you like to take her, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"Mother said you'd know.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll tell you what _I_ think--sweetmeats ain't good for such\nfolks. You wait till afternoon, and you shall have a pail of nice broth\nand a bowl of arrowroot with wine and sugar in it; that'll hearten her\nup. Will that do?\"\n\n\"But I should like to take something to the other poor woman, too.\"\n\n\"How are you going?\"\n\n\"In my pony-chaise--I can take anything.\"\n\nJoanna muttered an ejaculation. \"Well then, Miss Daisy, a basket of cold\nmeat wouldn't come amiss, I suppose.\"\n\n\"And some bread, Joanna?\"\n\n\"The chaise won't hold so much.\"\n\n\"It has got to hold the basket,\" said Daisy in much glee, \"and the bread\ncan go in. And, Joanna, I'll have it ready at half-past four o'clock.\"\n\nThere was no air of moping about Daisy, when, at half-past four she set\noff from the house in her pony-chaise, laden with pail and basket and\nall she had bargained for. A happier child was seldom seen. Sam, a\ncapable black boy, was behind her on a pony not too large to shame her\nown diminutive equipage; and Loupe, a good-sized Shetland pony, was very\nable for more than his little mistress was going to ask of him. Her\nfather looked on, pleased, to see her departure; and when she had\ngathered up her reins, leaned over her and gave her with his kiss a\nlittle gold piece to go with the pail and basket. It crowned Daisy's\nsatisfaction; with a quiet glad look and word of thanks to her father,\nshe drove off.\n\n[Illustration: LOUPE.]\n\nThe pony waddled along nicely, but as his legs were none of the longest,\ntheir rate of travelling was not precisely of the quickest. Daisy was\nnot impatient. The afternoon was splendid, the dust had been laid by\nlate rains, and Daisy looked at her pail and basket with great\ncontentment. Before she had gone a quarter of a mile from home, she met\nher little friend of the wintergreens. Nora sprang across the road to\nthe chaise.\n\n\"O Daisy, where are you going?\"\n\n\"I am going to carry some things for mamma, to a house.\"\n\n\"All alone?\"\n\n\"No, Sam is there to take care of me.\"\n\nNora looked back at the black pony, and then at Daisy. \"Isn't it nice!\"\nshe said, with a sort of half-regretful admiration.\n\n\"It's as nice as a fairy tale,\" said Daisy. \"I'm just as good as a\nprincess, you know, Nora. Don't you want to go, too? Do come.\"\n\n\"No, I musn't--there are people coming to tea. Mrs. Linwood, and Charles\nand Jane--I wish I could go! How far is it, Daisy?\"\n\n\"About five miles. Down beyond Crum Elbow, a good nice way; but I shan't\ngo through Crum Elbow.\"\n\n\"It's so splendid!\" sighed Nora. \"Well, good-bye. I can't go.\"\n\nOn went the pony. The roads were good and pleasant, leading through\nfarm, fields and here and there a bit of wood, but not much. It was\nmostly open country, cultivated by farmers; and the grain fields not yet\nripe, and the grass fields not yet mown, looked rich and fair and soft\nin bright colours to Daisy's eyes, as the afternoon sun shone across\nthem and tree shadows lay long over the ground. For trees there were, a\ngreat many, growing singly about the fields and fences, and some of\nthem, very large and fine. Daisy was not so busy with her driving but\nthat she could use her eyes about other things. Now and then she met a\nfarm wagon, or a labourer going along the road. The men looked at her\ncuriously and pleasantly, as if they thought it a pretty sight; but once\nDaisy, passing a couple of men together, overheard one say to the other:\n\n\"It's Randolph's folks--they stick themselves up considerable--\"\n\nThe tone of the voice was gruff and coarse, and Daisy marvelled much in\nher little mind what had displeased the man in her or in \"Randolph's\nfolks.\" She determined to ask her father. \"Stick ourselves up?\" said\nDaisy thoughtfully--\"we _never_ do!\"\n\nSo she touched the pony, who was falling into a very leisurely way of\ntrotting, and in good time came to Mrs. Parsons' door.\n\nDaisy went in. The daughter was busy at some ironing in the outer room;\nshe was a dull, lack-lustre creature, and though she comprehended the\ngifts that had been brought her, seemed hardly to have life enough to\nthank the donor. _That_ wasn't quite like a fairy tale, Daisy thought.\nNo doubt this poor woman must have things to eat, but there was not much\nfun in bringing them to her. Daisy was inclined to wonder how she had\never come to marry anybody with so lively a name as Lark. But before she\ngot away, Mrs. Lark asked Daisy to go in and see her mother, and Daisy,\nnot knowing how to refuse, went in as requested.\n\nWhat a change! Another poor room to be sure, very poor it looked to\nDaisy; with its strip of rag carpet on the floor, its rush-bottomed\nchairs, and paper window-shades; and on the bed lay the bed-ridden\nwoman. But with such a nice pleasant face; eyes so lively and quiet,\nsmile so contented, brow so calm, Daisy wondered if it could be she that\nmust lie there always and never go about again as long as she lived. It\nhad been a matter of dread to her to see anything so disagreeable; and\nnow it was not disagreeable. Daisy was fascinated. Mrs. Lark had\nwithdrawn.\n\n\"Is your mother with you, dear?\"\n\n\"No ma'am, I came alone. Mamma told me to ask Mrs. Parsons if there is\nanything she would like to have, that mamma could do for her.\"\n\n\"Yes; if you would come in and see me sometimes,\" said the old lady, \"I\nshould like it very much.\"\n\n\"Me?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes. I don't see young faces very often. They don't care to come to see\nan old woman.\"\n\n\"I should like to come,\" said Daisy, \"very much, if I could do anything;\nbut I must go now, because it will be late. Good-bye, ma'am.\"\n\nDaisy's little courtesy it was pleasant to see, and it was so pleasant\naltogether that Mrs. Parsons had it over and over in her thoughts that\nday and the next.\n\n\"It's as nice as a fairy tale,\" Daisy repeated to herself, as she took\nher seat in the chaise again and shook up her reins. It was better than\na fairy tale really, for the sunshine coming between the trees from the\nsinking sun, made all the world look so beautiful that Daisy thought no\nwords could tell it. It was splendid to drive through that sunlight. In\na minute or two more she had pulled up her reins short, and almost\nbefore she knew why she had done it or whom she had seen, Mr. Dinwiddie\nstood at her side. Here he was. She must not go where ha was; she had\nnot; he had come to her. Daisy was very glad. But she looked up in his\nface now without speaking.\n\n\"Ha! my stray lamb,\" said he, \"whither are you running?\"\n\n\"Home, sir,\" said Daisy meekly.\n\n\"Do you know you have run away from me?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Dinwiddie.\"\n\n\"How came that?\"\n\n\"It was unavoidable, sir,\" said Daisy, in her slow, old-fashioned way.\nBut the bright eye of the young man saw that her eye fell and her face\nclouded over; it was not a slight nor a chance hindrance that had been\nin her way, he was sure.\n\n\"Then you don't mean to come to me any more?\"\n\nIt was a dreadful question, but Mr. Dinwiddie's way of speaking was so\nclear and quick and business-like, and he seemed to know so well what he\nwas talking about, that the answer was forced from Daisy. She looked up\nand said, \"No, sir.\" He watched the soft thoughtful face that was raised\ntowards him.\n\n\"Then if this is the last time we are to talk about it, Daisy, shall I\nlook for you among those that will 'shine as the sun' in the Lord's\nkingdom?\"\n\n\"O sir,--Mr. Dinwiddie,\"--said Daisy, dropping her reins and rising up,\n\"that is what I want to know about. Please tell me!\"\n\n\"Tell you what?\" said Mr. Dinwiddie, gathering up the reins.\n\n\"Tell me how to do, sir, please.\"\n\n\"What have you done, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Nothing, sir--only reading the Bible.\"\n\n\"And you do not find it there?\"\n\n\"I find a great deal, sir; but I don't quite understand--I don't know\nhow to be a Christian.\"\n\nDaisy thought it might be her last chance; she was desperate, and spoke\nout.\n\n\"Do you love the Lord Jesus, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Mr. Dinwiddie.\"\n\n\"You know how he loves you? You know what he has done for you?\"\n\n\"Yes--I know--\"\n\n\"He died to save you from death and sin. He will do it if you trust him.\nNow what he wants is that you should love him and trust him. 'Let the\nlittle children come to me,' he said a great while ago, and says now.\nDaisy, the good Lord wants you to give him your heart.\"\n\n\"But suppose, Mr. Dinwiddie--\"\n\n\"Yes. What?\"\n\n\"Suppose I can't. I don't know how.\"\n\n\"Do you want to do it?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Indeed I do.\"\n\n\"Very well; the Lord knows just what your difficulty is; you must apply\nto him.\"\n\n\"Apply to him?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Ask him.\"\n\n\"How, sir?\"\n\n\"Pray to him. Tell the Lord your trouble, and ask him to make it all\nright for you. Did you never pray to him?\"\n\n\"No, sir--not ever.\"\n\n\"My lamb,\" said Mr. Dinwiddie, \"he will hear you, if you never prayed to\nhim before. I will shew you the word of his promise.\" And he opened a\npocket-Bible and found the place of these words which he gave Daisy to\nread. \"'_I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony\nheart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh; that\nthey may walk in my statutes, and keep mine ordinances, and do them: and\nthey shall be my people, and I will be their God_.' Now is that what you\nwant, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; only I don't know how.\"\n\n\"Never mind; the Lord knows. He will make it all right, if only you are\nwilling to give yourself to be his little servant.\"\n\n\"I will give him all I have got, sir,\" said Daisy, looking up.\n\n\"Very well; then I will shew you one thing more--it is a word of the\nLord Jesus. See--'_If ye love me, keep my commandments_.' Now I want you\nto keep those two words, and you can't remember where to find them\nagain--I must let you take this book with you.\" And Mr. Dinwiddie folded\ndown leaves in the two places.\n\n\"But Mr. Dinwiddie,\"--said Daisy softly--\"I don't know when I can get it\nback to you again, sir.\"\n\n\"Never mind--keep it, and when you don't want it, give it to some poor\nperson that does. And remember, little one, that the good Lord expects\nhis servants to tell him their troubles and to pray to him every day.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir!\" was Daisy's deep ejaculation.\n\n\"Don't thank me. Now will your pony get you home before dark?\"\n\n\"O yes, Mr. Dinwiddie! Loupe is lazy, but he can go, and I will make\nhim.\"\n\nThe chaise went off at a swift rate accordingly, after another soft\ngrateful look from its little driver. Mr. Dinwiddie stood looking after\nit. Of a certain woman, of Thyatira it is written that \"the Lord opened\nher heart, that she attended to the things which were spoken.\" Surely,\nthe gentleman thought, the same had been true of his late little charge.\nHe went thoughtfully home. While Daisy, not speculating at all, in her\nsimplicity sat thinking that she was the Lord's servant; and rejoiced\nover and over again that she had for her own and might keep the book of\nher Lord's commandments. There were such things as Bibles in the house,\ncertainly, but Daisy had never had one of her own. That in which she had\nread the other night and which she had used to study her lessons for Mr.\nDinwiddie, was one belonging to her brother, which he was obliged to use\nat school. Doubtless Daisy could also have had one for the asking; she\nknew that; but it might have been some time first; and she had a certain\ndoubt in her little mind that the less she said upon the subject the\nbetter. She resolved her treasure should be a secret one. It was right\nfor her to have a Bible; she would not run the risk of disagreeable\ncomments or commands by in any way putting it forward. Meanwhile she had\nbecome the Lord's servant! A very poor little beginning of a servant she\nthought herself; nevertheless in telling Mr. Dinwiddie what she had, it\nseemed to Daisy that she had spoken aloud her oath of allegiance; and a\ngrowing joy in the transaction and a growing love to the great Saviour\nwho was willing to let her be his servant, filled her little heart. She\njust knew that the ride home was lovely, but Daisy's mind was travelling\na yet more sunshiny road. She was intelligent in what she had done. One\nby one Mr. Dinwiddie's lessons had fallen on a willing and open ear. She\nknew herself to be a sinner and lost; she believed that the Lord Jesus\nwould save her by his death; and it seemed to her the most natural and\nreasonable and pleasant thing in the world, that the life for which his\nblood had been shed, should be given to him. \"If ye love me, keep my\ncommandments.\" \"I wonder,\" thought Daisy, \"what they are.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\n\"What sort of an expedition did you have, Daisy?\" her father asked at\nbreakfast next morning. Company the evening before had prevented any\ntalk about it.\n\n\"O very good, papa! It was as good as a fairy tale.\"\n\n\"Was it?\" said Mr. Randolph. \"I wonder what pitch of excellence that is.\nI don't remember ever finding a fairy tale very good to me.\"\n\n\"Did you ever read any, papa?\"\n\n\"I don't know! Were you not tired with your long drive?\"\n\n\"O no, papa!\"\n\n\"Would you like to go again?\"\n\n\"Yes papa, very much.\"\n\n\"You may go as often as you like--only always let Sam be along.\"\n\n\"Did you find out what Mrs. Parsons wants?\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"No, mamma--she did not look as if she wanted anything, except to see\nme. And yet she is very poor, mamma.\"\n\nAt this speech Mr. Randolph burst into a round laugh, and even Mrs.\nRandolph seemed amused.\n\n\"Did she _look_ as if she wanted to see you, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Papa, I think she did,\" said Daisy colouring; \"she said so at any rate;\nbut I could not find out what else she would like.\"\n\n\"Daisy, I think she shewed very good taste,\" said Mr. Randolph, drawing\nhis little daughter into his arms; \"but it would be safe to take\nsomething else with you when you go.\"\n\n\"Your birthday is next week, Daisy,\" said her mother; \"and your aunt\nGary and your cousins will be here. What would you like to have, to\ncelebrate the day?\"\n\n\"I don't know, mamma,\" said Daisy, returning her father's kisses.\n\n\"You may have what you please, if you will think and tell me.\"\n\n\"Mamma, may I talk to Nora Dinwiddie about it?\"\n\n\"Nonsense! What for?\"\n\n\"Only to consult, mamma.\"\n\n\"Consult Ransom. He would be a much better help to you.\"\n\nDaisy looked sober and said nothing.\n\n\"Why not?\" said Mr. Randolph. \"Why not consult your brother?\"\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy slowly, \"Ransom and I do not understand each other.\"\n\n\"Don't you,\" said her father laughing; \"what is the cause of that,\nDaisy?\"\n\nDaisy was not very willing to answer, but being pressed by both father\nand mother she at length spoke. \"I think, papa, it is because he\nunderstands so many other things.\"\n\nMr. Randolph was excessively amused. \"Ransom!\"--he called out to the\nhall.\n\n\"Please, papa, don't!\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Ransom!--come here.--What is this? your sister says you do not\nunderstand her.\"\n\n\"Well, papa,\" said Ransom, an exceedingly handsome and bright-looking\nboy and a great pet of his mother,--\"there are things that are not deep\nenough to be understood.\"\n\nDaisy's lips opened eagerly and then closed again.\n\n\"Girls always use magnifying glasses where themselves are concerned!\"\nwent on Ransom, whose dignity seemed to be excited.\n\n\"Hush, hush!\" said his father,--\"take yourself off, if you cannot\nmaintain civility. And your mother does not like fishing-tackle at the\nbreakfast-table--go! I believe,\" he said as Ransom bounded away, \"I\nbelieve conceit is the normal condition of boyhood.\"\n\n\"I am sure,\" said Mrs. Randolph, \"girls have enough of it--and women\ntoo.\"\n\n\"I suppose it would be rash to deny that,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"Daisy, I\nthink _I_ understand you. I do not require so much depth as is necessary\nfor Ransom's understanding to swim in.\"\n\n\"If you do not deny it, it would be well not to forget it,\" said Mrs.\nRandolph; while Daisy still in her father's arms was softly returning\nhis caresses.\n\n\"What shall we do on your birthday, Daisy?\" said her father without\nseeming to heed this remark.\n\n\"Papa, I will think about it. Mamma, do you like I should talk to Nora\nabout it?\"\n\n\"By all means!\" said Mr. Randolph; \"send for her and hold a grand\ncouncil. Your mother can have no objection.\"\n\nDaisy did not feel quite so sure of that; but at any rate she made none,\nand a messenger was sent to ask Nora to come that afternoon. All the\nmorning Daisy was engaged with her mother, going to make a visit to some\nfriends that lived a long way off. It was not till the afternoon was\ngrowing cool and pleasant that she was released from dinner and dressing\nand free to go with her Bible to her favourite reading place;--or rather\none of her favourites; a garden seat under a thick oak. The oak stood\nalone on a knoll looking over a beautiful spread of grassy sward that\nsloped and rolled away to a distant edge of thicket. Other noble trees\ndotted the ground here and there; some fine cattle shewed their red and\nwhite heads, standing or lying about in the shade. Above the distant\nthicket, far, far away, rose the heads of great blue mountains. The\ngrass had just been mown, in part; and a very sweet smell from the hay\nfloated about under the trees around the house. Daisy's tree however was\nat some distance from the house. In the absolute sweet quiet, Daisy and\nher Bible took possession of the place. The Bible had grown a wonderful\nbook to her now. It was the book of the commandments of the Great King\nwhose servant she felt herself. Now every word would tell her of\nsomething she must do, or not do; all sweet to Daisy; for she felt she\nloved the King, and his commandments were good to her. This time she got\nvery much interested in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, in the\nparable of the talents. But she wished she could have had Mr. Dinwiddie\nto tell her a little better exactly what it meant. Some of its meaning\nshe understood; and remembering Mr. Dinwiddie's words, she prayed with\nclasped hands and a very earnest little heart, that the Lord would \"make\nher know what all her talents were and help her to make good use of\nthem.\" Then Daisy went on studying.\n\nIn the midst of her studies, a light step bounded down through the\nshrubbery from the house, and Daisy had hardly raised her head when Nora\nwas at her side. There was room for her on the seat, and after a glad\ngreeting the children sat down together, to talk much joyful talk and\ntell childish news, in the course of which Daisy's perplexities came\nout, for which she had wanted Nora's counsel. She explained that she\ncould have precisely what she chose, in the way of merry-making for her\nbirthday. Daisy spoke about it seriously, as a weighty and important\nmatter; and so Nora took it up, with a face of great eagerness.\n\n\"You can have _just_ what you like, Daisy?\" Daisy nodded. \"O what have\nyou thought of, Daisy?\"\n\n\"What would be nicest, Nora?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what _I_ should have--I should have a party.\"\n\n\"A party!\"\n\n\"Yes, that is what _I_ should have.\"\n\n\"I never thought of that. Who would you ask, Nora? I thought of a\npic-nic; and of a great journey to Schroeder's Mountain;--that would be\nnice;--to spend the whole day, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes, that would be nice: but I should have a party. O there are plenty\nto have. There is Kitty Marsden.\"\n\n\"I don't know Kitty Marsden, much\"--said Daisy.\n\n\"And Ella Stanfield.\"\n\n\"I like Ella Stanfield\"--said Daisy sedately.\n\n\"And there are the Fishes.\"\n\n\"I don't like Mrs. Fish's children very well;--when Alexander and Ransom\nget together, they make--a great deal of disturbance!\"\n\n\"O we needn't mind their disturbance,\" said Nora; and she went on\ndiscussing the plan and the advantages of the party. Suddenly Daisy\nbroke in with a new subject. \"Nora, you know the story of the servants\nwith the talents, in the New Testament?\"\n\n\"Yes--\" said Nora with open eyes; \"I know.\"\n\n\"Do you know what it means?--the talents, I mean; of course I know what\nthe rest means; but do you know what the talents are? Is it just\nmoney?--because then you and I have very little indeed; and all the\nservants had something.\"\n\n\"Why Daisy, what made you think of that just now? we were talking about\nthe party.\"\n\n\"I have been thinking of it all the while,\" said Daisy. \"I was reading\nit--do you know what it means, Nora?\"\n\n\"But we were talking about the party!\" said Nora.\n\n\"Yes, but I want to understand this; and then we will go on about the\nparty. If _you_ know what it means.\"\n\n\"I have heard Duke explain it,\" said Nora, unwillingly coming to the\ngraver subject.\n\n\"Well, what does he say it is? the talents, you know.\"\n\n\"Duke says it is everything anybody has. Not money, _everything_--Now\ndon't you think we can make up a nice party?\"\n\n\"Everything, Nora? Just wait a little--I want to know about this. What\ndo you mean by 'everything'?\"\n\n\"Are you studying for Sunday-school, Daisy? that isn't the lesson.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Daisy sorrowfully; \"if I was, I could ask Mr. Dinwiddie.\nThat's why I want you to help me, Nora; so think and tell me what he\nsaid.\"\n\n\"Well, _that_,\" said Nora, \"he said that; he said the talents meant\neverything God has given people to work with for him.\"\n\n\"What could they work with besides money?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Why _everything_, Duke says; all they've got; their tongues and their\nhands and their feet, and all they know, and all their love for people;\nand even the way we do things, our studies and all, Marmaduke says. What\ndo you want to know for, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I was thinking about it,\" answered Daisy evasively. \"Wait a minute,\nNora,--I want to write it down, for fear I should forget something.\"\n\n\"What _are_ you going to do?\" exclaimed Nora. \"Are you going to teach a\nclass yourself?\"\n\nDaisy did not answer, while she was writing down with a pencil what Nora\nhad said and making her repeat it for that purpose. When she had done\nshe looked a little dubiously off towards the woods, while Nora was\nsurprised and disappointed into silence.\n\n\"I think perhaps I ought to tell you----\" was Daisy's slow conclusion.\n\"I want to know what this means, that I may do it, Nora.\"\n\n\"_Do_ it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Daisy turning her quiet eyes full upon her companion--\"I\nwant to try to please God. I love the Lord Jesus.\"\n\nNora was very much confounded, and looked at Daisy as if a gap in the\nground had suddenly separated them.\n\n\"So,\" Daisy went on, \"as I have talents to use, I want to know what they\nare, for fear I shouldn't use them all. I don't understand it yet, but I\nwill think about it. Now we will go on about the party if you like.\"\n\n\"But Daisy----\" said Nora.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Are you in earnest?\"\n\n\"Certainly I am in earnest,\" said Daisy gravely. \"What makes you ask me?\nDon't you think your brother is in earnest?\"\n\n\"Marmaduke! oh yes,--but--you never told me of it before.\"\n\n\"I didn't know it till yesterday,\" said Daisy simply, \"that I loved the\nLord Jesus; but I know I do now, and I am very glad; and I am going to\nbe his servant.\"\n\nHer little face was very sweet and quiet as she looked at her little\nneighbour and said these words; but Nora was utterly confounded, and so\nnearly dismayed that she was silent; and it was not till several\ninvitations in Daisy's usual manner had urged her, that she was able to\nget upon the subject of the party again and to discuss it with any\nspirit. The discussion then did not come to any determination. Daisy was\nat least lukewarm in her fancy for that mode of spending her birthday;\nand separate plans of pic-nics and expeditions of pleasure were taken up\nand handled, sure to be thrown aside by Nora for the greater promise and\nsplendour of the home entertainment. They broke up at last without\ndeciding upon anything, except that Nora should come again to talk about\nit, and should at all events have and give her share in whatever the\nplan for the day might be.\n\nPerhaps Daisy watched her opportunity, perhaps it came; but at all\nevents she seized the first chance that she saw to speak with her father\nin private. He was sauntering out the next morning after breakfast.\nDaisy joined him, and they strolled along through the grounds, giving\nhere and there directions to the gardener, till they came near one of\nthe pleasant rustic seats, under the shade of a group of larches.\n\n\"Papa, suppose we sit down here for a moment and let us look about us.\"\n\n\"Well, Daisy,\"--said her father, who knew by experience what was likely\nto follow.\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy as they sat down, \"I want to ask you about\nsomething.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"When I was in the chaise, driving Loupe the other day, papa, I heard\nsomething that I could not understand.\"\n\n\"Did you?\"\n\n\"It was two men that passed me on the road; I heard one say to the other\nas I went by, that it was your carriage, and then he said that\n'Randolph's folks were a good deal _stuck up_;'--what did he mean,\npapa?\"\n\n\"Nothing of any consequence, Daisy.\"\n\n\"But why did he say it, papa?\"\n\n\"Why do you want to know?\"\n\n\"I did not understand it nor like it, papa; I wanted to know what he\nmeant.\"\n\n\"It is hardly worth talking about, Daisy. It is the way those who have\nnot enough in the world are very apt to talk of others who are better\noff than themselves.\"\n\n\"Why, papa?\"\n\n\"They were poor men, I suppose, weren't they?\"\n\n\"Yes papa--working men.\"\n\n\"That class of people, my dear, are very apt to have a grudge against\nthe rich.\"\n\n\"For what, papa?\"\n\n\"For being able to live better than they do.\"\n\n\"Why papa! do poor people generally feel so?\"\n\n\"Very often, I think. They do not generally speak it out aloud.\"\n\n\"Then papa,\" said Daisy speaking slowly, \"how do you know? What makes\nyou think they feel so?\"\n\nHer father smiled at her eagerness and gravity. \"I see it, Daisy, when\nthey do not speak it. They shew it in various ways. Besides, I know\ntheir habit of talking among themselves.\"\n\n\"But papa, that is very bad.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"That poor people should feel so. I am sure rich people are their best\nfriends.\"\n\nHer father stroked her head fondly, and looked amused.\n\n\"They don't believe that, Daisy.\"\n\n\"But _why_ don't they believe it, papa?\" said Daisy growing more and\nmore surprised.\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Mr. Randolph rising, \"they would be better satisfied\nif I gave them my horses and went afoot.\"\n\nA speech which Daisy pondered and pondered and could make nothing of.\nThey walked on, Mr. Randolph making observations and giving orders now\nand then to workmen. Here a man was mowing under the shrubbery; there\nthe gardener was setting out pots of greenhouse flowers; in another\nplace there were holes digging for trees to be planted. Daisy went\nmusing on while her father gave his orders, and when they were again\nsafe out of hearing she spoke. \"Papa, do you suppose Michael and Andrew\nand John, and all your own people, feel so about you?\"\n\n\"I think it is likely, Daisy. I can't hope to escape better than my\nneighbours.\"\n\n\"But, papa, they don't look so, nor act so?\"\n\n\"Not before me. They do not wish to lose their places.\"\n\n\"Papa,--couldn't something be done to make them feel better?\"\n\n\"Why Daisy,\" said her father laughing, \"are you going to turn\nreformer?\"\n\n\"I don't know what that is, papa.\"\n\n\"A thankless office, my dear. If you could make all the world wise, it\nwould do, but fools are always angry with you for trying it.\"\n\nThe conversation ended and left Daisy greatly mystified. Her father's\npeople not liking him?--the poor having ill will against the rich, and a\ngrudge against their pleasant things?--it was very melancholy! Daisy\nthought about it a great deal that day; and had a very great talk on the\nsubject with Nora, who without a quarter of the interest had much more\nknowledge about it than Daisy. She had been with her brother sometimes\nto the houses of poor children, and she gave Daisy a high-coloured\npicture of the ways of living in such houses and the absence of many\nthings by Daisy and herself thought the necessaries of life. Daisy heard\nher with a lengthening face, and almost thought there was some excuse\nfor the state of feeling her father had explained in the morning. The\nquestion however was too long a one for Daisy; but she arrived at one\nconclusion, which was announced the next morning at the breakfast-table.\nMrs. Randolph had called upon her to say what was determined upon for\nthe birthday.\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy, \"will there be a great plenty of strawberries next\nweek?\"\n\n\"Yes, I believe so. Logan says the vines are very full. What then?\"\n\n\"Papa, you gave me my choice of what I would have for Wednesday.\"\n\n\"Yes. Is it my strawberry patch?\"\n\n\"Not for myself, papa. I want you to have a great table set out of doors\nsomewhere, and give a feast to all your work people.\"\n\n\"Daisy!\" exclaimed Mrs. Randolph. \"I never heard anything so ridiculous\nin all my life!\"\n\nDaisy waited with downcast eyes for her father to speak. He was not in a\nhurry.\n\n\"Would that give you pleasure, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa.\"\n\n\"Did Nora Dinwiddie put that scheme in your head?\" asked Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"She didn't like it at all, mamma. I put it into her head.\"\n\n\"Where did you get it?\"\n\nDaisy looked troubled and puzzled, and did not answer till her father\nsaid \"Speak.\" Then nestling up to him with her head on his breast, a\nfavourite position, she said, \"I got it from different sources, I think,\npapa.\"\n\n\"Let us hear, for instance.\"\n\n\"I think, partly from the Bible, papa--and partly from what we were\ntalking of yesterday.\"\n\n\"I wish you would shew me where you found it in the Bible. I don't\nremember a strawberry feast there.\"\n\n\"Do you mean it in earnest, papa?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nDaisy walked off for a Bible--not her own--and after some trouble found\na place which she shewed her father; and he read aloud, \"When thou\nmakest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends nor thy brethren,\nneither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours; lest they also bid thee\nagain, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call\nthe poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind; and thou shalt be blessed;\nfor they cannot recompense thee; for thou shalt be recompensed at the\nresurrection of the just.\" Mr. Randolph closed the book and laid it on\nthe table, and drew his little daughter again within his arms.\n\n\"That child is in a way to get ruined!\" said Mrs. Randolph\nenergetically.\n\n\"But Daisy, our work people are not lame or blind--how will they do?\"\nsaid her father.\n\n\"They are poor, papa. I would like to have the others too, but we can't\nhave everybody.\"\n\nMr. Randolph kissed the little mouth that was lifted so near his own,\nand went on.\n\n\"Do you think then it is wrong to have our friends and neighbours? Shall\nwe write to your aunt and cousins, and Gary McFarlane and Capt.\nDrummond, to stay away?\"\n\n\"No, papa,\" said Daisy smiling, and her smile was very sweet,--\"you know\nI don't mean that. I would like to have them all; but I would like the\nfeast made for the other people.\"\n\n\"You will let the rest of us have some strawberries?\"\n\n\"If there are enough, papa. For that day, I would like the other people\nto have them.\"\n\nMr. Randolph seemed to find something as sweet as strawberries in\nDaisy's lips.\n\n\"It is the very most absurd plan I ever heard of!\" repeated her mother.\n\n\"I am not sure that it is not a very good thing,\" remarked Mr. Randolph.\n\n\"Is it expected that on that day we are to do without servants in the\nhouse, and wait upon ourselves? or are we expected to wait upon the\nparty!\"\n\n\"O mamma,\" said Daisy, \"it isn't the servants--it's only the out-of-door\npeople.\"\n\n\"How many will there be, Daisy?\" said her father; \"have you numbered\nthem up?\"\n\n\"Not yet, papa. There is Logan, and Michael, and Mr. Stilton, and the\ntwo under-gardeners----\"\n\n\"And four hay-makers.\"\n\n\"Hay-makers, papa?\"\n\n\"Yes--there will be four of them in the fields next week. And there is\nthe herdsman and boy.\"\n\n\"And there is old Patrick at the gate. That is all, papa.\"\n\n\"And are the ladies of all these families to be invited?\"\n\n\"Papa! What do you think?\"\n\n\"I have no doubt there will be strawberries enough.\"\n\n\"But I am afraid there would be too many children. Logan has six, and\nMichael has four, and I believe the herdsman has some; and there are\nfour at the Lodge. And Mr. Stilton has two.\"\n\n\"What shall we do with them, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Papa, we can't have them. I should like to have the men and their wives\ncome, I think, and send some strawberries home to the children. Wouldn't\nthat do best?\"\n\n\"Admirably. And you can drive over to Crum Elbow and purchase some\nsuitable baskets. Take the chaise and Sam. I expect you to arrange\neverything. If you want help, come and consult me.\"\n\n\"If mamma will tell Joanna--?\" said Daisy looking somewhat doubtfully\ntowards the other end of the table.\n\n\"I have nothing to do with it,\" said Mrs. Randolph. \"I have no knowledge\nhow to order such parties. You and Joanna may do what you please.\"\n\nDaisy's eye went to her father.\n\n\"That will do, Daisy,\" said he. \"You and Joanna can manage it. You may\nhave carte-blanche.\"\n\nThe earliest minute that she knew Joanna could attend to her, found\nDaisy in the housekeeper's room. Joanna was a tall, rather hard-featured\nwoman, with skill and capacity in every line of her face however, and\nalmost in every fold of her gown. She heard with a good deal of\nastonishment the project unfolded to her, and to Daisy's great delight\ngave it her unqualified approbation.\n\n\"It's a first-rate plan,\" said Joanna. \"Now I like that. The men won't\nforget it. Where are you going to have the table set, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't know yet, Joanna. In some pretty, shady place, under the\ntrees.\"\n\n\"Out of doors, eh!\" said Joanna. \"Well, I suppose that'll be as good a\nway as any. Now what are you going to have, Miss Daisy? what do you want\nof me?\"\n\n\"Mamma and papa said I was to arrange it with you.\"\n\nJoanna sat down and folded her arms to consider the matter.\n\n\"How many will there be?\"\n\n\"I counted,\" said Daisy. \"There will be about seventeen, with their\nwives, you know.\"\n\n\"Seventeen, wives and all?\" said Joanna. \"You'll have to get the\ncarpenter or Mr. Stilton to make you a table.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's easy,\" said Daisy; \"but Joanna, what shall we have on it?\nThere will want to be a good deal, for seventeen people; and I want it\nhandsome, you know.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Joanna, looking as if she were casting up the\nMultiplication Table--\"it'll have to be that, whatever else it is. Miss\nDaisy, suppose you let me manage it--and I'll see and have it all right.\nIf you will give orders about the strawberries, and have the table\nmade.\"\n\n\"I shall dress the table with flowers, Joanna.\"\n\n\"Yes--well--\" said Joanna,--\"I don't know anything about flowers; but\nI'll have the cake ready, and everything else.\"\n\n\"And tea and coffee, Joanna?\"\n\n\"Why I never thought of that!--yes, to be sure, they'll want something\nto drink--who will pour it out, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Won't you, Joanna?\"\n\n\"Well--I don't know--\" said the housekeeper, as if she were afraid of\nbeing taken on too fast by her little counsellor--\"I don't know as\nthere's anything to hinder, as it's your birthday, Miss Daisy.\"\n\nAway went Daisy delighted, having secured just what she wanted. The rest\nwas easy. And Daisy certainly thought it was as promising an\nentertainment as she could have devised. It gave her a good deal of\nbusiness. The table, and the place for the table, had to be settled with\nMr. Stilton, and the invitations given, and many particulars settled;\nbut to settle them was extremely pleasant, and Daisy found that every\nface of those concerned in the invitations wore a most golden glow of\nsatisfaction when the thing was understood. Daisy was very happy. She\nhoped, besides the pleasantness of the matter, it would surely incline\nthe hearts of her father's workpeople to think kindly of him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nIt happened that one cause and another hindered Daisy from going to Crum\nElbow to fetch the strawberry-baskets, until the very Tuesday afternoon\nbefore the birthday. Then everything was right; the pony chaise before\nthe door, Sam in waiting, and Daisy just pulling her gloves on, when\nRansom rushed up. He was flushed and hurried.\n\n\"Who's going out with Loupe?\"\n\n\"I am, Ransom.\"\n\n\"You can't go, Daisy--I'm going myself.\"\n\n\"You cannot, Ransom. I am going on business. Papa said I was to go.\"\n\n\"He couldn't have said it! for he said I might have the chaise this\nafternoon and that Loupe wanted exercise. So! I am going to give him\nsome. He wouldn't get it with you.\"\n\n\"Ransom,\" said Daisy trembling, \"I have got business at Crum Elbow, and\nI must go, and you must not.\"\n\n\"Fiddlesticks!\" said Ransom, snapping his fingers at her. \"Business! I\nguess you have. Girls have a great deal of business! Here Sam--ride\nround mighty quick to Mr. Rush's and tell Hamilton to meet me at the\ncross road.\"\n\nAnd without another word to Daisy, Ransom sprang into the chaise,\ncracked his whip over Loupe's head and started him off in a very\nungraceful but very eager waddling gallop. Daisy was left with one glove\non and with a spirit thoroughly disordered. A passionate child she was\nnot, in outward manner at least; but her feelings once roused were by no\nmeans easy to bring down again. She was exceedingly offended, very much\ndisturbed at missing her errand, very sore at Ransom's ill-bred\ntreatment of her. Nobody was near; her father and mother both gone out;\nand Daisy sat upon the porch with all sorts of resentful thoughts and\nwords boiling up in her mind. She did not believe half of what her\nbrother had said; was sure her father had given no order interfering\nwith her proceedings; and she determined to wait upon the porch till he\ncame home and so she would have a good opportunity of letting him know\nthe right and the wrong of the case. Ransom deserved it, as she truly\nsaid to herself. And then Daisy sorrowed over her lost expedition, and\nher missing strawberry baskets. What should she do? for the next morning\nwould find work enough of its own at home, and nobody else could choose\nthe baskets to please her. Ransom deserved--!\n\nIn the midst of the angry thoughts that were breaking one over the other\nin Daisy's mind, there suddenly came up the remembrance of some words\nshe had read that day or the day before. \"_Lord, how oft shall my\nbrother sin against me and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith\nunto him, I say not unto thee, until seven times, but until seventy\ntimes seven._\" This brought Daisy up short; her head which had been\nleaning on her hands suddenly straightened itself up. What did those\nwords mean? There could be no doubt, for with the question came the\nwords in the Lord's Prayer which she knew well, but had never felt till\nthen. Forgive Ransom out and out?--say nothing about it?--not tell her\nfather, nor make her grievance at all known to Ransom's\ndiscomfiture?--Daisy did not want to yield. He _deserved_ to be reproved\nand ashamed and made to do better. It was the first time that a real\nconflict had come up in her mind between wrong and right; and now that\nshe clearly saw what was right, to her surprise she did not want to do\nit! Daisy saw both facts. There was a power in her heart that said, No,\nI will not forgive, to the command from a greater power that bade her do\nit. Poor Daisy! it was her first view of her enemy; the first trial that\ngave her any notion of the fighting that might be necessary to overcome\nhim. Daisy found she could not overcome him. She was fain to go, where\nshe had just begun to learn she might go, \"to the Strong for strength.\"\nShe ran away from the porch to her room, and kneeled down and prayed\nthat the King would give her help to keep his commandments. She was\nashamed of herself now; but so obstinate was her feeling of displeasure\nagainst her brother, that even after she thought she had forgiven him\nDaisy would not go downstairs again nor meet him nor her father, for\nfear she should speak words that she ought not, or fail of a perfectly\ngentle and kind manner.\n\nBut what to do about her baskets? A bright and most business-like\nthought suddenly came into her head. The breakfast hour was always late;\nby being a little earlier than usual she could have plenty of time to go\nto Crum Elbow and return before the family were assembled. Splendid!\nDaisy went down the back stairs and gave her orders in such a way that\nthey should not reach Ransom's ear. If not put on the alert he was sure\nto be down to breakfast last of anybody. So Daisy went to bed and to\nsleep with her mind at rest.\n\nIt was so pleasant when she came out at half past six the next morning,\nthat Daisy almost thought it was the prettiest time of all. The morning\nair smelt so fresh, with the scent of the trees and flowers coming\nthrough the dew; and the light was so cool and clear, not like the hot\nglow of later hours, that Daisy felt like dancing for very gladness.\nThen it was such a stroke of business to go to Crum Elbow before\nbreakfast!\n\nThe pony and the chaise came up presently, and Sam and the black pony,\nall right, and every one of them looking more brisk and fresh than\nusual. And off they went; under the boughs of the dew-bright trees,\nwhere the birds seemed to be as glad as Daisy, to judge by the songs\nthey were singing; and by and by out from the beautiful grounds of\nMelbourne, into the road. It was pleasanter there, Daisy thought, than\nshe had ever seen it. The fields looked more gay in that clear early\nlight, and the dust was kept down by the freshness in the air. It was\ndelightful; and Loupe never went better. Daisy was a very good little\ndriver, and now the pony seemed to understand the feeling in her fingers\nand waddled along at a goodly rate.\n\nCrum Elbow was not a great many miles off, and in due time they reached\nit. But Daisy found that other people kept earlier hours than her father\nand mother at Melbourne. She saw the farmers were getting to work as she\nwent on; and in the houses of the village there were signs that\neverybody was fully astir to the business of the day. It was a\nscattering village; the houses and the churches stood and called to each\nother across great spaces of fields and fences between; but just where\nthe crossing of two roads made a business point, there was a little more\ncompactness. There was the baker's, and the post-office, and two stores\nand various other houses, and a blacksmith's shop. Up to the corner\nwhere the principal store stood, came the pony and his mistress, and\nforthwith out came Mr. Lamb the storekeeper, to see what the little pony\nchaise wanted to take home; but Daisy must see for herself, and she got\nout and went into the store.\n\n\"Baskets,\" said Mr. Lamb. \"What sort of baskets?\"\n\n\"Baskets to hold strawberries--little baskets,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Ah! strawberry baskets. That, ma'am, is the article.\"\n\nWas it? Daisy did not think so. The storekeeper had shewed her the kind\nof baskets commonly used to hold strawberries for the market; containing\nabout half a pint. She remarked they were not large enough.\n\n\"No, ma'am? They are the kind generally used--regular strawberry\nbaskets--we have sold 'em nearly all out, but we've got a few left.\"\n\n\"They are not large enough, nor pretty enough,\" repeated Daisy.\n\n\"They'll look pretty when they get the strawberries in them,\" said the\nstorekeeper with a knowing look at her. \"But here's a kind, ma'am, are a\nlittle neater--may be you would like these--What do you want, child?\"\n\nThere had come into the store just after Daisy a little poor-looking\nchild, who had stood near, watching what was going on. Daisy turned to\nlook at her as Mr. Lamb's question was thrown at her over the counter,\nin a tone very different from his words to herself. She saw a pale,\nfreckled, pensive-faced little girl, in very slim clothing, her dress\nshort and ragged, and feet bare. The child had been looking at her and\nher baskets, but now suddenly looked away to the shopkeeper.\n\n\"Please, sir, I want--\"\n\n\"There! stop,\" said Mr. Lamb; \"don't you see I'm busy. I can't attend to\nyou just now; you must wait.--Are these baskets better, ma'am?\" he said\ncoming back to Daisy and a smooth voice.\n\nDaisy felt troubled, but she tried to attend to her business. She asked\nthe price of the baskets.\n\n\"Those first I shewed you, ma'am, are three pence apiece--these are\nsixpence. This is quite a tasty basket,\" said Mr. Lamb, balancing one on\nhis forefinger. \"Being open, you see, it shews the fruit through. I\nthink these might answer your purpose.\"\n\n\"What are those?\" said Daisy pointing to another kind.\n\n\"Those, ma'am, are not strawberry baskets.\"\n\n\"But please let me see one.--What is the price?\"\n\n\"These fancy baskets, ma'am, you know, are another figure. These are not\nintended for fruit. These are eighteen pence apiece, ma'am.\"\n\nDaisy turned the baskets and the price over. They were very neat! they\nwould hold as many berries as the sixpenny ones, and look pretty too, as\nfor a festival they should. The sixpenny ones were barely neat--they had\nno gala look about them at all. While Daisy's eye went from one to the\nother, it glanced upon the figure of the poor, patient, little waiting\ngirl who stood watching her. \"If you please, Mr. Lamb,\" she said, \"will\nyou hear what this little girl has to say?--while I look at these.\"\n\n\"What do you want, child?\"\n\nThe answer came very low, but though Daisy did not want to listen she\ncould not help hearing.\n\n\"Mother wants a pound of ham, sir.\"\n\n\"Have you brought the money for the flour?\"\n\n\"No, sir--mother'll send it.\"\n\n\"We don't cut our hams any more,\" said the storekeeper. \"Can't sell any\nless than a whole one--and that's always cash. There! go child--I can't\ncut one for you.\"\n\nDaisy looked after the little ragged frock as it went out of the door.\nThe extreme mystery of some people being rich and some people poor,\nstruck her anew, and perhaps something in her look as it came back to\nthe storekeeper made him say,\n\n\"They're very poor folks, Miss Randolph--the mother's sickly, and I\nshould only lose my money. They came and got some flour of me yesterday\nwithout paying for it--and it's necessary to put a stop to that kind of\nthing at once. Don't you think that basket'll suit, ma'am?\"\n\nBaskets? and what meant those words which had been over and over in\nDaisy's mind for the few days past?--\"Whatsoever ye would that men\nshould do to you, do ye even so to them.\" Her mind was in great\nconfusion.\n\n\"How much does a ham cost, Mr. Lamb?\"\n\n\"Sixteen pence a pound, ma'am,\" said the storekeeper rather drily, for\nhe did not know but Daisy was thinking a reproof to him.\n\n\"But how many pounds are there in a ham?\"\n\n\"Just as it happens, ma'am--sometimes twenty, and from there down to\nten.\"\n\n\"Then how much does a whole ham cost?\" said Daisy, whose arithmetic was\nnot ready.\n\n\"A ham of fifteen pounds, ma'am, would be about two dollars and forty\ncents.\"\n\nDaisy stood looking at the baskets, and thinking how much money she\nwould have over if she took the sixpenny ones. She wanted twenty\nbaskets; she found that the difference of price between the plain and\nthe pretty would leave her twenty shillings in hand. Just enough!\nthought Daisy,--and yet, how could she go to a strange house and offer\nto give them a ham? She thought she could not. If she had known the\npeople; but as it was--Daisy bought the pretty baskets and set off\nhomewards.\n\n\"Whatsoever ye would that others should do to you, do ye even so to\nthem\"--Daisy could see nothing along the road but those words. \"That is\nmy King's command to me--and those poor people have got no breakfast. If\nI was in that little girl's place, I would _like_ to have it given to\nme. But those other baskets--would they do?--I could make them do\nsomehow--Nora and I could dress them up with greens and flowers!\"--\n\nThe pony chaise stopped. Sam came up alongside.\n\n\"Sam, take those baskets back to the store. I am going back there.\"\n\nRound came the chaise, and in five minutes more they were at the Crum\nElbow corner again, for Daisy's heartburning had not let her go far. Mr.\nLamb was exceedingly mystified, as it was very unusual for young ladies\nlike this one to come buying whole hams and riding off with them.\nHowever he made no objections to the exchange, being a gainer by ten\ncents; for Daisy had asked for a ham of fifteen pounds. Then Daisy\nenquired the way to the girl's house, and her name, and set off in a new\ndirection. It was not far; a plain little brown house, with a brown gate\na few yards from the door. Daisy got out of the chaise and opened the\ngate, and there stood still and prayed a little prayer that God would\nhelp her not to feel foolish or afraid when she was trying to do right.\nThen she went up to the door and knocked. Somebody said in a very\nuninviting tone of voice, \"Come in!\"\n\nIt was hard for Daisy; she had expected that somebody would open the\ndoor, but now she must go in and face all that was there. However, in\nshe went. There was a poor room to be sure, with not much in it. A woman\nwas taking some hot bread, just baked, out of a little cooking stove.\nDaisy saw the little girl standing by; it was the right place.\n\n\"Well!\" said the woman looking up at Daisy from her stove oven--\"what is\nit?\" She looked pale and unhappy, and her words were impatient. Daisy\nwas half afraid.\n\n\"I am Daisy Randolph\"--she began gently.\n\n\"Go on,\" said the woman, as Daisy hesitated.\n\n\"I was in Mr. Lamb's store just now, when your little girl came to buy\nsome ham.\"\n\n\"Well!--what then?\"\n\n\"Mr. Lamb said he would not cut any, and she was obliged to go without\nit.\"\n\n\"Well, what have you to do with all that?\"\n\n\"I was sorry she was disappointed,\" said Daisy more steadily; \"and as\nMr. Lamb would not cut one for her I have brought a whole one--if you\nwill please accept it. It is at the gate, because the boy could not\nleave the horses.\"\n\nThe woman set her bread on the floor, left the oven door open, and rose\nto her feet.\n\n\"What did you tell her, Hephzibah?\" she said in a threatening voice.\n\n\"I didn't tell her nothing,\" said the girl hurriedly--\"I never spoke to\nher.\"\n\n\"How did she know what you came for?\"\n\n\"I was so near,\" said Daisy bravely, though she was afraid, \"that I\ncouldn't help hearing.\"\n\n\"Well what business was it of yourn?\" said the woman turning upon her.\n\"If we are poor, we don't throw it in anybody's face; and if you are\nrich, you may give charity to those that ask it. _We_ never asked none\nof you--and don't want it.\"\n\n\"I am not rich,\" said Daisy gently, though she coloured and her eyes\nwere full of tears;--\"I did not mean to offend you; but I thought you\nwanted the ham, and I had money enough to get it. I am very sorry you\nwon't have it.\"\n\n\"Did Mr. Lamb tell you we were beggars?\"\n\n\"No, not at all.\"\n\n\"Then what put into your head to come bringing a ham here? who told you\nto do it?\"\n\n\"Nobody told me,\" said Daisy. \"Yes there did, though. The Lord Jesus\nChrist told me to do it, ma'am.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" said the woman, suddenly sobering as if she was\nstruck.\n\n\"That's all, ma'am,\" said Daisy. \"He had given me the money to buy the\nham, and I heard that your little girl wanted it. And I remembered his\ncommandment, to do to others what I would like they should do to me--I\ndidn't mean to offend you.\"\n\n\"Well I ain't offended,\" said the woman. \"I s'pose you didn't mean no\nharm; but we have some feelings as well as other folks. Folks may work,\nand yet have feelings. And if I could work, things would be well enough;\nbut I've been sick, miss, and I can't always get work that I would like\nto do--and when I can get it, I can't always do it,\" she added with a\nsigh.\n\nDaisy wanted to go, but pity held her fast. That poor, pale, ragged\nchild, standing motionless opposite her! Daisy didn't venture to look\nmuch, but she saw her all the same.\n\n\"Please keep the ham this time!\" she broke out bravely--\"I won't bring\nanother one!\"\n\n\"Did nobody send you?\" said the woman eyeing her keenly.\n\n\"No,\" said Daisy, \"except the Lord Jesus--he sent me.\"\n\n\"You're a kind little soul!\" said the woman, \"and as good a Christian as\nmost of 'em I guess. But I won't do that. I'd die first!--unless you'll\nlet me do some work for you and make it up so.\" There was relenting in\nthe tone of these last words.\n\n\"O that will do,\" said Daisy gladly. \"Then will you let your little girl\ncome out and get the ham? because the boy cannot leave the horses. Good\nbye, Mrs. Harbonner.\"\n\n\"But stop!\" cried the woman--\"you hain't told me what I am to do for\nyou.\"\n\n\"I don't know till I get home and ask there. What would you like to do?\"\n\n\"My work is tailoring--I learnt that trade; but beggars mustn't be\nchoosers. I can do other things--plain sewing, and washing, and\ncleaning, and dairy work; anything I _can_ do.\"\n\nDaisy said she would bring her word, and at last got off; without her\nham and in glee inexpressible. \"They will have some for breakfast,\" she\nsaid to herself; for there had been something in little Hephzibah's eye\nas she received the great ham in her arms, that went through and through\nDaisy's heart and almost set her to crying. She was _very_ glad to get\naway and to be in the pony chaise again driving home, and she almost\nwondered at her own bravery in that house. She hardly knew herself; for\ntrue it was, Daisy had considered herself as doing work not of her own\nchoosing while she was there; she felt in her Master's service, and so\nwas bold where for her own cause she would have shrunk away. \"But they\nhave got something for breakfast! I think mine will be good when I get\nit,\" said Daisy.\n\nDaisy however fell into a great muse upon the course of her morning's\nexperience. To do as she would be done by, now seemed not quite so easy\nas she had thought; since it was plain that her notions and those of\nsome other people were not alike on the subject. How _should_ she know\nwhat people would like? When in so simple a matter as hunger, she found\nthat some would prefer starving to being fed. It was too deep a question\nfor Daisy. She had made a mistake, and she rather thought she should\nmake more mistakes; since the only way she could see straight before her\nwas the way of the command and the way of duty therefore; and she was\nvery much inclined to think, besides, that in that way her difficulties\nwould be taken care of for her. It had been so this morning. Mrs.\nHarbonner and she had parted on excellent terms--and the gleam in that\npoor child's eyes!--\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nDaisy was so full of her thoughts that she never perceived two gentlemen\nstanding at the foot of the hall steps to receive her. Not till Loupe in\nhis best style had trotted up the road and stopped, and she had risen to\nthrow down her reins. Then Daisy started a little. One gentleman touched\nhis cap to her, and the other held out his hands to help her to alight.\n\n\"You are just in time for breakfast, Miss Randolph. Is that the coach\nthat was made out of a pumpkin?\"\n\nDaisy shook hands with the other gentleman and made no answer.\n\n\"I had always heard,\" went on the first, \"that the young ladies at the\nNorth were very independent in their habits; but I had no idea that they\nwent to market before breakfast.\"\n\n\"Sam,\" said Daisy, \"take the baskets to Joanna.\"\n\n\"What is in the baskets?--eggs?--or butter?--or vegetables? Where do you\ngo to market?\"\n\n\"To New York, sir,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"To New York! And have you come from there this morning? Then that is\ncertainly also the pony that was once a rat! it's a witchcraft concern\naltogether.\"\n\n\"No sir,\" said Daisy, \"I don't go to market.\"\n\n\"Will you excuse me for remarking, that you just said you did?\"\n\n\"No sir,--I didn't mean that _I_ went.\"\n\n\"How are gentlemen to understand you, in the future experience of life,\nif you are in the habit of saying what you do not mean?\"\n\n\"I am not in the habit of it,\" said Daisy, half laughing, for she knew\nher questioner. He was a handsome young man, with a grave face and\nmanner through all his absurd speeches; dressed rather picturesquely;\nand altogether a striking person in Daisy's eyes. To her relief, as they\nreached the hall her mother appeared.\n\n\"Come in to breakfast, Gary--Daisy, run and get yourself ready.\"\n\nAnd Daisy went, in great glee on various accounts. When she came down,\neverybody was at table; and for a little while she was permitted to eat\nher breakfast in peace. Daisy felt wonderfully happy. Such a pleasant\nbreakfast, for the talk among the elders went on very briskly; such\npleasant work done already, such pleasant work to do all through the\nday; nothing but joy seemed to be in the air.\n\n\"And what did you get at market, Daisy?\" suddenly asked the gentleman\nwhom her mother called \"Gary.\"\n\n\"I went to buy baskets,\" said Daisy concisely.\n\n\"What else did you get at market?\"\n\n\"I didn't go to market, sir.\"\n\n\"She told me she did\"--said Mr. Gary looking at her father.\n\n\"Did you buy anything else, Daisy?\" said her father carelessly.\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy colouring, \"Mr. McFarlane asked me, I thought, where\nwe went to market, and I told him New York. I did not mean that _I_ went\nmyself.\"\n\n\"Didn't you get anything but baskets?\" said Mr. McFarlane mischievously.\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy making a brave push, \"if I only spend what you give\nme for my birthday, don't you think it would be considerate in Mr.\nMcFarlane not to ask me any more?\" But this speech set the gentlemen to\nlaughing.\n\n\"Daisy, you make me curious,\" said her father. \"Do you think it would be\ninconsiderate in _me_ to ask?\"\n\n\"Papa, I think it would.\"\n\n\"Answer, Daisy, directly, and don't be ridiculous,\" said her mother.\n\nDaisy's face clouded, coloured, and the tears came into her eyes.\n\n\"Answer, Daisy, since it is put so,\" said her father gravely.\n\n\"I bought a ham, papa.\"\n\nBut the shout that was raised at this was so uproarious that Daisy was\nalmost overcome. She would certainly have made her escape, only she knew\nsuch a thing would not be permitted. She sat still, and bore it as well\nas she could.\n\n\"The baskets held eggs, no doubt,\" said Capt. Drummond, the other\ngentleman.\n\n\"Roast potatoes would be better for your Irish friends, Daisy,\" said\nMcFarlane. \"Ham and eggs is good for the Yankees. It would be the best\nplan to make a fire out of doors and let each one cook for himself,\naccording to his country. How do you expect to please everybody?\"\n\n\"Come here, Daisy,\" said her father kindly, and he put his arm round her\nand kissed her; \"did you have money enough for your ham and your other\npurchases too?\"\n\n\"Plenty, papa,\" said Daisy gratefully.\n\n\"And why didn't you go yesterday afternoon, as I thought you intended?\"\nDaisy's and Ransom's eyes met.\n\n\"Papa, it was a great deal pleasanter this morning than it would have\nbeen then; I never had such a nice ride.\"\n\n\"And what do you want done now? Is your table ready?\"\n\n\"It will be ready--Mr. Stilton is getting it ready.\"\n\n\"Who is invited, Daisy?\" inquired Mr. McFarlane. \"Do you intend to\nreceive any except those who are not your friends?\"\n\n\"I don't think those of a different class had better come,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Daisy is quite right,\" said Mrs. Randolph. \"Do you not intend to shew\nyourself?\" said her husband, with some meaning.\n\n\"I? No! Certainly not. At her age, since you choose to indulge Daisy in\nher whim, she may do what she pleases.\"\n\nWas this what the man meant by Randolph's people being \"stuck up?\" Daisy\nlooked grave, and her father bade her run away and attend to her\npreparations.\n\nEven then she went slowly and a little puzzled, till she reached the\nhousekeeper's room; and there the full beauty of the occasion burst upon\nher. Such nice things as Joanna was making ready!\n\nDaisy ran off at full speed to Logan to get a supply of greens and\nflowers to trim her baskets. Nora was coming to help her and be with her\nall day, and arrived just in time. With aprons and baskets full, the two\nchildren sought a hidden spot on the bank under the trees, and there sat\ndown, with strawberry baskets in one heap and the sprigs and leaves to\ndress them in another.\n\n\"Now throw off your hat,\" said Daisy. \"It's shady enough, and you'll\nfeel cooler. Now Nora, how shall we do?--You try one and I'll try one;\nthat will be best; and then we can see. I want them to look very pretty,\nyou know; and they are to be filled with strawberries to send home to\nthe children; if we make them very nice they will go on the table, I\nthink, and help dress it up.\"\n\nFor a time there was comparative silence, while the little hands turned\nand twisted the mosses and bits of larch and cedar and hemlock in and\nout of the openings of the baskets. It was not found easy at first to\nproduce a good effect; hands were unused to the work; and Nora declared\nafter half an hour she believed the baskets would look best plain, just\nas they were. But Daisy would not give up. She grew very warm indeed\nwith the excitement of her efforts, but she worked on. By and by she\nsucceeded in dressing a basket so that it looked rich with green; and\nthen a bit or two of rosebuds or heath or bright yellow everlasting made\nthe adornment gay and pretty enough. It was taken for a model; and from\nthat time tongues and fingers worked together, and heat was forgotten.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Isn't this pleasant!\" exclaimed Daisy at length, dropping her work into\nher lap. \"Isn't it just as pleasant as it can be, Nora?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Nora, working away.\n\n\"Just see the river--it's so smooth. And look up into the leaves;--how\npretty they are!--and every one of them is trembling a little; not one\nof them is still, Nora. How beautiful the green is, with the sun shining\nthrough! Wouldn't you like to be a bird up there?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Nora; \"I'd rather be down here.\"\n\n\"I think it would be nice to be a bird.\" said Daisy; \"it must be\npleasant up in those branches--only the birds don't know anything, I\nsuppose. What do you think heaven must be like, Nora?\"\n\n\"Daisy, you're so funny. What makes you think about heaven?\"\n\n\"Why, you know,\" said Daisy slowly, \"I expect to go there. Why shouldn't\nI think about it?\"\n\n\"But you won't go there till you die,\" said Nora.\n\n\"I don't see what that has to do with my thinking about it. I shall die,\nsome time.\"\n\n\"Yes, but Daisy, don't be so queer. You are not going to die now.\"\n\n\"I don't know about that,\" said Daisy; \"but I like to think of heaven.\nJesus is there. Isn't it pleasant, Nora, that he can see us always, and\nknows what we are doing?\"\n\n\"Daisy, Marmaduke said he wished you would invite him to your party.\"\n\nThe turn Nora wished to give to Daisy's thoughts took effect for the\nmoment. It was grievous; to wish so much for her friend and to have him\njoin in the wish, and all in vain. But, characteristically, Daisy said\nnothing. She was only silent a moment.\n\n\"Nora, did you ever hear Mr. Dinwiddie say that poor people disliked\nrich people?\"\n\n\"No. They don't dislike _him_, I know.\"\n\n\"Is Mr. Dinwiddie rich too?\"\n\n\"Of course he is,\" said Nora.\n\n\"I shouldn't think anybody would dislike him,\" said Daisy; \"but then he\nnever seemed like rich people.\" She went into a muse about it.\n\n\"Well, he is,\" said Nora. \"He has got as much money as he wants, I\nknow.\"\n\n\"Nora, you know the parable of the servants and the talents?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Are you one of the good servants?\"\n\nNora looked up very uneasily. Daisy's face was one of quiet inquiry.\nNora fidgeted.\n\n\"Daisy, I wish you would be like yourself, as you used to be, and not\ntalk so.\"\n\n\"But are you, Nora?\"\n\n\"No, I don't suppose I am! I couldn't do much.\"\n\n\"But would you like to have the King say to you what he said to the\nservant who had one talent and didn't do anything?\"\n\n\"Daisy, I don't want to have you talk to me about it,\" said Nora, a\nlittle loftily. \"I have got Marmaduke to talk to me, and that's as much\nas I want.\"\n\n\"_I_ mean to be one of them!\" said Daisy gently. \"Jesus is the king; and\nit makes me so glad to think of it!--so glad, Nora. He is my king, and I\nbelong to him; and I _love_ to give him all I've got; and so would you,\nNora. I only want to find out all I have got, that I may give it to\nhim.\"\n\nNora went on very assiduously with the covering of the baskets, and\nDaisy presently followed her example. But the talk was checked for a\nlittle.\n\n\"Nora, Jesus is _your_ king, though,\" said Daisy again. \"He made\neverything, and he made you; and he _is_ your king. I wish you would be\nhis servant too.\"\n\nDaisy was greatly astonished at the effect of this speech; for Nora\nwithout speaking arose, left her baskets and greens on the ground, and\nset off from the spot with an air that said she did not mean to return\nto it. Daisy was too bewildered to speak, and only looked after her till\nshe was too far to be recalled.\n\nWhat was the matter? Greatly puzzled and dismayed, she tried to find a\npossible answer to this question. Left alone on her birthday in the\nmidst of her business, by her best friend,--what could have brought\nabout so untoward a combination of circumstances? Daisy could not\nunderstand it; and there was no time to go after Nora to get an\nunderstanding. The baskets must be finished. Luckily there did not much\nremain to be done, for Daisy was tired. As soon as her work was out of\nher hand, she went to see about the success of her table. It was done; a\nnice long, neat table of boards, on trestles; and it was fixed under a\nbeautiful grove of trees, on the edge of a bank from which the view over\nthe grounds was charming. Mr. Stilton was just gathering up his tools to\ngo away, and looked himself so smiling and bright that Daisy concluded\nthere was reason to hope her party was going to be all right; so with\nfresh spirit she went in to her own dinner.\n\nAfter that it was busy times. The long table was to be spread with a\ntable-cloth, and then the cups and plates in proper number and position,\nleaving the places for the baskets of strawberries. It was a grave\nquestion whether they should be arranged in a pyramid, with roses\nfilling the spaces, or be distributed all round the table. Daisy and\nJoanna debated the matter, and decided finally on the simpler manner;\nand Logan dressed some splendid bouquets for the centre of the table\ninstead. Daisy saw that the maids were bringing from the house pretty\nchina dishes and cups; and then she ran away to get dressed herself.\nJust as this was almost done she saw her mother driving off from the\nhouse with several gentlemen in her party. It suddenly struck Daisy, who\nwas to do the honours of the strawberry feast? She ran down stairs to\nfind her father; she could not find him, he was out; so Daisy went to\nsee that the setting the table was going on all right, and then came and\nplanted herself in the library, to wait for Mr. Randolph's coming in.\nAnd while she waited eagerly, she began to think about its being her\nbirthday.\n\n\"Nine years old,\" thought Daisy; \"there isn't much of my life passed.\nPerhaps, if I live a good while, I may do a great deal to serve the\nLord. I wonder if I know all the things I can do now! all my 'talents'?\nI am afraid of missing some of them, for not knowing. Everything I\nhave, Mr. Dinwiddie said,--so Nora said,--is a talent of some sort or\nother. How strange Nora was to-day! But I suppose she will come and tell\nme what was the matter. Now about the talents--I wish papa would come!\nThis birthday was one talent, and I thought it would be a good thing if\npapa's people could be made to know that he is not 'stuck up,' if he is\nrich,--but if neither he nor mamma come out to speak to them at all, I\nwonder what they will think?\"\n\nDaisy ran out again to view the table. Yes, it was looking very\nhandsome. Joanna was there herself, ordering and directing; and china\nand glass, and flowers, and silver, made a very brilliant appearance,\nthough none of the dishes were on the table as yet.\n\n\"But who is going to pour out the coffee and the tea, Joanna?\" said\nDaisy. \"Aren't you going to dress and come and do it for me?\"\n\n\"La! Miss Daisy, I don't see how I can. I expect the best plan will be\nto have you do it yourself. That will give the most satisfaction, I\nguess.\"\n\n\"Joanna! I don't know how.\"\n\n\"Yes, you do, Miss Daisy; you'll have the coffee urn, and all you have\nto do is to turn the faucet, you know; and Sam will wait upon you, and\nif you want tea poured out he can lift it for you. It'll taste twice as\ngood to all the party if you do it.\"\n\n\"Do you think so, Joanna?\"\n\n\"I don't want to think about it,\" said Joanna; \"I know without\nthinking.\"\n\n\"But, Joanna, I can't reach the things.\"\n\n\"I'll have a high seat fixed for you. I know what you want.\"\n\nDaisy stood watching; it was such a pleasure to see Joanna's nice\npreparations. And now came on the great dishes of strawberries, rich and\nsweet to the eye and the smell; and then handsome pitchers filled with\nmilk and ice-water, in a range down the table. Then came great fruit\ncakes and pound cakes, superbly frosted and dressed with strawberries\nand rosebuds; Joanna had spared no pains. Great store of sliced bread\nand butter too, and plates of ham and cold beef, and forms of jelly. And\nwhen the dressed baskets of strawberries were set in their places all\nround the table, filling up the spaces, there was a very elegant,\nflowery, and sparkling appearance of a rich feast. Why was not Nora\nthere?--and with the next thought Daisy flew back to the library to find\nher father. He was found.\n\n\"Oh papa,\" she said gently, though she had rushed in like a little\nsummer wind, \"are you going to come to the feast?\"\n\n\"What for, my dear?\"\n\n\"Papa, they will all like it; they will be pleased.\"\n\n\"I think they will enjoy themselves better without me.\"\n\n\"Papa, I am _sure_ they would be pleased.\"\n\n\"I should only make it a constraint for them, Daisy. I do not think they\nwill want anything but the strawberries--especially if _you_ look at\nthem.\"\n\n\"But mamma is not here to speak to them either, papa.\"\n\n\"You think somebody must speak to them, eh? I don't think I can make\nspeeches, Daisy,\" said Mr. Randolph, stretching himself at ease in a\nchaise longue. \"But perhaps I may step down and look at them by and by,\nmy dear.\"\n\nThere was no more to be done, Daisy knew. She went slowly off over the\ngrounds, meditating whether the people would be satisfied with so very\nat-arms'-length an entertainment. Would _this_ draw the poor nearer to\nthe rich? or the rich nearer to the poor? Daisy had an instinctive,\ndelicate sense of the want, which she set herself to do the best her\nlittle self could to supply. \"Whatsoever ye would that men should do to\nyou\"--that sweet and most perfect rule of high breeding was moving her\nnow; and already the spirit of another rule, which in words she did not\nyet know, was beginning to possess her heart in its young discipleship;\nshe was ready \"to do good to all men, even as she had opportunity.\"\n\nShe went slowly back to the table. Nobody come yet. Joanna was there,\nputting some last touches. Suddenly a new idea struck Daisy, as she saw\nwhat a long table it was.\n\n\"Joanna--there must be somebody else to wait. Sam can never do it all.\"\n\n\"He'll have to. James is busy, and Hiram. Sam's all that can be spared;\nand that's as much as ever.\"\n\n\"But I must have more, Joanna. Can't some of the maids come?\"\n\n\"To wait?--they wouldn't, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"Yes they would, Joanna. You must make them, Joanna. Send Maria and\nOphelia down here, and I'll tell them what I want of them. And quick,\nJoanna; and don't you tell them, please, what I want.\"\n\n\"I hope you'll grow up to marry the President, some day,\" said Joanna,\nwalking off; \"you could help him if he got puzzled!\"\n\nPoor Daisy almost felt as if she had the affairs of a nation on her\nhands, when she saw Mr. and Mrs. Stilton, dressed in their best, coming\nnear through the trees. But the spirit of kindness was so thoroughly at\nwork in Daisy, that it made her reception of her guests just what it\nought to be, and she was delighted a few minutes after to see that their\neyes were kindling with gratification. Logan looked at the table as if\nhe had some right to take an interest in it; the hay-makers were\nopen-mouthed; the women in a flutter of ribands and propriety; and the\nvarious people who had come upon the ground with doubtful expectancy,\nsat down to table proud and gay. It was a pretty sight! and prettier was\nthe sight of little Daisy perched up at one end of the board and with\ntremulous fingers filling cups of coffee and ordering cups of tea.\n\n\"Miss Daisy,\" said Mrs. Stilton, \"it's too much trouble for you to fill\nall them cups--sha'n't I come there, and take the responsibility? if you\nwould delegate me.\"\n\nGladly Daisy agreed, slipped off her high chair, and saw Mrs. Stilton's\nfull portly figure take the place. But Daisy's labours were not ended.\nShe saw one of the Irish labourers sitting with his eyes straight before\nhim and nothing on his plate for them to look at. Daisy went round. It\nwas her feast; she felt she must do the honours.\n\n\"Will you have a cup of coffee?\" said a soft little voice at the man's\nelbow. He started.\n\n\"Ach!--Sure Miss, I wouldn't be troublesome.\"\n\n\"It's no trouble. Will you have some tea or some coffee?\"\n\n\"'Dade, sorrow a drop ever I tuk of ary one of 'em but the one time,\nplase yer ladyship. It's too good for me, sure; that's why it don't\nagree wid me, Miss.\"\n\nVery much puzzled by the confidential little nod with which this\ninformation was communicated, Daisy yet felt she could not give up the\nmatter.\n\n\"Then what will you have?--some ham? or some strawberries?\"\n\n\"Sure I'll do very well, niver fear, plase yer ladyship; don't trouble\nyerself. The angels wouldn't want something purtier to eat, than what we\nhave, Miss!\"\n\nDaisy gave up in despair and charged Sam to see that the man had his\nsupper. Then without asking any more questions she carried a cup of\ncoffee down the table to a meek-looking old woman who likewise seemed to\nbe in a state of bewilderment. It was the mother of Michael the\ngate-keeper. She started a little too, as Daisy's hand set down her cup,\nand half rose from her chair.\n\n\"Blessings on ye, for a dear little lady! It's a wonder to see the\nlikes of you. The saints above bless the hand and the fut that wasn't\nabove doing that same! and may ye always have plenty to wait on ye, and\nthe angels of heaven above all!\"\n\n\"Sit down, Mrs. Sullivan,\" said Daisy. \"Do you like coffee?\"\n\n\"Do I like it! It's better to me nor anything else in the worruld, when\nit wouldn't be a sup o' summat now and thin, if I'd have the rheumatiz.\"\n\n\"A sup of what?\"\n\n\"Medicine, dear, medicine that I take whin the doctor says it's good for\nme. May you niver know the want of it, nor of anything in the wide\nworruld! and niver know what it is to be poor!\"\n\nDaisy managed to get the old woman to eat, supplying her with various\nthings, every one of which was accepted with--\"Thank you, Miss,\" and\n\"Blessings on ye!\" and turning away from her at last, saw her handmaids\napproaching from the house. The girls, however disposed to stand upon\ntheir dignity, could not refuse to do what their little mistress was\ndoing; and a lively time of it they and Daisy had for the next hour,\nwith all the help Sam and Mrs. Stilton could give them. Daisy saw that\nstrawberries and cream, cake and coffee, were thoroughly enjoyed; she\nsaw too that the honour of being served off silver and china was duly\nfelt. If her father had but come out to say a kind word! but he did not\ncome. His little substitute did all a substitute could do; and at last\nwhen everybody seemed in full tide of merry-making, she stole away that\nthey might have no constraint upon it. Before she had got far, she was\nstartled by a noise behind her, and looking round saw that all the\ntableful had risen to their feet. The next instant there was a great\nshout. Daisy could not imagine what they were doing, but she saw that\nthey were all looking at her. She came back a step or two. Now there was\nanother shout greater than the other; the women flourished\nhandkerchiefs, the men waved their arms above their heads. \"Long life to\nye!\" \"Good luck to ye forever!\" \"Blessings on ye for a lady!\" \"Many\nthanks to ye, Miss Daisy!\" \"May ye niver want as good!\" \"Hurra for the\nflower of Melbourne!\"--Shouts various and confused at last made Daisy\ncomprehend they were cheering _her_. So she gave them a little courtesy\nor two, and walked off again as fast as she thought it was proper to go.\n\nShe went home and to the library, but found nobody there; and sat down\nto breathe and rest; she was tired. Presently Ransom came in.\n\n\"Hallo, Daisy!--is nobody here?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Have you seen your things yet?\"\n\n\"My things?--what things?\"\n\n\"Why your _things_--your birthday things. Of course you haven't or you'd\nknow. Never mind, you'll know what I mean by and by. I say, Daisy----\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You know when papa asked you this morning why you didn't go yesterday\nto Crum Elbow?----\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you tell him?\"\n\nDaisy hesitated. Ransom was cutting a pencil vigorously, but as she was\nsilent he looked up.\n\n\"Why didn't you tell him? did you tell him _afterwards_?\"\n\n\"Why no, Ransom!\"\n\n\"Well why didn't you?--that's what I want to know. Didn't you tell\nanybody?\"\n\n\"No, of course not.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you, then?\"\n\n\"Ransom----\" said Daisy doubtfully.\n\n\"What? I think you're turned queer.\"\n\n\"I don't know whether you'd understand me.\"\n\n\"Understand _you_! That's a good one! I couldn't understand _you_! I\nshould rather like to have you try.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll tell you,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Just do.\"\n\n\"Ransom, you know who the Lord Jesus Christ is.\"\n\n\"I used to; but I have forgotten.\"\n\n\"Oh Ransom!\"\n\n\"Come, go ahead, and don't palaver.\"\n\n\"I am his servant,\" said Daisy; \"and he has bid me do to other people\nwhat I would like to have them do to me.\"\n\n\"He has bid you! What do you mean?\"\n\n\"You know what I mean. It is in the Bible.\"\n\n\"What's in the Bible?\"\n\n\"_That_;--that I must do to other people what I would like to have them\ndo to me.\"\n\n\"And I suppose you thought I wouldn't like to have you tell? Well you're\nout, for I don't care a shot about it--there! and you may tell just as\nfast as you're a mind to.\"\n\n\"Oh Ransom! you know--\"\n\n\"What do I know?\"\n\n\"It's no matter,\" said little Daisy checking herself.\n\n\"Go ahead, and finish! What is the use of breaking off? That's the way\nwith girls;--they don't know how to speak English. You may just as well\nsay the whole of something ugly, as the half of it.\"\n\nIf Daisy was tempted to comply with the request, she did not give way to\nthe temptation; for she was silent; and in a mood less pleasant than her\nown apparently, Ransom took himself out of her presence. Left alone,\nDaisy presently curled herself down on a couch, and being very tired\nfell asleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nDaisy slept on, until a bustle and sounds of voices and laughter in the\nhall, and boots clattering over the marble and up the staircase, at last\nfound their way into her ears.\n\nThe riding party had got home. Daisy sat up and rubbed her eyes and\nlooked out.\n\nThe sun was low, and shining from the western mountains over the tops of\nall the trees. It was certainly near dinner-time; the cool glittering\nlook of the light on the trees and shrubs could not be earlier than\nthat. What had become of the strawberry feast? It seemed like a dream.\nDaisy shook off the remains of her sleep and hurried out by one of the\nglass doors to go and see. She ran down to the bank where the table was\nspread. It was a feast over. The company were gone, so were the baskets\nof strawberries; yes, and the very bouquets of flowers had been taken\naway. That was a sign of pleasure. Nothing was left but the disordered\ntable. Daisy hoped the people had had a good time, and slowly went back\ntowards the house. As she came near the library window she saw her\nfather, standing in it.\n\n\"Well, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Well, papa.\"\n\n\"How has the feast gone off?\"\n\n\"I don't know, papa. There's nothing left but the boards and the cups\nand saucers.\"\n\nMr. Randolph sat down and drew his little daughter up to his side.\n\n\"Have you enjoyed it, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa--I have enjoyed it pretty well.\"\n\n\"Only pretty well!--for your birthday! Do you think now you made a good\nchoice, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir--I think I did.\"\n\n\"What has been wanting? I am afraid your ham did not figure on the\nboard, if it is so empty?\"\n\nDaisy did not answer, but her father watching her saw something in her\nface which made him pursue the subject.\n\n\"Did it?\"\n\n\"No, papa,\" said Daisy, colouring a little.\n\n\"How was that?\"\n\n\"Joanna arranged everything that was to go on the table.\"\n\n\"And left the ham out of the question? It seems to me that was a\nmistake, though I am not much of a housekeeper. Why was that?\"\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy, \"do you think I would make a wrong use of a ham?\"\n\nMr. Randolph laughed. \"Why Daisy, unless you are a finished economist,\nthat might be. Do you mean that I am not to know the particular use made\nof this ham?\"\n\n\"Papa, I wish you would not desire to know!\"\n\nBut Daisy's face was too much in earnest. \"I think I cannot grant that\nrequest,\" said her father. \"You must tell me.\"\n\nDaisy looked distressed. But she dared not evade the order, though she\nfeared very much what might come of it.\n\n\"I didn't buy the ham for the party, papa.\"\n\n\"Then for what?\"\n\n\"I bought it, papa, for a little girl who was going without her\nbreakfast. She came to Mr. Lamb's to buy ham, and she had no money, and\nhe wouldn't let her have any.\"\n\n\"And what became of your baskets?\"\n\n\"O I got them, papa; I got cheaper ones; and Nora and I dressed them\nwith greens. I had money enough.\"\n\nMr. Randolph took his little daughter on his knee and softly put down\nhis lips to kiss her.\n\n\"But Daisy, after all, why did you not go to Crum Elbow yesterday\nafternoon, as you meant to do?\"\n\n\"Papa, this morning did better, for it was pleasanter.\"\n\n\"Do you call that an answer?\" said Mr. Randolph, who was still softly\nkissing her.\n\n\"Papa, if you would be so _very_ good as not to ask me that?\"\n\n\"I am not good at all, Daisy. I ask,--and I mean to know.\"\n\nDaisy was in trouble. No entreaty was worth a straw after that. She was\npuzzled how to answer.\n\n\"Papa,\" she ventured, \"I don't like to tell you, because Ransom would\nnot like I should.\"\n\n\"Ransom's pleasure must give way to mine, Daisy.\"\n\n\"He wanted the pony-chaise,\" said Daisy, looking very downcast.\n\n\"And you gave it him?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"What then? Daisy,\" said Mr. Randolph bringing her head round to face\nhim, \"tell me what I want to know without any more questions.\"\n\n\"He took the chaise, papa,--that was all,--so I went this morning.\"\n\n\"Ransom knew you wanted it?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Then Daisy, tell me further, why you did not give me this information\nwhen I asked about your drive this morning at breakfast?\"\n\n\"Papa, I thought Ransom would not like to have it told.\"\n\n\"Were you afraid he would revenge himself in any way if you did?\"\n\n\"O no, papa! not at all.\"\n\n\"Then what moved you to silence?\"\n\n\"Why papa, I did not want to trouble Ransom. I was afraid you would be\ndispleased with him perhaps, if I told.\"\n\n\"Were you not displeased when he took the chaise?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa,\" said Daisy softly.\n\n\"And had your displeasure all gone off by this morning?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nMr. Randolph was not quite satisfied. There was no doubting Daisy; but\nhe had reasons of his own for knowing that she had not said to him quite\nall that she had confessed to her brother. He would have liked the whole\nconfession; but did not see how he could get at it just now. He took a\nlittle gold piece out of his pocket and quietly slipped it into Daisy's\nhand.\n\n\"Papa! what is this for?\"\n\n\"For your poor woman, if you like. You can send it to her by Sam.\"\n\n\"O thank you, papa! But papa, she won't take it so--she will not take\nthe least thing without working to pay for it.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"She told me so, papa.\"\n\n\"Who told you so?\"\n\n\"The poor woman--Mrs. Harbonner.\"\n\n\"Where did you see her?\"\n\n\"I saw her at her house, papa.\"\n\n\"Why did you go to her house?\"\n\n\"To take her the ham, sir.\"\n\n\"And she told you she wouldn't have anything without doing work for\nit--eh?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa--she wouldn't even take the ham any other way.\"\n\n\"What work did you engage her to do, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I thought Joanna could find her some, papa.\"\n\n\"Well, let Joanna manage it. You must not go there again, nor into any\nstrange house, Daisy, without my leave. Now go and get ready for dinner,\nand _your_ part of your birthday.\"\n\nDaisy went very soberly. To see Mrs. Harbonner and her daughter again,\nand to do them all sorts of good, had been a dream of hers, ever since\nthe morning. Now this was shut off. She was very sorry. How were the\nrich to do good to the poor, if they never come together? A question\nwhich Daisy thought about while she was dressing. Then she doubted how\nher feast had gone; and she had been obliged to tell of Ransom.\nAltogether, Daisy felt that doing good was a somewhat difficult matter,\nand she let June dress her in very sober silence. Daisy was elegantly\ndressed for her birthday and the dinner. Her robe was a fine beautifully\nembroidered muslin, looped with rose ribands on the shoulder and tied\nwith a broad rose-coloured sash round the waist. There was very little\nrose in Daisy's cheeks, however; and June stood and looked at her when\nshe had done, with mingled satisfaction and dissatisfaction.\n\n\"You've tired yourself to-day, Miss Daisy, with making that party for\nthe men!\" she said.\n\n\"Have you done? Now June, will you go away, please, and leave me my room\nfor a few minutes?\"\n\n\"Yes, Miss Daisy--but it's most time for you to go down.\"\n\nJune went, and Daisy locked her doors, and dropped on her knees by her\nlittle bed. How was she to know what was right to do? and still more,\nhow was she to do it wisely and faithfully? Little Daisy went to her\nstronghold, and asked for help; and that she might know what her talents\nwere.\n\n\"Miss Daisy,\" said the voice of June at the door, \"you are wanted in the\nlibrary.\"\n\nDown went Daisy in a hurry. There was her father; and there also, to\nher great surprise, were Nora and Mr. Dinwiddie!\n\n\"I have brought Nora to make her peace with you, Daisy,\" said Mr.\nDinwiddie. \"I found her in great trouble because, she said, you were\noffended with her. Will you love her again?\"\n\nDaisy put her arms round Nora, who looked a little ashamed, and gave her\na very peaceful and reassuring kiss. The gentlemen both smiled at her\naction. It was too graceful to need the aid of words.\n\n\"My mission is successful,\" said Mr. Dinwiddie.\n\n\"But I was not offended the least bit, Mr. Dinwiddie,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I believe it; but Nora thought you had so much reason, that she would\nnot come alone to make her apology.\"\n\nThe young man looked towards Mr. Randolph, whose attention was just then\ntaken by somebody who had come to him on business. He waited.\n\n\"Won't you sit down, Mr. Dinwiddie?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I must go.\"\n\n\"But I want to ask you a question, sir.\"\n\nMr. Dinwiddie sat down.\n\n\"Mr. Dinwiddie,\" said Daisy with a grave face, \"what are my talents?\"\n\n\"What is the question, Daisy? I do not understand.\"\n\n\"You know, sir--one servant had ten and another had five. What are my\ntalents?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\n\"But how can I tell, Mr. Dinwiddie?\"\n\nThen the young man's eyes glowed, as Daisy had a few times seen them do\nbefore. \"Ask the Lord, Daisy. See what his word tells you to do.\"\n\n\"But Mr. Dinwiddie, I am little; I can't do much.\"\n\n\"_You_ cannot do anything. But Jesus can use you, to do what he\npleases,--if you will be his little servant.--Give me that spoon,\nNora.\"\n\n\"But Marmaduke----\"\n\n\"Yes--I know,\" said her brother. He took from Nora's hand and unfolded\nfrom its wrapping-paper a very curious thing, which he told Daisy was an\nEgyptian spoon. He did not give her time to look at it, only he held it\nso that she saw what it was.\n\n\"You see that spoon, Daisy. It cannot do anything. But in your hand it\nmight carry drops of comfort to somebody's lips.\"\n\nDaisy looked earnestly at the spoon, then at the bright eyes that were\nfixed on her; and taking his meaning, she smiled, a bright, satisfied\nsmile. It satisfied Mr. Dinwiddie too. He wrapped up the spoon again,\nhanded it to Nora, and rose up to make his adieus to Mr. Randolph.\n\n\"Daisy,\" whispered Nora, \"this spoon is for you. Will you take it for my\nbirthday present? Marmaduke says it is very handsome. It is his--he gave\nit to me to give to you.\"\n\n\"It is very, very old,\" said Mr. Dinwiddie coming to Daisy. \"It was\nfound in an old Egyptian tomb, and was made and put there perhaps before\nthe Israelites came out of Egypt. Good bye!\"\n\nHe took Daisy's hand with a strong, kindly grasp, and went away with his\nlittle sister just as the dinner-bell rang. Daisy had not time to look\nat her present. She held it tight, and went in to dinner with it in her\nhand.\n\nDaisy did not generally dine with her father and mother. To-day was a\ngreat exception to the rule. Even to-day she was not expected to eat\nanything till the dessert came on; she had had her dinner; so she had\nthe more time for other things. Her place was by her mother; Capt.\nDrummond on the other side, and Gary McFarlane opposite. Then her aunt,\nMrs. Gary, had arrived, just an hour before dinner; and she and her\nchildren and one or two other friends filled the table, and the talking\nand laughing went round faster than the soup. Daisy looked and\nlistened, very much pleased to see her aunt and cousins, and amused;\nthough as usual in her quiet fashion she gave no sign of it.\n\n\"How did that party come off, Daisy?\" said Mr. Gary McFarlane.\n\n\"What party?\" said Mrs. Gary.\n\n\"Daisy's birthday entertainment.\"\n\n\"Daisy invited all the gardeners and hay-makers to take supper and\nstrawberries with her, Aunt Gary,\" said Ransom.\n\n\"What is that?\" said Mrs. Gary, looking to her sister.\n\n\"Ransom has stated the matter correctly.\"\n\n\"Gardeners and hay-makers! What was that for, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I thought it would give them pleasure, aunt Gary,--\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Give _them_ pleasure! of course, I suppose it would; but are we to give\neverybody pleasure that we can? At that rate, why not invite our footmen\nand chambermaids too? Why stop?\"\n\n\"I suppose that will be the next thing,\" said Mrs. Randolph. \"Daisy, you\nmust not eat that cheese.\"\n\n\"What's Daisy's notion?\" said Mrs. Gary, appealing to her\nbrother-in-law.\n\n\"A child's notion,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"The worst you can say of it is,\nthat it is Arcadian.\"\n\n\"How did it go off, Daisy?\" said Gary McFarlane.\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Daisy. \"I think it went off pretty well.\"\n\n\"How did the hob-nails behave themselves?\"\n\n\"They had lots of things to eat,\" said Ransom. \"I don't believe we shall\nhave any strawberries for a day or two ourselves.\"\n\n\"Did you give them strawberries?\" said Mrs. Gary.\n\n\"A tableful,\" said Ransom; \"and baskets and baskets to take home.\"\n\n\"Something new,--\" said Mrs. Gary, eating her salad.\n\n\"But how did the company behave?\" said Mr. McFarlane.\n\n\"I saw no behaviour that was not proper,\" Daisy answered gravely. She\nthought as much could not be said of the present company, seeing that\nservants were present.\n\n\"What have you there, Daisy?\" said her mother.\n\n\"It is a birthday present, mamma. It is an Egyptian spoon.\"\n\n\"An Egyptian spoon! Where did you get it?\"\n\n\"Mr. Dinwiddie--I mean, Nora gave it to me.\"\n\n\"What about Mr. Dinwiddie?\"\n\n\"Nothing, mamma.\"\n\n\"Then why did you speak his name?\"\n\n\"I don't know. He brought Nora to see me just now.\"\n\n\"Where did you see him?\"\n\n\"In the library.\"\n\n\"Mr. Randolph\"--said the lady--\"did Mr. Dinwiddie call to see you?\"\n\n\"He did me that honour,\" said Mr. Randolph; \"but I think primarily his\nvisit was to Daisy.\"\n\n\"Who is Mr. Dinwiddie?\" said Mrs. Gary, seeing a contraction in her\nsister's brow. \"It's a Virginian name.\"\n\n\"He is a fanatic,\" said Mrs. Randolph. \"I don't know what else he is.\"\n\n\"Let us see the fanatic's spoon,\" said Gary McFarlane. \"Egyptian, is it,\nDaisy? Curious, upon my word!\"\n\n\"Beautiful!\" said Capt. Drummond, taking the spoon in his turn across\nthe table. \"Beautiful! This is a nice piece of carving--and very old it\nundoubtedly is. This is the lotus, Daisy--this stem part of the spoon;\nand do you see, in the bowl here is the carving of a lake, with fish in\nit?\"\n\n\"Is it?\" said Daisy; \"and what is a _lotus_, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"If you will put me in mind to-morrow, privately, I will tell you about\nit,\" said he.\n\n\"Let me look at that, Capt. Drummond,\" said Mrs. Gary.--\"Why, here's a\nduck's head at the end of the handle. What a dear old thing! Who is this\nMr. Dinwiddie, pray?\"\n\n\"The duck's bill makes the spoon, aunt Gary,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"If you asked me _what_ he is, I have told you,\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"He is a young man, of good family I believe, spending the summer with a\nneighbour of ours who is his relation,\" Mr. Randolph answered.\n\n\"What is he a fanatic about?\"\n\nThis question did not get an immediate answer; the conversation\ndiverged, and it was lost. Daisy's spoon made the round of the company.\nIt was greatly admired, both from its oddness and from the beauty of its\ncarving.\n\n\"Daisy, I will buy this spoon of you,\" said her aunt.\n\nDaisy thought not; but she said, \"With what, aunt Gary?\"\n\n\"With anything you please. Do you set a high value on it? What is it\nworth?\"\n\nDaisy hesitated; and then she said, \"I think it is worth my regard, aunt\nGary!\"\n\nShe could not guess why there was a general little laugh round the table\nat this speech.\n\n\"Daisy, you are an original,\" said Mrs. Gary. \"May I ask, why this piece\nof old Egypt deserves your regard?\"\n\n\"I think anything does, aunt Gary, that is a gift,\" Daisy said, a little\nshyly.\n\n\"If your first speech sounded forty years old, your second does not,\"\nsaid the lady.\n\n\"Arcadian again, both of them,\" Mr. Randolph remarked.\n\n\"You always take Daisy's part,\" said the lady briskly. But Mr. Randolph\nlet the assertion drop.\n\n\"Mamma,\" said Daisy, \"what is an original?\"\n\n\"Something your aunt says you are. Do you like some of this _biscuit_,\nDaisy?\"\n\n\"If you please, mamma. And mamma, what do you mean by a fanatic?\"\n\n\"Something that I will not have you,\" said her mother, with knitting\nbrow again.\n\nDaisy slowly eat her biscuit-glac\u00e9 and wondered. Wondered what it could\nbe that Mr. Dinwiddie was and that her mother was determined she should\nnot be.\n\nMr. Dinwiddie was a friend of poor people--was that what her mother\nmeant? He was a devoted, unflinching servant of Christ;--\"so will I be,\"\nsaid Daisy to herself; \"so I am now; for I have given the Lord Jesus all\nI have got, and I don't want to take anything back. Is that what mamma\ncalls being a fanatic?\"--Daisy's meditations were broken off; for a\ngeneral stir round the table made her look up.\n\nThe table was cleared, and the servants were bringing on the fruit; and\nwith the fruit they were setting on the table a beautiful old fashioned\nsilver \u00e9pergne, that was never used but for great occasions. Generally\nit was adorned with fruit and flowers; to-day it was empty, and the\nattendants proceeded to arrange upon it very strange looking things;\npackages in white paper, books, trinkets, what not; and in the middle of\nall a little statuette of a Grecian nymph, which was a great favourite\nof Daisy's. Daisy began to guess that the \u00e9pergne had something to do\nwith her birthday. But the nymph?--perhaps she came there by her beauty\nto dignify this use made of the stately old thing. However, she forgot\nall about fanatics and Mr. Dinwiddie for the present. The looks and\nsmiles of the company were unmistakable. Who would speak first?\n\n\"How are you to reach the \u00e9pergne, Daisy?\" said her father.\n\n\"Shall I be the medium?\" said Mrs. Gary. \"These things are to travel up\nto Daisy, I suppose.\"\n\n\"I will represent the rolling stock of this road, and undertake to carry\nparcels safely,\" said Mr. McFarlane. \"Any message with the goods, Mrs.\nGary?\"\n\n\"I believe they carry their own message with them,\" said the lady;--\"or\nelse I don't see what is the use of these little white tickets. Where\nshall I begin, Mr. Randolph?\"\n\n\"I do not think the order of proceedings will be criticised, provided it\ndoes not delay,\" said Daisy's father.\n\n\"Then transmit this, Gary.\"\n\n\"Literary freight\"--said Gary McFarlane, handing over to Daisy a little\nparcel of books. Five or six little volumes, in pretty binding--Daisy\nlooked eagerly to see what they might be. \"Marmion\"--\"The Lady of the\nLake\"--Scott's Poetical Works.\n\n\"O thank you, papa!\" said Daisy, looking delighted.\n\n\"Not me,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"I am not to be thanked.\"\n\n\"There's no name in them--\" said Daisy.\n\n\"That's Preston's gift,\" said her aunt. Preston was Daisy's oldest\ncousin; a fine boy of sixteen.\n\n\"I like it so much, Preston!\" said Daisy, sending a grateful look down\nthe table to where he sat.\n\n\"Is Daisy fond of poetry?\" inquired Mr. McFarlane with a grave look.\n\n\"Very fond,\" Mrs. Randolph said.\n\n\"Dangerous taste!\" said Gary. \"What is this new consignment?\"\n\n\"Something valuable--take care of it.\"\n\n\"To be taken with care--right side up,\" said Gary, putting before Daisy\nby a stretch of his long arm a little paper covered package. Daisy's\ncheeks were beginning to grow pink. She unfolded the package.\n\nA little box--then white cotton--then a gold bracelet.\n\n\"Mamma?--\" said Daisy instantly. Mrs. Randolph stooped and kissed her.\n\n\"It's beautiful, mamma!\" Daisy spoke very earnestly; however her face\ndid not shew the light of pleasure which the first gift had called into\nit.\n\n\"How did you know so well?\" said Mr. McFarlane. \"Mrs. Randolph, I am\nafraid you are not literary. Now Daisy, exercise your discernment upon\nthat.\"\n\nIt was a little box containing a Chinese puzzle, with the plans and keys\nbelonging to it.\n\n\"Where do you think _that_ comes from?\"\n\nDaisy looked up. \"I think--perhaps--from _you_, Mr. McFarlane.\"\n\n\"Do you think I am anything like a puzzle?\"\n\n\"I think--perhaps--you mean to be,\"--Daisy said innocently. But a shout\nfrom the whole tableful answered to this chance hit. Daisy didn't know\nwhat they could mean.\n\n\"I have done!\" said Gary. \"I have got more than my match. But I know who\nwill plague people worse than a puzzle, if she gets well educated.\nThere's a pair of gloves, you little fencer.\"\n\nIt was a nice little thick pair of riding or driving gloves; beautifully\nmade and ornamented. These came from Elo\u00efse, Daisy's other cousin. Mrs.\nGary had brought her two beautiful toilet bottles of Bohemian glass.\nDaisy's end of the table was growing full.\n\n\"What is this?\" said Mrs. Gary, taking from the \u00e9pergne a sealed note\ndirected to Daisy.\n\n\"That is Ransom's present. Give her mine first,\" said Mr. Randolph.\n\n\"Which is yours? I don't see anything more.\"\n\n\"That little Proserpine in the middle.\"\n\n\"_This_? Are you going to give this to Daisy? But why is she called\nProserpine? I don't see.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Mr. Randolph, \"only that everything must have a name. And\nthis damsel is supposed to have been carrying a basket, which might\neasily have been a basket of flowers, I don't see how the statement\ncould be disproved. And Daisy is fonder of the little nymph, I believe,\nthan any one else in the house.\"\n\n\"O papa! thank you,\" exclaimed Daisy, whose eyes sparkled. \"I like to\nhave her _very_ much!\"\n\n\"Well, here she goes,\" said Mrs. Gary. \"Hand her over. You have a\nvariety, Daisy. Chinese playthings and Grecian art.\"\n\n\"_Some_ modern luxury,\" said Gary McFarlane. \"Just a little.\"\n\n\"Egyptian art, too,\" said Capt. Drummond.\n\n\"O where's my spoon?\" cried Daisy. \"Has papa got it?\"\n\n\"Here is Ransom's present,\" said her aunt, handing the note. \"Nobody\nknows what it is. Are we to know?\"\n\nDaisy opened and read, read over again, looked very grave, and finally\nfolded the note up in silence.\n\n\"What is it?\" said her aunt.\n\nDaisy hesitated, wishing, but in doubt if she would be permitted to keep\nit to herself. Her father answered for her.\n\n\"It is all of Ransom's part, share, and possession in a certain small\nequipage known about these premises; the intent and understanding being,\nthat henceforth the pony carriage and pony are Daisy's sole property,\nand to be by her used and appropriated without any other person's\ninterference whatever.\"\n\n\"But, papa--\" Ransom began.\n\n\"I think it is a very poor arrangement, Mr. Randolph,\" said Ransom's\nmother. \"Daisy cannot use the pony half enough for his good.\"\n\n\"She will make more use of him now,\" said Mr. Randolph.\n\nRansom looked very glum. His mother rose, with the ladies, and went to\nthe drawing-room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nA day or two after the birthday, it happened that Capt. Drummond was\nenjoying the sunshine in a way that gentlemen like to enjoy it; that is,\nhe was stretched comfortably on the grass under the shade of some elm\ntrees, looking at it. Perhaps it was not exactly the sunshine that he\nwas enjoying, but the soft couch of short grass, and the luxurious warm\nshadow of the elms, and a little fanciful breeze which played and\nstopped playing, and set the elm trees all a flutter and let them be\nstill, by turns. But Capt. Drummond was having a good time there, all by\nhimself, and lying at length in a most lazy luxurious fashion; when he\nsuddenly was \"ware\" of a fold of white drapery somewhere not very far\nfrom his left ear. He raised himself a little up, and there to be sure,\nas he had guessed, was Daisy. She was all alone too, and standing there\nlooking at him.\n\nNow Capt. Drummond was a great favourite of Daisy's. In the first place\nhe was a handsome fellow, with a face which was both gentle and manly;\nand his curly light-brown hair and his slight well-trimmed moustache set\noff features that were pleasant for man or woman to look upon. Perhaps\nDaisy liked him partly for this, but I think she had other reasons. At\nany rate, there she stood looking at him.\n\n\"Can you command me, Daisy?\" said the young officer.\n\n\"Are you at leisure, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Looks like it!\" said the gentleman rousing himself. \"What shall I give\nyou? a camp-chair? or will you take the--O! that is a better\narrangement.\"\n\nFor Daisy had thrown on the ground a soft shawl for a carpet, and took\nher place upon it beside Capt. Drummond, who looked at her in a pleased\nkind of way.\n\n\"Are you quite at leisure, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Gentlemen always are--when ladies' affairs are to be attended to.\"\n\n\"Are they?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"They ought to be!\"\n\n\"But I am not a lady.\"\n\n\"What do you call yourself?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Daisy gravely. \"I suppose I am a little piece of\none.\"\n\n\"Is that it?\" said Capt. Drummond laughing. \"Well, I will give you as\nlarge a piece of my leisure as you can make use of--without regard to\nproportions. What is on hand, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Capt. Drummond,\" said Daisy with a very serious face,--\"do soldiers\nhave a very hard time?\"\n\n\"Not always. Not when they are lying out under the trees at Melbourne,\nfor example.\"\n\n\"But I mean, when they are acting like soldiers?\"\n\nHe was ready with a laughing answer again, but seeing how earnest\nDaisy's face was, he controlled himself; and leaning on his elbow, with\njust a little smile of amusement on his face, he answered her.\n\n\"Well, Daisy--sometimes--they do.\"\n\n\"How, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"In a variety of ways.\"\n\n\"Will you please tell me about it?\"\n\nHe looked up at her. \"Why, Daisy, what makes you curious in the matter?\nHave you a friend in the army?\"\n\n\"No other but you,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"That is a kind speech. To reward you for it, I will tell you anything\nyou please. What is the question, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I would like to know in what way soldiers have a hard time?\"\n\n\"Well, Daisy, to begin, with, a soldier can't do what he has a mind.\"\n\n\"Not about anything?\"\n\n\"Well--no; not unless he gets leave. I am only at Melbourne now because\nI have got leave; and I must go when my leave is up. A soldier does not\nbelong to himself.\"\n\n\"To whom does he belong?'\n\n\"To his commander! He must go and come, do or not do things, just as his\nGeneral bids him; and ask no questions.\"\n\n\"Ask no questions?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"No; only do what he is ordered.\"\n\n\"But why mayn't he ask questions?\"\n\n\"That isn't his business. He has nothing to do with the reason of\nthings; all he has got to do is his duty. The _reason_ is his General's\nduty to look after.\"\n\n\"But suppose he had a very good General--then that wouldn't be much of a\nhardship,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Well, that is a very material point,\" said the Captain. \"_Suppose_ he\nhas a good General--as you say; that would make a great difference,\ncertainly.\"\n\n\"Is that all, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Not quite all.\"\n\n\"What else?\"\n\n\"Well, Daisy, a soldier, even under a good General, is often ordered to\ndo hard things.\"\n\n\"What sort of things?\"\n\n\"What do you think,\" said the Captain lolling comfortably on the green\nbank, \"of camping out under the rain-clouds--with no bed but stones or\npuddles of mud and wet leaves--and rain pouring down all night, and hard\nwork all day; and no better accommodations for week in and week out?\"\n\n\"But Capt. Drummond!\" said Daisy horrified, \"I thought soldiers had\ntents?\"\n\n\"So they do--in fine weather--\" said the Captain. \"But just where the\nhardest work is to do, is where they can't carry their tents.\"\n\n\"Couldn't that be prevented?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not.\"\n\n\"I should think they'd get sick?\"\n\n\"_Think_ they would! Why they do, Daisy, by hundreds and hundreds. What\nthen? A soldier's life isn't his own; and if he has to give it up in a\nhospital instead of on the field, why it's good for some other fellow.\"\n\nSo this it was, not to belong to oneself! Daisy looked on the soldier\nbefore her who had run, or would run, such risks, very tenderly; but\nnevertheless the child was thinking her own thoughts all the while. The\nCaptain saw both things.\n\n\"What is the 'hard work' they have to do?\" she asked presently.\n\n\"Daisy, you wouldn't like to see it.\"\n\n\"Why, sir?\"\n\n\"Poor fellows digging and making walls of sand or sods to shelter them\nfrom fire--when every now and then comes a shot from the enemy's\nbatteries, ploughs up their work, and knocks over some poor rascal who\nnever gets up again. That's one kind of hard work.\"\n\nDaisy's face was intent in its interest; but she only said, \"Please go\non.\"\n\n\"Do you like to hear it?\"\n\n\"Yes, I like to know about it.\"\n\n\"I wonder what Mrs. Randolph would say to me?\"\n\n\"Please go on, Capt. Drummond!\"\n\n\"I don't know about that. However, Daisy, work in the trenches is not\nthe hardest thing--nor living wet through or frozen half through--nor\ngoing half fed--About the hardest thing I know, is in a hurried retreat\nto be obliged to leave sick and wounded friends and poor fellows to fall\ninto the hands of the enemy. That's hard.\"\n\n\"Isn't it hard to fight a battle?\"\n\n\"You would not like to march up to the fire of the enemy's guns, and see\nyour friends falling right and left of you--struck down?\"\n\n\"Would you?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Would I what?\"\n\n\"Don't _you_ think it is hard, to do that?\"\n\n\"Not just at the time, Daisy. It is a little tough afterwards, when one\ncomes to think about it. It is hard to see fellows suffer too, that one\ncannot help.\"\n\nDaisy hardly knew what to think of Capt. Drummond. His handsome pleasant\nface looked not less gentle than usual, and _did_ look somewhat more\nsober. Daisy concluded it must be something about a soldier's life that\nshe could not understand, all this coolness with which he spoke of\ndreadful things. A deep sigh was the testimony of the different feelings\nof her little breast. Capt. Drummond looked up at her.\n\n\"Daisy, women are not called to be soldiers.\"\n\nDaisy passed that.\n\n\"Have you told me all you can tell me, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"I should not like to tell you all I could tell you.\"\n\n\"Why? Please do! I want to know all about soldiers.\"\n\nHe looked curiously at her. \"After all,\" he said, \"it is not so bad as\nyou think, Daisy. A good soldier does not find it hard to obey orders.\"\n\n\"What sorts of orders does he have to obey?\"\n\n\"All sorts.\"\n\n\"But suppose they were wrong orders?\"\n\n\"Makes no difference.\"\n\n\"_Wrong_ orders?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Capt. Drummond, laughing. \"If it is something he can do, he\ndoes it; if it is something he can't do, he loses his head trying.\"\n\n\"Loses his head, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes--by a cannon ball; or his heart, by a musket ball; or maybe he gets\noff with losing a hand or a leg; just as it happens. That makes no\ndifference, either.\" He watched Daisy as he spoke, seeing a slight\ncolour rise in her cheeks, and wondering what made the-child's quiet\ngrey eyes look at him so thoughtfully.\n\n[Illustration: A SOLDIER.]\n\n\"Capt. Drummond, is he ever told to do anything he _can't_ do?\"\n\n\"A few years ago, Daisy, the English and the French were fighting the\nRussians in the Crimea. I happened to be there on business, and I saw\nsome things. An order was brought one day to an officer commanding a\nbody of cavalry--you know what cavalry is?\"\n\n\"Yes, I know.\"\n\n\"The order was brought in--Hallo! what's that?\"\n\nFor a voice was heard shouting at a little distance, \"Drummond!--Ho,\nDrummond! Where are you?\"\n\n\"It's Mr. McFarlane!\" said Daisy. \"He'll come here. I'm very sorry.\"\n\n\"Don't be sorry,\" said the Captain. \"Come,--let us disappoint him. He\ncan't play hide and seek.\"\n\nHe jumped up and caught Daisy's willing hand, with the other hand caught\nup her shawl, and drew her along swiftly under cover of the trees and\nshrubbery towards the river, and away from the voice they heard calling.\nDaisy half ran, half flew, it seemed to her; so fast the strong hand of\nher friend pulled her over the ground. At the edge of the bank that\nfaced the river, at the top of a very steep descent of a hundred feet or\nnear that, under a thick shelter of trees, Capt. Drummond called a halt\nand stood listening. Far off, faint in the distance, they could still\nhear the shout.\n\n\"Drummond!--where are you? Hallo!\"\n\n\"We'll go down to the river,\" said the Captain; \"and he is too lazy to\nlook for us there. We shall be safe. Daisy, this is a retreat--but it is\nnot a hardship, is it?\"\n\nDaisy looked up delighted. The little face so soberly thoughtful a few\nminutes ago was all bright and flushed. The Captain was charmed too.\n\n\"But we can't get down there,\"--said Daisy, casting her eye down the\nvery steep pitch of the bank.\n\n\"That is something,\" said the Captain, \"with which as a soldier you have\nnothing to do. All you have to do is to obey orders; and the orders are\nthat we charge down hill.\"\n\n\"I shall go head first, then,\" said Daisy, \"or over and over. I couldn't\nkeep my feet one minute.\"\n\n\"Now you are arguing,\" said the Captain; \"and that shews\ninsubordination, or want of discipline. But we have got to charge, all\nthe same; and we'll see about putting you under arrest afterwards.\"\n\nDaisy laughed at him, but she could not conceive how they should get to\nthe bottom. It was very steep and strewn with dead leaves from the trees\nwhich grew thick all the way. Rolling down was out of the question, for\nthe stems of the trees would catch them; and to keep on their feet\nseemed impossible. Daisy found however that Capt. Drummond could manage\nwhat she could not. He took hold of her hand again; and then--Daisy\nhardly believed it while she was doing it,--but there she was, going\ndown that bank in an upright position; not falling nor stumbling, though\nit is true she was not walking neither. The Captain did not let her\nfall, and his strong hand seemed to take her like a feather over the\nstones and among the trees, giving her flying leaps and bounds down, the\nhill along with him. How _he_ went and kept his feet remained always a\nmarvel to Daisy; but down they went, and at the bottom they were in a\ntrifle of time.\n\n\"Do you think he will come down there after us?\" said the Captain.\n\n\"I am sure he won't,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"So am I sure. We are safe, Daisy. Now I am your prisoner and you are my\nprisoner; and we will set each other at any work we please. This is a\nnice place.\"\n\nBehind them, was the high, steep, wooded bank, rising right up. Before\nthem was a little strip of pebbly beach, and little wavelets of the\nriver washing past it. Beyond lay the broad stream, all bright in the\nsummer sunshine, with the great blue hills rising up misty and blue in\nthe distance. Nothing else; a little curve in the shore on each side\nshut them in from all that was above or below near at hand.\n\n\"Why this is a fine place,\" repeated the Captain. \"Were you ever here\nbefore?\"\n\n\"Not in a long time,\" said Daisy. \"I have been here with June.\"\n\n\"June! Aren't we here with June now?\"\n\n\"_Now_!--O I don't mean the month--I mean mamma's black June,\" said\nDaisy laughing.\n\n\"Well that is the first time I ever heard of a black June!\" muttered the\nCaptain. \"Does she resemble her name or her colour?\"\n\n\"She isn't much like the month of June,\" said Daisy. \"I don't think she\nis a very cheerful person.\"\n\n\"Then I wouldn't come here any more with her--or anywhere else.\"\n\n\"I don't,\" said Daisy. \"I don't go with her, or with anybody else--much.\nOnly I go with Sam and the pony.\"\n\n\"Where's Ransom? Don't he go with you?\"\n\n\"O Ransom's older, you know; and he's a boy.\"\n\n\"Ransom don't know his advantages. This is pleasant, Daisy. Now let us\nsee. What were you and I about?\"\n\n\"You were telling me something, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\n\"What was it? O I know. Daisy, you are under arrest, you know, and\nsentenced to extra duty. The work you are to perform, is to gather as\nmany of these little pebbles together--these white ones--as you can in\nfive minutes.\"\n\nDaisy went to work; so did the Captain; and very busy they were, for the\nCaptain gathered as many pebbles as she did. He made her fetch them to a\nplace where the little beach was clean and smooth, and in the shadow of\nan overhanging tree they both sat down. Then the Captain throwing off\nhis cap, began arranging the white pebbles on the sand in some\nmysterious manner--lines of them hero and lines of them there--whistling\nas he worked. Daisy waited with curious patience; watched him closely,\nbut never asked what he was doing. At last he stopped, looked up at her,\nand smiled.\n\n\"Well!--\" he said.\n\n\"What is it all, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"This is your story, Daisy.\"\n\n\"My story!\"\n\n\"Yes. Look here--these rows of white stones are the Russians;--these\nbrown stones are the English,\" said he, beginning to marshal another set\ninto mysterious order some distance from the white stones. \"Now what\nshall I do for some guns?\"\n\nDaisy in a very great state of delight began to make search for\nsomething that would do to stand for artillery; but Capt. Drummond\npresently solved the question by breaking some twigs from the tree\noverhead and cutting them up into inch lengths. These little mock guns\nhe distributed liberally among the white stones, pointing their muzzles\nin various directions; and finally drew some lines in the sand which he\ninformed Daisy were fortifications. Daisy looked on; it was better than\na fairy tale.\n\n\"Now Daisy, we are ready for action. This is the battle of Balaklava;\nand these are part of the lines. An order was brought to an officer\ncommanding a body of cavalry stationed up here--you know what cavalry\nis?\"\n\n\"Yes, I know.\"\n\n\"The order was brought to him to charge upon the enemy down _there_,--in\na place where he could do no good and must be cut to pieces;--the enemy\nhad so many guns in that place and he had so few men to attack them\nwith. The order was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake, but his General\nhad sent it--there was nothing for him to do but to obey. So he\ncharged.\"\n\n\"And his men?\"\n\n\"Every one. They knew they were going to their death--and everybody else\nknew it that saw them go--but they charged!\"\n\n\"Did you see it, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"I saw it.\"\n\n\"And did they go to their death?\" said Daisy, awe-stricken, for Captain\nDrummond's look said that he was thinking of something it had been grave\nto see.\n\n\"Why yes. Look here, Daisy--here were cannon; there were cannon; there\nwere more cannon; cannon on every side of them but one. They went into\ndeath they knew, when they went in there.\"\n\n\"How many of them went there?\"\n\n\"Six hundred.\"\n\n\"Six hundred!--were they _all_ killed?\"\n\n\"No. There were a part of them that escaped and lived to come back.\"\n\nDaisy looked at the pebbles and the guns in profound silence.\n\n\"But if the officer knew the order was a mistake, why must he obey it?\"\n\n\"That's a soldier's duty, Daisy. He can do nothing but follow orders. A\nsoldier can't know, very often, what an order is given for; he cannot\njudge; he does not know what his General means to accomplish. All he has\nto think of is to obey orders; and if every soldier does that, all is\nright.\"\n\nWhat was little Daisy thinking of? She sat looking at her friend the\nCaptain. He was amused.\n\n\"Well, Daisy--what do you think? will it do? Do you think you will stand\nit and be a soldier?\"\n\nDaisy hesitated a good deal, and looked off and on at the Captain's\nface. Then she said very quietly, \"Yes.\"\n\n\"You will!\" he said. \"I wish you would join my branch of the service.\nSuppose you come into my company?\"\n\n\"Suppose you join mine?\"\n\n\"With all my heart!\" said the Captain laughing; \"if it is not\ninconsistent with my present duties. So you have enlisted already? Are\nyou authorized to receive recruits?\"\n\nDaisy shook her head and did not join in his laugh.\n\n\"Honestly, Daisy, tell me true; what did you want to know about soldiers\nfor? I have answered you; now answer me. I am curious.\"\n\nDaisy did not answer, and seemed in doubt.\n\n\"Will you not honour me so far?\"\n\nDaisy hesitated still, and looked at the Captain more than once. But\nCapt. Drummond was a great favourite, and had earned her favour partly\nby never talking nonsense to her; a great distinction.\n\n\"I will tell you when we get back to the house,\" she said,--\"if you will\nnot speak of it, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\nThe Captain could get no nearer his point; and he and Daisy spent a good\nwhile longer by the river-side, erecting fortifications and studying the\ncharge of the Light brigade.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nThe Captain was not able to claim Daisy's promise immediately. On their\nreturn to the house he was at once taken up with some of the older\npeople, and Daisy ran off to her long delayed dinner.\n\nThe next day in the course of her wanderings about the grounds, which\nwere universal, Daisy came upon her cousin Preston. He sat in the shade\nof a clump of larches under a great oak, making flies for fishing; which\noccupation, like a gentlemanly boy as he was, he had carried out there\nwhere the litter of it would be in nobody's way. Preston Gary was a very\nfine fellow; about sixteen, a handsome fellow, very spirited, very\nclever, and very gentle and kind to his little cousin Daisy. Daisy liked\nhim much, and was more entirely free with him perhaps than with any\nother person in the family. Her seeing him now was the signal for a\njoyous skip and bound which brought her to his side.\n\n\"O Preston, are you going fishing?\"\n\n\"Perhaps--if I have a good day for it.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"To-morrow.\"\n\n\"Who's going with you?\"\n\n\"Nobody, I reckon. Unless you want to go, Daisy.\"\n\n\"O Preston, may I go with you? Where are you going?\"\n\n\"Daisy, I'm bound for the Hillsdale woods, back of Crum Elbow--they say\nthere are first-rate trout streams there; but I am afraid you can't go\nso far.\"\n\n\"O I can go anywhere, Preston! with Loupe, you know. You're going to\nride, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, but Loupe! What shall we do with Loupe? You see, I shall be gone\nthe whole day, Daisy--it's likely. You'd get tired.\"\n\n\"Why we could find somewhere to put Loupe--Sam could take care of him.\nAnd I should like to go, Preston, if you think I would not frighten the\nfish.\"\n\n\"O if Sam's going along, that is another matter,\" said Preston. \"_You_\nfrighten the fish, Daisy! I don't believe you can do that for anything.\nBut I won't let you get into mischief.\"\n\nSo it was settled, and Daisy's face looked delighted; and for some time\nshe and Preston discussed the plan, the fish, and his flies. Then\nsuddenly Daisy introduced another subject.\n\n\"Preston, where is the Crimea?\"\n\n\"The Crimea!\" said Preston.\n\n\"Yes; where the English and the French were fighting with the Russians.\"\n\n\"The Crimea! Why Daisy, don't you know where it is? You'll find it in\nthe Black Sea somewhere.\"\n\nDaisy hesitated.\n\n\"But Preston, I don't know where the Black Sea is.\"\n\n\"Why Daisy, what has become of your geography?\"\n\n\"I never had much,\" said Daisy humbly, and looking serious;--\"and lately\nmamma hasn't wanted me to do anything but run about.\"\n\n\"Well, if you take the map of Europe, and set out from the north of\nRussia and walk down, you'll find yourself in the Crimea after a while.\nJust hold that, Daisy, will you?\"\n\nDaisy held the ends of silk he put in her fingers; but while he worked,\nshe thought. Might it not be possible that a good knowledge of geography\nmight have something to do with the use or the improvement of her\n_talents_? And if a knowledge of geography, why not also a knowledge of\nhistory, and of arithmetic,--and of everything! There could not be a\nreasonable doubt of it. What would Preston be,--what would Mr. Dinwiddie\nor Capt. Drummond be,--if they knew nothing? And by the same reasoning,\nwhat would Daisy Randolph be? What could she do with her talents, if she\nlet them lie rusty with ignorance? Now this was a very serious thought\nto Daisy, because she did not like study. She liked knowledge right\nwell, if she could get it without trouble, and if it was entertaining\nknowledge; but she did not think geography at all entertaining, nor\narithmetic. Yet--Daisy forgot all about Preston's artificial flies, and\nher face grew into a depth of sobriety.\n\n\"Preston--\" she began slowly,--\"is it hard?\"\n\n\"Not just that,\" said Preston, busy in finishing a piece of work,--\"it\nis a little ticklish to stroke this into order--but it isn't hard, if\nyou have the right materials, and know how.\"\n\n\"O no--I don't mean flies--I mean geography.\"\n\n\"Geography!\" said Preston. \"O you are at the Crimea yet, are you? I'll\nshew it to you, Daisy, when we go in.\"\n\n\"Preston, is the use of geography only to know where places are?\"\n\n\"Well, that's pretty convenient,\" said Preston. \"Daisy, just look for\nthat bunch of grey silk--I had it here a minute ago.\"\n\n\"But Preston, tell me what _is_ the use of it?\"\n\n\"Why, my dear little Daisy--thank you!--you'd be all abroad without it.\"\n\n\"All abroad!\" exclaimed Daisy.\n\n\"It comes to about that, I reckon. You wouldn't understand anything. How\ncan you? Suppose I shew you my pictures of the North American\nIndians--they'll be as good as Chinese to you, if you don't know\ngeography.\"\n\nDaisy was silent, feeling puzzled.\n\n\"And,\" said Preston, binding his fly, \"when you talk of the Crimea you\nwill not know whether the English came from the east or the west, nor\nwhether the Russians are not living under the equator and eating ripe\noranges.\"\n\n\"Don't they eat oranges?\" said Daisy seriously. But that question set\nPreston off into a burst of laughter, for which he atoned as soon as it\nwas over by a very gentle kiss to his little cousin.\n\n\"Never mind, Daisy,\" he said; \"I think you are better without geography.\nYou aren't just like everybody else--that's a fact.\"\n\n\"Daisy,\" said Capt. Drummond, coming upon the scene, \"do you allow such\nthings?\"\n\n\"It is Preston's manner of asking my pardon, Capt. Drummond,\" Daisy\nanswered, looking a little troubled, but in her slow, womanly way. The\nCaptain could not help laughing in his turn.\n\n\"What offence has he been guilty of?--tell me, and I will make him ask\npardon in another manner. But Daisy, do you reckon such a liberty no\noffence?\"\n\n\"Not if I am willing he should take it,\" said Daisy. The Captain seemed\nmuch amused.\n\n\"My dear little lady!\" he said, \"it is good for me you are not half a\nscore of years wiser. What were you talking about the Crimea?--I heard\nthe word as I came up.\"\n\n\"I asked Preston to shew it to me on the map--or he said he would.\"\n\n\"Come with me and I'll do it. You shouldn't ask anybody but me about the\nCrimea.\"\n\nSo getting hold affectionately of Daisy's hand, he and she went off to\nthe house. No one was in the library. The Captain opened a large map of\nRussia; Daisy got up in a chair, with her elbows on the great library\ntable, and leaned over it, while the Captain drew up another chair and\npointed out the Crimea and Sebastopol, and shewed the course by which\nthe English ships had come, for Daisy took care to ask that. Then,\nfinding so earnest a listener, he went on to describe to her the\nsituation of other places on the Peninsula, and the character of the\ncountry, and the severities of the climate in the region of the great\nstruggle. Daisy listened, with her eyes varying between Capt. Drummond's\nface and the map. The Black Sea became known to Daisy thence and\nforever.\n\n\"I never thought geography was so interesting!\" she remarked with a\nsigh, as the Captain paused. He smiled.\n\n\"Now Daisy, you have something to tell me,\" he said.\n\n\"What?\" said Daisy, looking up suddenly.\n\n\"Why you wanted to know about soldiers--don't you remember your\npromise?\"\n\nThe child's face all changed; her busy, eager, animated look, became on\nthe instant thoughtful and still. Yet changed, as the Captain saw with\nsome curiosity, not to lesser but to greater intentness.\n\n\"Well, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Capt. Drummond, if I tell you, I do not wish it talked about.\"\n\n\"Certainly not!\" he said suppressing a smile, and watched her while she\ngot down from her chair and looked about among the bookshelves.\n\n\"Will you please put this on the table for me?\" she said--\"I can't lift\nit.\"\n\n\"A Bible!\" said the Captain to himself. \"This is growing serious.\" But\nhe carried the great quarto silently and placed it on the table. It was\na very large volume, full of magnificent engravings, which were the sole\ncause and explanation of its finding a place in Mr. Randolph's library.\nHe put it on the table and watched Daisy curiously, who disregarding all\nthe pictures turned over the leaves hurriedly, till near the end of the\nbook; then stopped, put her little finger under some words, and turned\nto him. The Captain looked and read--over the little finger--\n\n\"Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.\"\n\nIt gave the Captain a very odd feeling. He stopped and read it two or\nthree times over.\n\n\"But Daisy!\"--he said.\n\n\"What, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"What has this to do with what we were talking about?\"\n\n\"Would you please shut this up and put it away, first?\"\n\nThe Captain obeyed, and as he turned from the bookshelves Daisy took his\nhand again, and drew him, child-fashion, out of the house and through\nthe shrubbery. He let her alone till she had brought him to a shady\nspot, where under the thick growth of magnificent trees a rustic seat\nstood, in full view of the distant mountains and the river.\n\n\"Where is my answer, Daisy?\" he said, as she let go his hand and seated\nherself.\n\n\"What was your question, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Now you are playing hide and seek with me. What have those words you\nshewed me,--what have they to do with our yesterday's conversation?\"\n\n\"I would like to know,\" said Daisy slowly, \"what it means, to be a good\nsoldier?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I think I have told you,\" she said.\n\nShe said it with the most unmoved simplicity. The Captain could not\nimagine what made him feel uncomfortable. He whistled.\n\n\"Daisy, you are incomprehensible!\" he exclaimed, and catching hold of\nher hand, he began a race down towards the river. Such a race as they\nhad taken the day before. Through shade and through sun, down grassy\nsteeps and up again, flying among the trees as if some one were after\nthem, the Captain ran; and Daisy was pulled along with him. At the edge\nof the woods which crowned the river bank, he stopped and looked at\nDaisy who was all flushed and sparkling with exertion and merriment.\n\n\"Sit down there!\" said he, putting her on the bank and throwing himself\nbeside her. \"Now you look as you ought to look!\"\n\n\"I don't think mamma would think so,\" said Daisy panting and laughing.\n\n\"Yes, she would. Now tell me--do you call yourself a soldier?\"\n\n\"I don't know whether there can be such little soldiers,\" said Daisy.\n\"If there can be, I am.\"\n\n\"And what fighting do you expect to do, little one?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Daisy. \"Not very well.\"\n\n\"What enemies are you going to face?\"\n\nBut Daisy only looked rather hard at the Captain and made him no answer.\n\n\"Do you expect to emulate the charge of the Light Brigade, in some tilt\nagainst fancied wrong?\"\n\nDaisy looked at her friend; she did not quite understand him, but his\nlast words were intelligible.\n\n\"I don't know,\" she said meekly. \"But if I do it will not be because the\norder is a _mistake_, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\nThe Captain bit his lip. \"Daisy,\" said he, \"are you the only soldier in\nthe family?\"\n\nDaisy sat still, looking up over the sunny slopes of ground towards the\nhouse.\n\nThe sunbeams shewed it bright and stately on the higher ground; they\npoured over a rich luxuriant spread of greensward and trees, highly\nkept; stately and fair; and Daisy could not help remembering that in all\nthat domain, so far as she knew, there was not a thought in any heart of\nbeing the sort of soldier she wished to be. She got up from the ground\nand smoothed her dress down.\n\n\"Capt. Drummond,\" she said with a grave dignity that was at the same\ntime perfectly childish too,--\"I have told you about myself--I can't\ntell you about other people.\"\n\n\"Daisy, you are not angry with me!\"\n\n\"No sir.\"\n\n\"Don't you sometimes permit other people to ask your pardon in Preston\nGary's way?\"\n\nDaisy was about to give a quiet negative to this proposal, when\nperceiving more mischief in the Captain's face than might be manageable,\nshe pulled away her hand from him, and dashed off like a deer. The\nCaptain was wiser than to follow.\n\n[Illustration: MELBOURNE HOUSE.]\n\nLater in the day, which turned out a very warm one, he and Gary\nMcFarlane went down again to the edge of the bank, hoping to get if they\ncould a taste of the river breeze. Lying there stretched out under the\ntrees, after a little while they heard voices. The voices were down on\nthe shore. Gary moved his position to look.\n\n\"It's that child--what under the sun is she doing! I beg pardon for\nnaming anything warm just now, Drummond--but she is building\nfortifications of some sort, down there.\"\n\nCapt. Drummond came forward too. Down below them, a little to the right,\nwhere a tiny bend in the shore made a spot of shade, Daisy was\ncrouching on the ground apparently very busy. Back of her a few paces\nwas her dark attendant, June.\n\n\"There's energy,\" said Gary. \"What a nice thing it is to be a child and\nplay in the sand!\"\n\nThe talk down on the shore went on; June's voice could scarcely be\nheard, but Daisy's words were clear--\"Do, June! Please try.\" Another\nmurmur from June, and then Daisy--\"Try, June--do, please!\" The little\nvoice was soft, but its utterances were distinct; the words could be\nheard quite plainly. And Daisy sat back from her sand-work, and June\nbegan to sing something. _What_, it would have been difficult to tell at\nthe top of the bank, but then Daisy's voice struck in. With no knowledge\nthat she had listeners, the notes came mounting up to the top of the\nbank, clear, joyous and strong, with a sweet power that nobody knew\nDaisy's voice had.\n\n\"Upon my word, that's pretty!\" said the Captain.\n\n\"A pretty thing, too, faith,\" said Gary. \"Captain, let's get nearer the\nperformers. Look out, now, and don't strike to windward.\"\n\nThey went, like hunters, softly down the bank, keeping under\nshelter, and winding round so as to get near before they should be seen.\nThey succeeded. Daisy was intent upon her sand-work again, and June's\nback was towards them. The song went on more softly; then in a chorus\nDaisy's voice rang out again, and the words were plain.\n\n  \"Die in the field of battle,\n   Die in the field of battle,\n   Die in the field of battle,\n     Glory in your view.\"\n\n\"Spirited!\" whispered Gary.\n\n\"I almost think it is a Swedish war song,\" said the Captain. \"I am not\nsure.\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy!\"--said June--\"the gentlemen--\"\n\nDaisy started up. The intruders came near. On the ground beside her lay\nan open map of Europe; in the sand before her she had drawn the same\noutlines on a larger scale. The shore generally was rough and pebbly;\njust in this little cove there was a space of very fine sand, left\nwetted and adhesive by the last tide. Here the battle of Inkermann had\nbeen fought, and here Daisy's geography was going on. Capt. Drummond,\nwho alone had the clue to all this, sat down on a convenient stone to\nexamine the work. The lines were pretty fairly drawn, and Daisy had gone\non to excavate to some depth the whole area of the Mediterranean and\nBlack Seas, and the region of the Atlantic to some extent; with the\ncourse of the larger rivers deeply indented.\n\n\"What is all this gouging for, Daisy?\" he said. \"You want water here\nnow, to fill up.\"\n\n\"I thought when the tide came, Capt. Drummond, I could let it flow in\nhere, and see how it would look.\"\n\n\"It's a poor rule that don't work both ways,\" said the Captain. \"I\nalways heard that 'time and tide wait for no man;' and we won't wait for\nthe tide. Here Gary--make yourself useful--fetch some water here; enough\nto fill two seas and a portion of the Atlantic Ocean.\"\n\n\"What shall I bring it in, if you please?\"\n\n\"Anything!--your hands, or your hat, man. Do impossibilities for once.\nIt is easy to see you are not a soldier.\"\n\n\"The fates preserve me from being a soldier under you!\" said Gary--\"if\nthat's your idea of military duty. What are _you_ going to do while I\nplay Neptune in a bucket?\"\n\n\"I am going to build cities and raise up mountains. Daisy, suppose we\nlay in a supply of these little white stones, and some black ones----\"\n\nWhile this was done, and Daisy looked delighted, Mr. McFarlane seized\nupon a tin dipper which June had brought, and filled it at the river.\nCapt. Drummond carefully poured out the water into the Mediterranean,\nand opened a channel through the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, which were\nvery full of sand, into the Black Sea. Then he sent Gary off again for\nmore, and began placing the pebbles.\n\n\"What is that for, Capt. Drummond?\" asked Daisy.\n\n\"These are the Alps--white, as they should be, for the snow always lies\non them.\"\n\n\"Is it so cold there?\"\n\n\"No,--but the mountains are so high. Their tops are always cold, but\nflowers grow down in the valleys. These are very great mountains,\nDaisy.\"\n\n\"And what are those black ones, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"This range is the Pyrenees--between France and Spain;--they are great\ntoo, and beautiful. And here go the Carpathians--and here the Ural\nmountains,--and these must stand for the Apennines.\"\n\n\"Are they beautiful too?\"\n\n\"I suppose so--but I can't say, never having been there. Now what shall\nwe do for the cities? As they are centres of wealth, I think a\nthree-cent piece must mark them. Hand over, Gary; I have not thrips\nenough. There is St. Petersburg--here is Constantinople--here is\nRome--now here is Paris. Hallo! we've no England! can't leave London\nout. Give me that spoon, Daisy--\" and the Captain, as he expressed it,\nwent to work in the trenches. England was duly marked out, the channel\nfilled, and a bit of silver planted for the metropolis of the world.\n\n\"Upon my word!\" said Gary,--\"I never knew geography before. I shall\ncarry away some ideas.\"\n\n\"Keep all you can get,\" said the Captain. \"Now there's Europe.\"\n\n\"And here were the battles,\"--said Daisy, touching the little spot of\nwet sand which stood for the Crimea.\n\n\"_The_ battles!\" said Gary. \"What battles?\"\n\n\"Why, where the English and French fought the Russians.\"\n\n\"_The_ battles! Shades of all the heroes! Why Daisy, Europe has done\nnothing but fight for a hundred thousand years. There isn't a half inch\nof it that hasn't had a battle. See, _there_ was one,--and there was\nanother--tremendous;--and there,--and there,--and there,--and\nthere,--and all over! This little strip here that is getting swallowed\nup in the Mediterranean--there has been blood enough shed on it to make\nit red from one end to the other, a foot deep. That's because it has had\nso many great men belonging to it.\"\n\nDaisy looked at Capt. Drummond.\n\n\"It's pretty much so, Daisy,\" he said; \"all over the south of Europe, at\nany rate.\"\n\n\"Why over the south and not the north?\"\n\n\"People in the north haven't anything to fight for,\" said Gary. \"Nobody\nwants a possession of ice and snow--more than will cool his butter.\"\n\n\"A good deal so, Daisy,\" said Capt. Drummond, taking the silent appeal\nof her eyes.\n\n\"Besides,\" continued Gary, \"great men don't grow in the north. Daisy, I\nwant to know which is the battle-field _you_ are going to die on.\"\n\nDaisy sat back from the map of Europe and looked at Gary with\nunqualified amazement.\n\n\"Well?\" said Gary. \"I mean it.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean.\"\n\n\"I hear you are going to die on the field of battle--and I want to be\nthere that I may throw myself after you, as Douglas did after the\nBruce's locket; saying 'Go thou first, brave heart, as thou art wont,\nand I will follow thee!'\"\n\n\"Daisy,\" said the Captain, \"you were singing a battle-song as we came\ndown the hill--that is what he means.\"\n\n\"Oh!--\" said Daisy, her face changing from its amazed look. But her\ncolour rose too a little.\n\n\"What was it?\"\n\n\"That?\" said Daisy. \"O that was a hymn.\"\n\n\"A hymn!\" shouted Gary. \"Good! A hymn! That's glorious! Where did you\nget it, Daisy? Have you got a collection of Swedish war-songs? _They_\nused to sing and fight together, I am told. They are the only people I\never heard of that did--except North American Indians. Where did you get\nit?\"\n\n\"I got it from June.\"\n\n\"June! what, by inspiration? June is a fine month, I know--for\nstrawberries--but I had no idea----\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said Daisy, half laughing,--\"I mean my June--there she is; I\ngot it from her.\"\n\n\"Hollo!\" cried Gary. \"Come here, my good woman--Powers of Darkness! Is\nyour name June?\"\n\n\"Yes sir, if you please,\" the woman said, in her low voice, dropping a\ncourtesy.\n\n\"Well, nobody offers more attractions--in a name,\" said Gary;--\"I'll say\nthat for you. Where did you get that song your little mistress was\nsinging when we came down the hill? Can you sing it?\"\n\nJune's reply was unintelligible.\n\n\"Speak louder, my friend. _What_ did you say?\"\n\nJune made an effort. \"If you please, sir, I can't sing,\" she was\nunderstood to say. \"They sings it in camp meeting.\"\n\n\"In camp meeting!\" said Gary. \"I should think so! What's that! You see I\nhave never been there, and don't understand.\"\n\n\"If you please, sir--the gentleman knows\"--June said, retreating\nbackwards as she spoke, and so fast that she soon got out of their\nneighbourhood. The shrinking, gliding action accorded perfectly with the\nsmothered tones and subdued face of the woman.\n\n\"Don't _she_ know!\" said Gary. \"Isn't that a character now? But, Daisy,\nare you turning Puritan?\"\n\n\"I don't know what that is,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Upon my word you look like it! It's a dreadful disease,\nDaisy;--generally takes the form of--I declare I don't know!--fever, I\nbelieve, and delirium; and singing is one of the symptoms.\"\n\n\"You don't want to stop her singing?\" said Capt. Drummond.\n\n\"That sort? yes I do. It wouldn't be healthy, up at the house. Daisy,\nsing that gipsy song from 'The Camp in Silesia,' that I heard you\nsinging a day or two ago.\"\n\n\"'The Camp in Silesia?'\" said Capt. Drummond. \"Daisy, can you sing\n_that_?\"\n\n\"Whistles it off like a gipsy herself,\" said Gary. \"Daisy, sing it.\"\n\n\"I like the other best,\" said Daisy.\n\nBut neither teasing nor coaxing could make her sing again, either the\none or the other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nIt was bright morning, the pony chaise at the door, and Daisy in it;\nstanding to arrange matters.\n\n\"Now, Daisy, have you got all in there? I don't believe it.\"\n\n\"Why don't you believe it?\"\n\n\"How much will that concern hold?\"\n\n\"A great deal more than you want. There's a big box under all the seat.\"\n\n\"What have you got in it?\"\n\nDaisy went off into a laugh, such a laugh of glee as did her father's\nheart good. Mr. Randolph was standing in the doorway to see the\nexpedition set forward.\n\n\"What's the matter, Daisy?\" he said.\n\n\"Papa, he don't think anybody is a person of forethought but himself.\"\n\nIt was Preston's turn to laugh, and Mr. Randolph joined him.\n\n\"Shews he don't know you, Daisy, as well as I do. When do you expect to\nbe home again?\"\n\nMr. Randolph had come down to the side of the chaise and was looking\nwith a very pleased face at what was in it. Daisy said she supposed they\nwould stay till Preston had caught as many fish as he wanted.\n\n\"And won't you be tired before that?\"\n\n\"O no, papa! I am going to fish too.\"\n\n\"I'll have all you catch, Daisy,--for my own eating!\"\n\nHe bent his head down as he spoke, to kiss the little fisherwoman; but\nDaisy, answering some unusual tenderness of face or manner, sprung up\nand threw her arms round his neck, and only released him after a very\nclose pressure.\n\n\"She is in a fair way to be cured of her morbid seriousness\"--Mr.\nRandolph thought as he saw the cavalcade set forth; and well pleased he\nwent in to breakfast. Daisy and Preston had breakfasted already, before\nthe family; and now were off to the hills just as other people were\nstirring sugar into cups of coffee.\n\nPreston led the way on a fine bay of his uncle's; taking good gallops\nnow and then to ease his own and his horse's spirits, and returning to\ngo quietly for a space by the side of the pony-chaise. Loupe never went\ninto anything more exciting than his waddling trot; though Daisy made\nhim keep that up briskly.\n\n\"What a thing it is, to have such short legs!\" said Preston, watching\nthe movements of the pony.\n\n\"_You_ go over the road without seeing it,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I don't want to see it. What I want to see is Hillsdale.\"\n\n\"So do I; but I want to see _everything_.\"\n\nPreston smiled, he could not help it, at the very happy and busy little\nface and spirit down in the pony chaise.\n\n\"What do you see, Daisy, that you have not seen a hundred times before?\"\n\n\"That makes no difference,\" said Daisy. \"I have seen _you_ a hundred\ntimes before.\"\n\nPreston laughed, set spurs to his horse, and went off for another\ngallop.\n\nDaisy enjoyed her morning's drive. The light was clear and the air was\nfresh; Preston gallopping before and Sana jogging on behind; everything\nwas fine! Then it was quite true that she liked to see everything; those\ngrey eyes of hers were extremely busy. All the work going on in the\nfields had interest for her, and all the passers-by on the road. A\nstrange interest, often, for Daisy was very apt to be wondering whether\nany of them knew and loved the name she loved best; wondering who among\nall those rough-looking, unknown people, might be her fellow-servants.\nAnd with that a thought which, if Mr. Randolph had known it, would have\nchecked his self-congratulations. He had not guessed what made the clasp\nof Daisy's arms round his neck so close that morning.\n\nTill they passed through Crum Elbow everything had been, as Preston\nsaid, seen a hundred times before. A little way beyond that everything\nbecame new. Mrs. Randolph's carriage never came that road. The country\ngrew more rough and broken, and the hills in their woody dress shewed\nmore and more near.\n\n\"Do you see that break in the woods?\" said Preston, pointing with his\nwhip; \"that is where the brook comes out,--that is where we are going.\"\n\n\"What time is it, Preston?\"\n\n\"Time?--it is half past nine. What about it?\"\n\n\"I'm hungry--that's all. I wanted to know what time it was.\"\n\n\"Hungry! O what a fisher you will make, Daisy! Can't stand fasting for\ntwo hours and a half.\"\n\n\"No, but Preston, I didn't eat much breakfast. And I've had all this\nride since. I am going to stand fasting; but I am going to be hungry\ntoo.\"\n\n\"No you aren't,\" said Preston. \"Just let Loupe take you up to that\nlittle gate, will you? I'll see if we can leave the horses here.\nSam!--take this fellow!\"\n\nPreston jumped down from the saddle and went into the house, to the\nfront yard of which the little gate opened. Daisy looked after him. It\nwas a yard full of grass and weeds, among which a few poppies and\nhollyhocks and balsams grew straggling up where they could. Nothing kept\nthem out of the path but the foot-tread of the people that went over it;\nhoe and rake were never known there Since the walk was first made. The\nhouse was a little, low, red-front house, with one small window on each\nside the door.\n\n\"All right!\" said Preston, coming back. \"Sam, take the horses round to\nthe barn; and bring the baskets out of the chaise-box and wait at this\ngate for us.\"\n\n\"Why is he to wait? where are we going?\"\n\n\"Going in to get some breakfast.\"\n\n\"_Here_, Preston?--O I can't.\"\n\n\"What's the matter?\"\n\n\"I can't eat anything in there. I can wait.\"\n\n\"Why it looks clean,\" said Preston; \"room and table and woman and\nall.\"--But Daisy still shook her head and was not to be persuaded; and\nPreston laughing went back to the house. But presently he came out again\nbearing a tray in his hand, and brought it to Daisy. On the tray was\nvery nice looking brown and white bread, and milk and cheese and a\nplatter of strawberries. Preston got into the chaise and set the tray on\nhis knees. After him had come from the house a woman in a fly-away cap\nand short-gown. She stood just inside the gate leaning her arms on it.\nIf she had not been there, perhaps Daisy would still have refused to\ntouch the food; but she was afraid of offending or hurting the woman's\nfeelings; so first she tried a strawberry, and found it of rare flavour;\nfor it was a wild one; then she broke a morsel of bread, and that was\nexcellent. Daisy discovered that breakfast in a pony chaise, out in the\nair, was a very fine thing. So did Preston.\n\n\"So you're agoin' afishin'?\" said the woman at the gate.\n\n\"Yes, ma'am,\" Preston said.\n\n\"And that little one too?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"I declare! I never see nobody so little and gauzy as was willin' to do\nsuch indelicate work! But I shouldn't wonder, now, if she was to catch\nsome. Fishes--and all things--is curious creeturs, and goes by\ncontrairies.\"\n\n\"Hope they won't to-day!\" said Preston, who was eating strawberries and\nbread and milk at a great rate.\n\n\"Where's the rest of your party?\" the woman went on.\n\n\"We're all here, ma'am,\" said Preston.\n\n\"Well, I see a horse there that haint nobody on top of him?\"\n\n\"I was on top of him a little while ago,\" said Preston.\n\n\"Well, I expect that little creetur haint druv herself?\"\n\n\"Drove the pony, anyhow,\" said Preston. \"Now, ma'am, what do we owe you,\nbesides thanks, for your excellent hospitality?\"\n\n\"I reckon you don't owe me much,\" said the woman, as Preston got out of\nthe chaise. \"You can set the tray in there on the table, if you're a\nmind to. We always calculate to set a good meal, and we're allowed to;\nbut we don't never calculate to live by it and we've no dispensary.\nThere's only my husband and me, and there's a plenty for more than us.\"\n\nPreston had handed the tray to Sam to carry in, and as soon as he could\nget a chance bade good morning, and went forward with Daisy. On foot now\nthey took their way to the woods, and presently plunged into them. It\nwas very pleasant under the deep shade, for the sun had grown warm, and\nthere was hardly air enough to flutter the leaves in the high branches.\nBut Daisy and Preston pushed on briskly, and soon the gurgle of the\nbrook gave its sweet sound to their ears. They followed up the stream\nthen, over stones and rocks, and crossing from side to side on trunks of\ntrees that had fallen across the water; till a part of the brook was\nreached far enough back among the hills to be wild and lonely; where the\ntrout might be supposed to be having a good time.\n\n\"Now, Daisy,\" said Preston, \"I think this will do. Can't have a better\nplace. I'll try and get you to work here.\"\n\n\"And now, how must I manage, Preston?\" said Daisy anxiously.\n\n\"I'll shew you.\"\n\nDaisy watched while Preston took out and put together the light rod\nwhich she was to use, and fixed a fly for the bait.\n\n\"Do you see that little waterfall, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And you see where the water curls round just under the fall?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"That is where you must cast your fly. I should think there must be some\nspeckled fellows there. What glory, Daisy, if you should catch one!\"\n\n\"Well, what must I do, Preston?\"\n\n\"Throw your fly over, so that it may light just there, and then watch;\nand if a fish jumps up and catches it, you pull your line away and catch\nthe fish.\"\n\n\"But I can't throw it from here? I must go nearer.\"\n\n\"No, you mustn't--you're near enough; stand just here. Try if you can't\nthrow your fly there. If you went nearer, you would frighten the fish.\nThey are just about as shy as if they were Daisies. Now I will go a\nlittle further off and see what I can do. You'll catch the first fish!\"\n\n\"No, I shall not,\" said Daisy, gravely.\n\nShe tried with a beating heart to throw her line; she tried very hard.\nThe first time it landed on the opposite side of the brook. The next\ntime it landed on a big stone this side of the waterfall. The third\ntrial fastened the hook firmly in Daisy's hat. In vain Daisy gently\nsought to release it; she was obliged at last to ask help of Sam.\n\n\"That ar's no good, Miss Daisy,\" said Sam, as he got the fly out of its\ndifficulty.\n\n\"If I could only throw it in----\" said Daisy. And this time with a very\ngreat effort she did succeed in swinging the bait by a gentle motion to\nthe very spot. No statue was more motionless than Daisy then. She had\neyes and ears for nothing but the trout in the brook. Minutes went by.\nThe brook leaped and sang on its way the air brought the sweet odours of\nmosses and ferns; the leaves flapped idly overhead; you could hear every\nlittle sound. For there sat Daisy and there stood Sam, as still as the\nstones. Time went by. At last a sigh came from Daisy's weary little\nbody, which she had not dared to move an inch for half an hour.\n\n[Illustration: HILLSDALE.]\n\n\"Tain't no good, Miss Daisy,\" whispered Sam.\n\n\"I can't keep it still,\" said Daisy under her breath, as if the fishes\nwould hear and understand her.\n\n\"Suppos'n you try t'other bait, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"What bait?\"\n\n\"O t'other kind, Miss Daisy. Will I put it on for you to try?\"\n\nDaisy sat awhile longer however, in silence and watching, until every\njoint was weary and her patience too. Then she left the rod in Sam's\nhands and went up to see what Preston was doing. He was some distance\nhigher up the stream. Slowly and carefully Daisy crept near, till she\ncould see his basket, and find out how much he had in it. That view\nloosed her tongue.\n\n\"Not one yet, Preston!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Not a bite,\" said Preston.\n\n\"I hadn't either.\"\n\n\"I don't believe that there are any fish,\" said Preston.\n\n\"O but Sam said he saw lots of them.\"\n\n\"Lots of them! It's the flies then. Sam!--Hollo, Sam!--Sam!--\"\n\n\"Here, sir,\" said Sam, coming up the brook.\n\n\"Just find me some worms, will you?--and be spry. I can't get a bite.\"\n\nDaisy sat down to look about her, while Preston drew in his line and\nthrew the fly away. It was a pretty place! The brook spread just there\ninto a round pool several feet across, deep and still; and above it the\ngreat trees towered up as if they would hide the sun. Sam came presently\nwith the bait. Preston dressed his hook, and gave his line a swing, to\ncast the bait into the pool; rather incautiously, seeing that the trees\nstood so thick and so near. Accordingly the line lodged in the high\nbranches of an oak on the opposite side of the pool. Neither was there\nany coaxing it down.\n\n\"What a pity!\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Not at all,\" said Preston. \"Here, Sam--just go up that tree and clear\nthe line--will you?\"\n\nSam looked at the straight high stem of the oak, which had shot up high\nbefore it put forth a single branch, and he did not like the job. His\nslow motions said so.\n\n\"Come!\" said Preston,--\"be alive and do it quick, will you?\"\n\n\"He can't--\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes he can,\" said Preston. \"If he can't he isn't worth his bread and\nsalt. That's it, Sam--hand over hand, and you'll be there directly.\"\n\nSam shewed what he _could_ do, if he did not like it; for he worked\nhimself up the tall tree like a monkey. It was not so large but he could\nclasp it; so after a little rough work on his part and anxious watching\non Daisy's, he got to the branches. But now the line was caught in the\nsmall forks at the leafy end of the branch. Sam lay out upon it as far\nas he dared; he could not reach the line.\n\n\"O he'll fall!\" cried Daisy softly. \"O Preston, let him come down!--he\ncan't get it.\"\n\n\"He'll come to no harm,\" said Preston coolly. \"A little further,\nSam--it's oak wood, it will hold you; a little further, and you will\nhave it--a little further!--\"\n\nAnd Daisy saw that Sam had gone too far. The bough swayed,--Sam made a\nlunge after the line, lost his hold, and the next minute his dark body\nwas falling through the air and splashed into the pool. The water flew\nall over the two fishers who stood by its side; Preston awe-struck for\nthe moment, Daisy white as death. But before either of them could speak\nor move, Sam's head reappeared above water.\n\n\"O get him out! get him out, Preston!\" was Daisy's distressed cry.\nPreston spoke nothing, but he snatched a long stick that lay near and\nheld it out to Sam; and so in a few minutes drew him to the shore and\nhelped him out. Sam went to a little distance and stood dripping with\nwater from head to foot; he did not shake himself as a Newfoundland dog\nwould have done.\n\n\"Are you hurt, Sam?\" said Preston.\n\n\"No, sir--\" Sam answered, in a tone as if he felt very wet.\n\n\"Well, you've cleared the line for me at last,\" said Preston. \"All's\nwell that ends well. Hollo!--here's my hook gone,--broken off, float and\nall. Where's that basket, Sam?\"\n\n\"It's below, sir.\"\n\n\"Below? where? just fetch it here, will you? _This_ misfortune can be\nmended.\"\n\nSam moved off, dripping from every inch of him. \"O Preston,\" said Daisy,\n\"he's all wet as he can be--do let him go right down to that house and\ndry himself! We can get the basket.\"\n\n\"Do him good to move about,\" said Preston. \"Nonsense, Daisy!--a ducking\nlike that won't do anybody any harm in a summer's day.\"\n\n\"I don't think _you'd_ like it,\" said Daisy; \"and all his clothes are\nfull of water, and the sun don't come down here. Tell him to go and get\ndry!\"\n\n\"I will, as soon as I've done with him. Here, Sam--just bend on this\nhook for me, while I see how the brook is further up. I've no time to\nlose,--and then you can go sun yourself somewhere.\"\n\nPreston bounded off; Sam stood with the tackle in hand, silently at\nwork. Daisy sat still on a stone near by, looking at him.\n\n\"Were you hurt, Sam?\" she asked tenderly.\n\n\"No, Miss Daisy.\" This answer was not discontented but stoical.\n\n\"As soon as you have done that, Sam, run down to Mrs. Dipper's, and\nmaybe she can give you something dry to put on while your clothes can be\nhung out.\"\n\nSilence on Sam's part.\n\n\"Have you almost finished that?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Then run off, Sam! Make haste to Mrs. Dipper's and get yourself\ndry--and don't come back till you are quite dry, Sam.\"\n\nSam finished his piece of work, flung down the line, and with a grateful\n\"Thank you, Miss Daisy!\" set off at a bound. Daisy watched him running\nat full speed down the brook till he was out of sight.\n\n\"Has he done it?\" said Preston returning. \"The rascal hasn't put any\nbait on. However, Daisy, it's no use coaxing the trout in _this_ place\nat present--and I haven't found any other good spots for some distance\nup;--suppose we have our lunch and try again?\"\n\n\"O yes!\" said Daisy. \"The other basket is down by my fishing-place--it's\njust as pleasant there, Preston.\"\n\nThey went back to the basket, and a very convenient huge rock was found\non the edge of the brook, which would serve for table and seats too, it\nwas so large and smooth. Preston took his place upon it, and Daisy at\nthe other end with the basket began to unpack.\n\n\"Napkins?\" said Preston--\"you have no right to be so luxurious on a\nfishing party.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Why because a fisher is a kind of a Spartan animal, while he is about\nhis business.\"\n\n\"What kind of an animal is that?\" said Daisy, looking up from her\narrangements. She had set out a plate of delicate rolls, and another\nwith bread and butter folded in, a napkin; and still she paused with her\nhand in the basket.\n\n\"Go on, Daisy. I want to see what comes next.\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Daisy. \"Why, Joanna has made us a lemon pie!\"\n\n\"Capital!\" said Preston. \"And what have you got in that dish?\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Daisy. \"Joanna has put in some jelly for me. What sort of\nan animal is that, Preston?\"\n\n\"It is a sort I shall not be to-day--with jelly and lemon pie. But what\nhas Joanna put in for me? nothing but bread?\"\n\n\"Why there are sandwiches.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Why there! Those rolls are stuffed with meat, Preston.\"\n\n\"Splendid!\" said Preston, falling foul of the rolls immediately. \"What\nsort of an animal is a Spartan? My dear little Daisy, don't you know?\"\n\n\"I don't believe I know anything,\" said Daisy humbly.\n\n\"Don't you want to?\"\n\n\"O yes, Preston! if I had anybody to help me,--I do.\"\n\n\"Well--we'll see. How perfect these sandwiches are! when one's hungry.\"\n\n\"I am hungry too,\" said Daisy. \"I think the sound of the water makes me\nhungry. O I wish I had given Sam some!--I never thought of it. How\nhungry he must be!\"\n\n\"He'll get along,\" said Preston, helping himself to another roll.\n\n\"But how could I forget!\" said Daisy. \"And _he_ did not have a second\nbreakfast either. I am so sorry!\" Daisy's hands fell from her own\ndainties.\n\n\"There is nothing here fit for him,\" said Preston. \"I dare say he has\nhis own pockets full.\"\n\n\"They were full of water, the last thing,\" said Daisy, quaintly.\n\nPreston could not help laughing. \"My dear Daisy,\" he said, \"I hope you\nare not getting soft-hearted on the subject of servants?\"\n\n\"How, Preston?\"\n\n\"Don't;--because it is foolish.\"\n\n\"But Preston,\" said Daisy, looking earnestly at his handsome pleasant\nface which she liked very much,--\"don't you know what the Bible says?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nIt says, \"The rich and the poor meet together; the Lord is the maker of\nthem all.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Preston, \"that don't mean that he made them all alike.\"\n\n\"Then if they are not made alike, what is the difference?\"\n\n\"Good gracious!\" said Preston; \"do you often ask such questions, Daisy?\nI hope you are not going to turn out a Mrs. Child, or a philanthropist,\nor anything of that sort?\"\n\n\"I am not going to be a Mrs. Anybody,\" said Daisy; \"but why don't you\nanswer me?\"\n\n\"Where did you get hold of those words?\"\n\n\"What words?\"\n\n\"Those words that you quoted to me about rich and poor.\"\n\n\"I was reading them this morning.\"\n\n\"In what?\"\n\n\"Why, in the Bible of course,\" said Daisy, with a little check upon her\nmanner.\n\n\"This morning! Before we started! How came you to be reading the Bible\nso early in the morning?\"\n\n\"I like to read it.\"\n\n\"Well, I'd take proper times for reading it,\" said Preston. \"Who set you\nto reading it at five o'clock in the morning?\"\n\n\"Nobody. O Preston, it was a great deal after five o'clock. What are\nproper times for reading it?\"\n\n\"Are you going to cut that lemon pie?--or shall I? Daisy, I thought you\nwere hungry. What is the use of jelly, if you don't eat it? You'll never\ncatch fish at that rate. Fishers must eat.\"\n\n\"But Preston, what do you mean by proper times for reading the Bible?\"\n\n\"Daisy, eat some lemon pie. It's capital. It melts in your mouth. Joanna\nUnderwood is an excellent woman!\"\n\n\"But Preston, what do you mean?\"\n\n\"I don't mean you shall be religious Daisy, if I can help it.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by being religious?\"\n\n\"I declare!\" said Preston, laughing at her grave little face, \"I believe\nyou've begun already. I am come in good time. I won't let you be\nanything but just what you ought to be, Daisy. Come--eat some jelly, or\nsome pie, or something.\"\n\n\"But tell me then, Preston!\" Daisy persisted.\n\n\"It is something ridiculous,--and you would not wish to be ridiculous.\"\n\n\"I do not think I have ever seen ridiculous religious people,\" said\nDaisy steadily; \"and they couldn't be ridiculous _because_ they were\nreligious.\"\n\n\"Couldn't they?\" said Preston. \"Look out well, Daisy--I shall watch you.\nBut they won't like it much down at Melbourne House, Daisy. If I were\nyou, I would stop before you begin.\"\n\nDaisy was silent. One thing was clear, she and Preston were at issue;\nand the value she set upon his favour was very high. She would not risk\nit by contending. Another thing was as clear, that Preston's last words\nwere truth. Among her opposers Daisy must reckon her father and mother,\nif she laid herself open at all to the charge of being \"religious.\" And\nwhat opposition that would be, Daisy did not let herself think. She\nshrunk from it. The lunch was finished, and she set her attention to\npack the remainder of the things back into the basket. Suddenly she\nstopped.\n\n\"Preston, I wish you to consider my words confidential.\"\n\n\"Perfectly!\" said Preston.\n\n\"You are honourable\"--said Daisy.\n\n\"O Daisy, Daisy! you ought to have lived hundreds of years ago! You have\nme under command. Come,\" said he, kissing her grave little face, \"are\nall these things to go in here? Let me help--and then we will go up\nstream.\"\n\nHe helped her with a delicate kind of observance which was not like most\nboys of sixteen, and which Daisy fully relished. It met her notions.\nThen she went to get her fishing-rod which lay fallen into the water.\n\n\"O Preston!\" she exclaimed, \"there is something on it!--it's\nheavy!--it's a fish!\"\n\n\"It _is_ a fish!\" repeated Preston, as a jerk of Daisy's line threw it\nout high and dry on the shore--\"and what's more, it's a splendid one.\nDaisy, you've done it now!\"\n\n\"And papa will have it for breakfast! Preston, put it in a pail of water\ntill we come back. There's that tin pail--we don't want it for\nanything--won't you? O I have caught one!\"\n\nIt was done; and Daisy and Preston set off on a charming walk up the\nbrook; but though they tried the virtue of their bait in various places,\nhowever it was, that trout was the only one caught. Daisy thought it was\na fine day's fishing.\n\nThey found Sam, sound and dry, mounting guard over the tin pail when\nthey came back to it. And I think Daisy held to her own understanding of\nthe text that had been in debate; for there was a fine portion of lemon\npie, jelly and sandwiches, laid by for him in the basket, and by Sam\ndevoured with great appreciation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nJune came the next morning to dress her young mistress as usual. Daisy\nwas not soon done with that business on this particular day; she would\nbreak off, half dressed, and go to lean out of her window. There was a\nhoneysuckle below the window; its dewy sweet smell came up to her, and\nthe breath of the morning was sweet beside in all the trees and leaves\naround; the sun shone on the short turf by glimpses, where the trees\nwould let it. Daisy leaned out of her window. June stood as often\nbefore, with comb and brush in hand.\n\n\"Miss Daisy--it's late.\"\n\n\"June,\" said Daisy,--\"it's Sunday.\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\n\"It'll be hot too,\" Daisy went on. \"June, are you glad when Sunday\ncomes?\"\n\n\"Yes ma'am,\" said June, shifting her position a little.\n\n\"I am,\" said Daisy. \"Jesus is King to-day. To be sure, he is King\nalways; but to-day _everything_ is his.\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy, you won't be dressed.\"\n\nDaisy drew her head in from the window and sat down to submit it to\nJune's brush; but she went on talking.\n\n\"What part of the Bible do you like best to read, June?\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy, will you wear your white muslin, to-day--or the one with\nblue spots?\"\n\n\"White. But tell me, June--which part of the Bible do you like best?\"\n\n\"I like where it tells about all they had to go through\"--June answered,\nrather unwillingly.\n\n\"They?--who?\"\n\n\"The people, Miss Daisy--Christians, I s'pose.\"\n\n\"What did they have to go through?\"\n\n\"Things, ma'am,\" said June very confusedly. \"Miss Daisy, please don't\nturn your head round.\"\n\n\"But what things? and what for? Where is it, June?\"\n\n\"I can't tell--I can find it for you, Miss Daisy. But you won't be\nready.\"\n\nJune however had to risk that and find the chapter; and then Daisy read\nperseveringly all through the rest of her dressing, till it was\nfinished. All the while June was fastening her frock, and tying her\nsash, and lacing her boots, Daisy stood or sat with the Bible in her\nhands and her eyes on the eleventh of Hebrews.\n\n\"June, I wonder when all this happened?\"\n\n\"A great while ago, it's likely, Miss Daisy--but it's good to read\nnow\"--June added but half distinctly, as it was her manner often to\nspeak. Daisy was accustomed to her, and heard it. She did not answer\nexcept by breaking out into the chorus she had learnt from June--\n\n  \"'Die in the field of battle,\n    Die in the field of battle,\n    Die in the field of battle,\n      Glory in your view!'\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy--I wouldn't sing that in the house,\" June ventured. For the\nchild's voice, clear and full, raised the sweet notes to a pitch that\nmight have been heard at least through several of the large rooms. Daisy\nhushed her song.\n\nThe trout was to be for breakfast, and Daisy when she was quite ready\nwent gaily down to see if it would be approved. Her father was engaged\nto eat it all, and he held to his promise; only allowing Daisy herself\nto share with him; and on the whole Daisy and he had a very gay\nbreakfast.\n\n\"It is too hot to do anything,\" said Mrs. Randolph, as the trout was\nvery nearly reduced to a skeleton. \"I shall not go to church this\nmorning.\"\n\nA shade passed over Daisy's face, but she did not look towards her\nmother.\n\n\"If you do not, I can't see why I should,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"The\nburden of setting a good example lies upon you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" said his wife quickly.\n\n\"Nobody will know whether I am there or not.\"\n\n\"Nobody will know that _I_ am there at any rate,\" the lady rejoined.\n\"The heat will be insufferable.\" Mrs. Gary declared herself of the same\nopinion.\n\nAn hour after Daisy came into her mother's room.\n\n\"Mamma, may I go to church with Joanna?\"\n\n\"It's too hot, Daisy.\"\n\n\"No, mamma--I don't mind it. I would like to go.\"\n\n\"Children don't mind anything! Please yourself. But how are you going?\"\n\n\"On foot, mamma; under the shade of the trees. It is nice and shady, all\nthe way.\"\n\n\"It is enough to kill you! But go.\"\n\nSo Daisy's great flat set off alongside of Miss Underwood's Sunday gown\nto walk to church. They set out all right, on the way to the church by\nthe evergreens. Preston Gary was a good deal surprised to find them some\ntime later in another part of the grounds and going in a different\ndirection.\n\n\"Where are you bound, Daisy?\" he asked.\n\n\"To church, Preston.\"\n\n\"Church is the other way.\"\n\n\"Yes, but Mr. Pyne is sick and the church is closed, and we are going\nover to that little church on the other side of the road.\"\n\n\"Why that is a dissenting chapel, isn't it?\"\n\n\"There's no more dissent amongst 'em than there is among other folks!\"\nbroke in Miss Underwood with a good deal of expression. \"I wish all\nother folks and churches was as peaceable and kept as close to their\nbusiness! Anyhow, it's a church, and the other one won't let us in.\"\n\nPreston smiled and stepped back, and to Daisy's satisfaction they met\nwith no further stay. They got to the little church and took their\nplaces in the very front; that place was empty, and Joanna said it was\nthe only one that she could see. The house was full. It was a plain\nlittle church, very neat, but very plain compared with what Daisy was\naccustomed to. So were the people. These were not rich people, not any\nof them, she thought. At least there were no costly bonnets nor\nexquisite lace shawls nor embroidered muslin dresses among them; and\nmany persons that she saw looked absolutely poor. Daisy however did not\nsee this at first; for the service began almost as soon as they entered.\n\nDaisy was very fond of the prayers always in church, but she seldom\ncould make much of the sermon. It was not so to-day. In the first place,\nwhen the prayers and hymns were over, and what Daisy called \"the good\npart\" of the service was done, her astonishment and delight were about\nequal to see Mr. Dinwiddie come forward to speak. It is impossible to\ntell how glad Daisy was; even a sermon she thought she could relish from\nhis lips; but when he began, she forgot all about it's being a sermon.\nMr. Dinwiddie was talking to her and to the rest of the people; that was\nall she knew; he was not looking down at his book, he was looking at\nthem; his eyes were going right through hers. And he did not speak as if\nhe was preaching; his voice sounded exactly as it did every day out of\nchurch. It was delightful. Daisy forgot all about it's being a sermon,\nand only drank in the words with her ears and her heart, and never took\nher eyes from those bright ones that every now and then looked down at\nher. For Mr. Dinwiddie was telling of Him \"who though he was rich yet\nfor our sakes became poor.\" He told how rich he was, in the glories and\nhappiness of heaven, where everything is perfect and all is his. And\nthen he told how Jesus made himself poor; how he left all that glory and\neverything that pleased him; came where everything displeased him; lived\namong sin and sinners; was poor, and despised, and rejected, and treated\nwith every shame, and at last shamefully put to death and his dead body\nlaid in the grave. All this because he loved us; all this because he\nwanted to make us rich, and without his death to buy our forgiveness\nthere was no other way. \"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that\nhe loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.\"\n\nDaisy forgot even Mr. Dinwiddie in thinking of that wonderful One. She\nthought she had never seen before how good he is, or how beautiful; she\nhad never felt how loving and tender Jesus is in his mercy to those that\nseek him, and whom _he_ came to seek first; she never saw \"the kindness\nand love of God our Saviour\" before. As the story went on, again and\nagain Daisy would see a cloud or mist of tears come over the brightness\nof those brilliant eyes; and saw the lips tremble; and Daisy's own eyes\nfilled and ran over and her cheeks were wet with tears, and she never\nknew it!\n\nBut when Mr. Dinwiddie stopped she was so full of gladness in her little\nheart,--gladness that this beautiful Saviour loved her and that she\nloved him, that although if she _could_ have been sorry, she would have\nbeen very sorry that the sermon was over, she was not; she could be\nnothing but glad.\n\nShe thought they were going home then, after the hymn was sung; but in\nher thoughts she had missed some words not spoken by Mr. Dinwiddie. And\nnow she perceived that not only it was sacrament day, which she had\nseen before; but further, that the people who would not share in that\nservice were going, and that Miss Underwood was staying, and by\nconsequence she must stay too. Daisy was pleased. She had never in her\nlife, as it happened, seen the observance of this ordinance; and she\nhad, besides a child's curiosity, a deep, deep interest in all that\nChristians are accustomed to do. Was she not one?\n\nMr. Dinwiddie had spoken about the service and the purpose of it; he\nexplained how the servants of Christ at his command take the bread and\nwine in remembrance of him and what he has done for them; and as a sign\nto all the world that they believe in him and love him, and wait for him\nto come again. Now some prayers were made, and there were spoken some\ngrave words of counsel and warning, which sounded sweet and awful in\nDaisy's ears; and then the people came forward, a part of them, and\nknelt around a low railing which was before the pulpit. As they did\nthis, some voices began to sing a hymn, in a wonderfully sweet and\ntouching music. Daisy was exceedingly fond of every melody and harmony\nthat was worthy the name; and this--plaintive, slow, simple--seemed to\ngo not only through her ears, but down to the very bottom of her heart.\nThey sang but a verse and a chorus; and then after an interval, when\nthose around the railings rose and gave place to others, they sang a\nverse and a chorus again; and this is the chorus that they sang. It\ndwelt in Daisy's heart for many a day; but I can never tell you the\nsweetness of it.\n\n  \"O the Lamb! the loving Lamb!\n     The Lamb on Calvary;\n   The Lamb that was slain, but lives again,\n     To intercede for me.\"\n\nIt seemed to Daisy a sort of paradise while they were singing. Again and\nagain after a pause the notes measuredly rose and fell; and little Daisy\nwho could take no other open part in what was going on, responded to\nthem with her tears. Nobody was looking, she thought; nobody would see.\n\nAt last it was all done; the last verses were sung; the last prayers\nspoken; the little crowd turned to go. Daisy standing behind Joanna in\nthe front place was obliged to wait till the aisle was clear. She had\nturned too when everybody else did, and so was standing with her back to\nthe pulpit, when a hand was laid on her shoulder. The next minute\nDaisy's little fingers were in Mr. Dinwiddie's clasp, and her face was\nlooking joyfully into his.\n\n\"Daisy--I am glad to see you.\"\n\nAnother look, and a slight clasp of her little fingers, answered him.\n\n\"I wish you had been with us just now.\"\n\n\"I am too little--\" was Daisy's humble and regretful reply.\n\n\"Nobody is too little, who is old enough to know what Jesus has done and\nto love him for it, and to be his servant. Do you love him, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Dinwiddie.\"\n\nA very soft but a very clear answer; and so was the answer of the eyes\nraised to his. To Daisy's great joy, he did not let go her hand when\nthey got out of the church. Instead of that, keeping it fast, he allowed\nMiss Underwood to go on a little before them, and then he lingered with\nDaisy along the shady, overarched walks of Melbourne grounds, into which\nthey presently turned. Mr. Dinwiddie lingered purposely, and let Joanna\nget out of hearing. Then he spoke again.\n\n\"If you love Jesus, you want to obey him, Daisy.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Dinwiddie!\"\n\nHe felt the breathless manner of her answer.\n\n\"What will you do, little one, when you find that to obey him, you may\nhave a great deal of hard fighting to go through?\"\n\n\"I'll die on the field of battle, Mr. Dinwiddie.\"\n\nHe looked at her a little curiously. It was no child's boast. Her face\nwas quiet, her eye steady; so had her tone been. It was most unlike\nDaisy to make protestations of feeling; just now she was speaking to the\none person in the world who could help her, whom in this matter she\ntrusted; speaking to him maybe for the last time, she knew; and moreover\nDaisy's heart was full. She spoke as she might live years and not do\nagain, when she said, \"I'll die on the field of battle.\"\n\n\"That is as the Lord pleases,\" returned Mr. Dinwiddie; \"but how will you\n_fight_, Daisy? you are a weak little child. The fight must be won, in\nthe first place.\"\n\n\"Please tell me, Mr. Dinwiddie.\"\n\nHe sat down on a bank and drew Daisy down beside him.\n\n\"In the first place, you must remember that you are the Lord's and that\neverything you have belongs to him; so that his will is the only thing\nto be considered in every case. Is it so, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Dinwiddie! But tell me what you mean, by 'everything I have.'\nThat is what I wanted to know.\"\n\n\"I will tell you presently. In the next place--whenever you know the\nLord's will, don't be afraid, but trust him to help you to do it. He\nalways will, he always can. Only trust him, and don't be afraid.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Dinwiddie!\" Daisy said; but with a gleam on her face which\neven then reflected the light of those words.\n\n\"That's all, Daisy.\"\n\n\"Then Mr. Dinwiddie, please tell me what you mean by 'everything?'\"\n\n\"If you love the Lord, Daisy, you will find out.\"\n\n\"But I am afraid I don't know, Mr. Dinwiddie, what all my talents are.\"\n\n\"He is a wise man that does. But if you love the Lord Jesus with all\nyour heart, you will find that in everything you do you can somehow\nplease him, and that he is first to be pleased.\"\n\nThey looked into each other again, those two faces, with perfect\nunderstanding; grateful content in the child's eyes, watchful tenderness\nin those of Mr. Dinwiddie, through all their keenness and brightness.\nThen, he rose up and offered his hand to Daisy; just said \"good bye,\"\nand was gone, he turned off another way, Daisy followed Miss Underwood's\nsteps. But Joanna had got to the house long before she reached it; and\nDaisy thought herself very happy that nobody saw her come home alone.\nShe got to her own room in safety.\n\nDaisy's heart was full of content. That day was the King's, to be sure;\nthe very air seemed to speak of the love of Jesus, and the birds and the\nsunshine and the honeysuckle repeated the song of \"The Lamb on Calvary.\"\nThere was no going to church a second time; after luncheon, which was\nDaisy's dinner, she had the time all to herself. She sat by her own\nwindow, or sometimes she lay down--for Daisy was not very strong\nyet--but sitting or lying and whatever she was doing, the thought that\nthat King was hers, and that Jesus loved her, made her happy; and the\nhours of the day rolled away as bright as its own sunshine.\n\n\"Well, mouse.\" said her mother when Daisy came down to tea,--\"where have\nyou been? What a mouse you are!\"\n\n\"Intelligent--for a lower order of quadrupeds,\" said Mr. McFarlane.\n\n\"The day has been insufferable!\" said Mrs. Randolph. \"Have you been\nasleep, Daisy?\"\n\n\"No, mamma.\"\n\n\"You were lying down?\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma.\"\n\nDaisy had drawn up close to her mother who had thrown an arm round her.\nThe family were gathered in the library; the windows open, the fresh\nair coming faintly in; the light fading, but no lamps needed yet.\n\n\"I am glad the day is over!\" said Mrs. Gary. \"This morning I did not\nknow how I was going to live through it. There is a little freshness\nnow. Why is it always so much hotter on Sundays than on any other day?\"\n\n\"Because you think about it,\" said Mr. Randolph, who was moving from\nwindow to window setting the glass doors wider open.\n\n\"There is nothing else to think about,\" said Mrs. Randolph with a yawn.\n\"Gary, do bring me a cup of tea.\"\n\n\"You ought to think about your evil deeds,\" said Mr. McFarlane obeying\nthe command. \"Then you would have enough.\"\n\n\"_You_ would, you mean.\"\n\n\"I know it. I speak from experience. I tried it once, for a whole\nafternoon; and you've no idea how good tea-time was when it came!\"\n\n\"What _could_ set you about such a piece of work, Gary?\" said his\nhostess laughing.\n\n\"Conscience, my dear,\" said her sister. \"I am not at all surprised. I\nwonder if anybody has been to church to-day?\"\n\n\"I am sorry for the clergyman, if anybody has,\" remarked Gary.\n\nMrs. Randolph's arm had slipped from Daisy, and Daisy slipped away from\nher mother's sofa to the table; where she dipped sponge biscuits in milk\nand wondered at other people's Sundays. A weight seemed settling down on\nher heart. She could not bear to hear the talk; she eat her supper and\nthen sat down on the threshold of one of the glass doors that looked\ntowards the west, and watched the beautiful colours on the clouds over\nthe mountains; and softly sung to herself the tune she had heard in\nchurch in the morning. So the colours faded away, and the light, and the\ndusk grew on, and still Daisy sat in the window door humming to\nherself. She did not know that Gary McFarlane had stolen up close behind\nher and gone away again.\n\nHe went away just as company came in; some gay neighbours who found the\nevening tempting, and came for a little diversion. Lamps were lit and\ntalking and laughing went round, till Mrs. Randolph asked where Daisy\nwas.\n\n\"In the window, singing to the stars,\" Gary McFarlane whispered. \"Do you\nknow, Mrs. Randolph, how she can sing?\"\n\n\"No,--how? She has a child's voice.\"\n\n\"But not a child's taste or ear,\" said Gary. \"I heard her the other day\nwarbling the gypsy song in 'The Camp in Silesia,' and she did it to\ncaptivation. Do, Mrs. Randolph, ask her to sing it. I was astonished.\"\n\n\"Do!\" said Capt. Drummond; and the request spread and became general.\n\n\"Daisy--\" said Mrs. Randolph. Daisy did not hear; but the call being\nrepeated she came from her window, and after speaking to the strangers,\nwhom she knew, she turned to her mother. The room was all light and\nbright and full of gay talkers.\n\n\"Daisy,\" said her mother, \"I want you to sing that gypsy song from the\n'Camp in Silesia.' Gary says you know it--so he is responsible. _Can_\nyou sing it?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Then sing it. Never mind whether you succeed or not; that is of no\nconsequence.\"\n\n\"Mamma----,\" began Daisy.\n\n\"Well, what?\"\n\nDaisy was in great confusion. What to say to her mother she did not\nknow.\n\n\"No matter how you get along with it,\" repeated Mrs. Randolph. \"That is\nnothing.\"\n\n\"It isn't that, mamma,--but--\"\n\n\"Then sing. No more words, Daisy; sing.\"\n\n\"Mamma, please don't ask me!\"\n\n\"I _have_ asked you. Come Daisy--don't be silly.\"\n\n\"Mamma,\" whispered Daisy trembling, \"I will sing it any other night but\nto-night!\"\n\n\"To-night? what's to-night?\"\n\n\"To-night is Sunday.\"\n\n\"And is that the reason?\"\n\nDaisy stood silent, very much agitated.\n\n\"I'll have no nonsense of the kind, Daisy. Sing immediately!\" But Daisy\nstood still.\n\n\"Do you refuse me?\"\n\n\"Mamma--\" said Daisy pleadingly.\n\n\"Go and fetch me a card from the table.\"\n\nDaisy obeyed. Mrs. Randolph rapidly wrote a word or two on it with a\npencil.\n\n\"But where is the gypsy?\" cried Gary McFarlane.\n\n\"She has not found her voice yet. Take that to your father, Daisy.\"\n\nDaisy's knees literally shook under her as she moved across the room to\nobey this order. Mr. Randolph was sitting at some distance talking with\none of the gentlemen. He broke off when Daisy came up with the card.\n\n\"What is it your mother wishes you to sing?\" he inquired, looking from\nthe writing to the little bearer. Daisy answered very low.\n\n\"A gypsy song from an opera.\"\n\n\"Can you sing it?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Then do so at once, Daisy.\"\n\nThe tone was quiet but imperative. Daisy stood with eyes cast down, the\nblood all leaving her face to reinforce some attacked region. She grew\nwhite from second to second.\n\n\"It is the charge of the Light Brigade,\" said Capt. Drummond to himself.\nHe had heard and watched the whole proceeding and had the key to it. He\nthought good-naturedly to suggest to Daisy an escape from her\ndifficulty, by substituting for the opera song something else that she\n_could_ sing. Rising and walking slowly up and down the room, he hummed\nnear enough for her to hear and catch it, the air of \"Die in the field\nof battle.\" Daisy heard and caught it, but not his suggestion. It was\nthe thought of the _words_ that went to her heart,--not the thought of\nthe tune. She stood as before, only clasped her little hands close upon\nher breast. Capt. Drummond watched her. So did her father, who could\nmake nothing of her.\n\n\"Do you understand me, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Papa--\"\n\n\"Obey me first, and then talk about it.\"\n\nDaisy was in no condition to talk; she could hardly breathe that one\nword. She knew the tone of great displeasure in her father's voice. He\nsaw her condition.\n\n\"You are not able to sing at this minute,\" said he. \"Go to your room--I\nwill give you ten minutes to recover yourself. Then, Daisy, come here\nand sing--if you like to be at peace with me.\"\n\nBut Daisy did not move; she stood there with her two hands clasped on\nher breast.\n\n\"Do you mean that you will not?\" said Mr. Randolph.\n\n\"If it wasn't Sunday, papa--\" came from Daisy's parted lips.\n\n\"Sunday?\" said Mr. Randolph--\"is that it? Now we know where we are.\nDaisy--do you hear me?--turn about and sing your song. Do not give me\nanother refusal!\"\n\nBut Daisy stood, growing paler and paler, till the whiteness reached her\nlips, and her father saw that in another minute she would fall. He\nsnatched her from the floor and placed her upon his knee with his arm\nround her; but though conscious that she was held against his breast,\nDaisy was conscious too that there was no relenting in it; she knew her\nfather; and her deadly paleness continued. Mr. Randolph saw that there\nwould be no singing that night, and that the conflict between Daisy and\nhim must be put off to another day. Making excuse to those near, that\nshe was not well, he took his little daughter in his arms and carried\nher up stairs to her own room. There he laid her on the bed and rang for\nJune, and staid by her till he saw her colour returning. Then without a\nword he left her.\n\nMeanwhile Capt. Drummond, down stairs, had taken a quiet seat in a\ncorner; his talking mood having deserted him.\n\n\"Did I ever walk up to the cannon's mouth like that?\" he said to\nhimself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nDaisy kept herself quite still while her father and June were present.\nWhen Mr. Randolph had gone down stairs, and June seeing her charge\nbetter, ventured to leave her to get some brandy and water, then Daisy\nseized that minute of being alone to allow herself a few secret tears.\nOnce opened, the fountain of tears gushed out a river; and when June\ncame back Daisy was in an agony which prevented her knowing that anybody\nwas with her. In amaze June set down the brandy and water and looked on.\nShe had never in her life seen Daisy so. It distressed her; but though\nJune might be called dull, her poor wits were quick to read some signs;\nand troubled as she was, she called neither Daisy's father nor her\nmother. The child's state would have warranted such an appeal. She never\nheard June's tremulous \"Don't, Miss Daisy!\" She was shaken with the\nsense of the terrible contest she had brought on herself; and grieved to\nthe very depths of her tender little heart that she must bear the\ndispleasure of her father and her mother. She struggled with tears and\nagitation until she was exhausted, and then lay quiet, panting and pale,\nbecause she had no strength to weep longer.\n\n\"Miss Daisy,\" said June, \"drink this.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"It is brandy and water. It is good for you.\"\n\n\"I am not faint. I don't like it.\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy, please! You want something. It will make you feel better\nand put you to sleep.\"\n\nDisregarding the tumbler which June offered, Daisy slowly crawled off\nthe bed and went and kneeled down before her open window, crossing her\narms on the sill. June followed her, with a sort of submissive\npertinacity.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, you want to take some of this, and lie down and go to\nsleep.\"\n\n\"I don't want to go to sleep.\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy, you're weak--won't you take, a little of this, to\nstrengthen you a bit?\"\n\n\"I don't want it, June.\"\n\n\"You'll be sick to-morrow.\"\n\n\"June,\" said Daisy, \"I wish a chariot of fire would come for me!\"\n\n\"Why, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"To take me right up. But I shall not be sick. You needn't be afraid.\nYou needn't stay.\"\n\nJune was too much awed to speak, and dared not disobey. She withdrew;\nand in her own premises stood as Daisy was doing, looking at the\nmoonlight; much wondering that storms should pass over her little white\nmistress such as had often shaken her own black breast. It was\nmysterious.\n\nDaisy did not wish to go to sleep; and it was for fear she should, that\nshe had crawled off the bed, trembling in every limb. For the same\nreason she would not touch the brandy and water. Once asleep, the next\nthing would be morning and waking up; she was not ready for that. So she\nknelt by the window and felt the calm glitter of the moonlight, and\ntried to pray. It was long, long since Daisy had withstood her father or\nmother in anything. She remembered the last time; she knew now they\n_would_ have her submit to them, and now she thought she must not. Daisy\ndared not face the coming day. She would have liked to sit up all night;\nbut her power of keeping even upon her knees was giving way when June\nstole in behind her, too uneasy to wait for Daisy's ring.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, you'll be surely sick to-morrow, and Mis' Randolph will\nthink I ought to be killed.\"\n\n\"June, didn't the minister say this morning--\"\n\n\"What minister?\"\n\n\"O it wasn't you,--it was Joanna. Where is Joanna? I want to see her.\"\n\n\"Most likely she's going to bed, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"No matter--I want to see her. Go and tell her, June--no matter if she\nis in her night-gown,--tell her I want to speak to her one minute.\"\n\nJune went, and Daisy once more burst into tears. But she brushed them,\naside when Joanna came back with June a few minutes after.\n\n\"Joanna--didn't the minister say this morning, that when we are doing\nwhat Jesus tells us, he will help us through?\"\n\n\"It's true,\" said Joanna, looking startled and troubled at the pale\nlittle tear-stained face lifted to her;--\"but I don't just know as that\nminister said it this morning.\"\n\n\"Didn't he?\"\n\n\"Why it's true, Miss Daisy; for I've heard other ministers say it; but\nthat one this morning was preaching about something else--don't you\nknow?\"\n\n\"Was he? Didn't he say that?\"\n\n\"Why no, Miss Daisy; he was preaching about how rich----\"\n\n\"O I know!\" said Daisy--\"I remember; yes, it wasn't then--it was\nafterwards. Yes, he said it--I knew it--but it wasn't in his sermon.\nThank you, Joanna--that's all; I don't want you any more.\"\n\n\"What ails her?\" whispered Joanna, when June followed her out with a\nlight.\n\nBut June knew her business better than to tell her little mistress's\nsecrets; and her face shewed no more of them, than it shewed of her own.\nWhen she returned, Daisy was on her knees, with her face hidden in her\nhands, at the foot of the bed.\n\nJune stopped; and the little white figure there looked so slight, the\nattitude of the bended head was so childlike and pitiful, that the\nmulatto woman's face twinkled and twitched in a way most unwonted to its\nusual stony lines. She never stirred till Daisy rose up and submissively\nallowed herself to be put to bed; and then waited on her with most\nreverent gentleness.\n\nSo she did next morning. But Daisy was very pale, and trembled\nfrequently, June noticed; and when she was dressed sat down patiently by\nthe window. She was not going down, to breakfast, she told June; and\nJune went away to her own breakfast, very ill satisfied.\n\nBreakfast was brought up to Daisy, as she expected; and then she waited\nfor her summons. She could not eat much. The tears were very ready to\nstart, but Daisy kept them back. It did not suit her to go weeping into\nher father and mother's presence, and she had self command enough to\nprevent it. She could not read; yet she turned over the pages of her\nBible to find some comfort. She did not know or could not remember just\nwhere to look for it; and at last turned to the eleventh of Hebrews, and\nwith her eye running over the record there of what had been done and\nborne for Christ's sake, felt her own little heart beating hard in its\nown trial.\n\nJune came at length to call her to her mother's room.\n\nMrs. Randolph was half lying on a couch, a favourite position; and her\neye was full on Daisy as she came in. Daisy stopped at a little\ndistance; and June took care to leave the door ajar.\n\n\"Daisy,\" said Mrs. Randolph, \"I want in the first place an explanation\nof last night's behaviour.\"\n\n\"Mamma, I am very sorry to have offended you!\" said Daisy, pressing both\nhands together upon her breast to keep herself quiet.\n\n\"Looks like it,\" said Mrs. Randolph; and yet she did see and feel the\neffect of the night's work upon the child. \"Go on;--tell me why you\ndisobeyed me last night.\"\n\n\"It was Sunday--\" said Daisy softly.\n\n\"Sunday!--well, what of that? what of Sunday?\"\n\n\"That song--wasn't a Sunday song.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by a Sunday song?\"\n\n\"I mean\"--Daisy was on dangerous ground, and she knew it,--\"I mean, one\nof those songs that God likes to hear people sing on his day.\"\n\n\"Who is to be judge?\" said Mrs. Randolph,--\"you or I?\"\n\n\"Mamma,\" said Daisy, \"I will do everything else in the world you tell\nme!\"\n\n\"You will have to do everything else and this too. Isn't there a\ncommandment about children obeying their mothers?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\n\"That is the very first commandment I mean you shall obey,\" said Mrs.\nRandolph, rousing herself enough to bring one foot to the floor. \"You\nhave no business to think whether a thing is right or wrong, that I\norder you to do; if I order it, that makes it right; and anybody but a\nfool would tell you so. You will sing that song from the 'Camp in\nSilesia' for me next Sunday evening, or I will whip you, Daisy--you may\ndepend upon it. I have done it before, and I will again; and you know I\ndo not make believe. Now go to your father.\"\n\n\"Where is he, mamma?\" said Daisy, with a perceptible added paleness in\nher cheek.\n\n\"I don't know. In the library, I suppose.\"\n\nTo the library Daisy went, with trembling steps, in great uncertainty\nwhat she was to expect from her father. It was likely enough that he\nwould say the same as her mother, and insist on the act of submission to\nbe gone through next Sunday; but Daisy had an inward consciousness that\nher father was likely to come to a point with her sooner than that. It\ncame even sooner than she expected.\n\nMr. Randolph was pacing up and down the library when Daisy slowly opened\nthe door. No one else was there. He stopped when she came in, and stood\nlooking at her as she advanced towards him.\n\n\"Daisy, you disobeyed me last night.\"\n\n\"Yes, papa,--but--\"\n\n\"I have but one answer for that sort of thing,\" said Mr. Randolph,\ntaking a narrow ruler from the library table. \"Give me your hand!\"\n\nDaisy gave it, with a very vague apprehension of what he was about to\ndo. The sharp, stinging stroke of the ruler the next moment upon her\nopen palm, made her understand very thoroughly. It drew from her one cry\nof mixed pain and terror; but after that first forced exclamation Daisy\ncovered her face with her other hand and did not speak again. Tears,\nthat she could not help, came plentifully; for the punishment was\nsufficiently severe, and it broke her heart that her father should\ninflict it; but she stood perfectly still, only for the involuntary\nwincing that was beyond her control, till her hand was released and the\nruler was thrown down. Heart and head bowed together then, and Daisy\ncrouched down on the floor where she stood, unable either to stand or to\nmove a step away.\n\n\"There! That account's settled!\" said Mr. Randolph as he flung down his\nruler. And the next moment his hands came softly about Daisy and lifted\nher from the floor and placed her on his knee; and his arms were wrapped\ntenderly round her. Daisy almost wished he had let her alone; it seemed\nto her that her sorrow was more than she could bear.\n\n\"Is your heart almost broken?\" said Mr. Randolph softly, as he felt\nrather than heard the heavy sobs so close to him. But to speak was an\nimpossibility, and so he knew, and did not repeat his question; only he\nheld Daisy fast, and it was in his arms that she wept out the first\novercharged fulness of her heart. It was a long time before she could\nquiet those heavy sobs; and Mr. Randolph sat quite still holding her.\n\n\"Is your heart quite broken?\" he whispered again, when he judged that\nshe could speak. Daisy did not speak, however. She turned, and rising\nupon her knees, threw her arms round her father's neck and hid her soft\nlittle head there. If tears came Mr. Randolph could not tell; he thought\nhis neck was wet with them. He let her alone for a little while.\n\n\"Daisy----\"\n\n\"Papa----\"\n\n\"Can you talk to me?\"\n\nDaisy sank back into her former position. Her father put his lips down\nto hers for a long kiss.\n\n\"That account is settled,\" said he; \"do you understand? Now Daisy, tell\nme what was the matter last night.\"\n\n\"Papa, it was Sunday night.\"\n\n\"Yes. Well?\"\n\n\"And that song--that mamma wanted me to sing\"--Daisy spoke very\nlow,--\"was out of an opera; and it was good for any other day, but not\nfor Sunday.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\nDaisy hesitated, and at last said, \"It had nothing to do with Sunday,\npapa.\"\n\n\"But obedience is not out of place on Sunday, is it?\"\n\n\"No, papa,--except----\"\n\n\"Well, except what?\"\n\n\"Papa, if God tells me to do one thing, and you tell me another, what\nshall I do?\" Daisy had hid her face in her father's breast.\n\n\"What counter command have you to plead in this case?\"\n\n\"Papa, may I shew it to you?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\nShe got down off his lap, twinkling away a tear hastily, and went to the\nbookcase for the big Bible aforesaid. Mr. Randolph seeing what she was\nafter and that she could not lift it, went to her help and brought it to\nthe library table. Daisy turned over the leaves with fingers that\ntrembled yet, hastily, hurriedly; and paused and pointed to the words\nthat her father read.\n\n\"Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath day.\"\n\nMr. Randolph read them and the words following and the words that went\nbefore; then he turned from them and drew Daisy to her place in his arms\nagain.\n\n\"Daisy, there is another commandment there. 'Honour thy father and thy\nmother.' Is there not?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa.\"\n\n\"Is not one command as good as the other?\"\n\n\"Papa, I think not,\" said Daisy. \"One command tells me to obey you,--the\nother tells me to obey God.\"\n\nChildish as the answer was, there was truth in it; and Mr. Randolph\nshifted his ground.\n\n\"Your mother will not be satisfied without your obeying the lesser\ncommand--nor shall I!\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"She will expect you to do next Sunday evening what you refused to do\nlast evening.\"\n\nStill silence, but a shiver ran over Daisy's frame.\n\n\"Do you know it?\" said Mr. Randolph, noticing also that Daisy's cheek\nhad grown a shade paler than it was.\n\n\"Papa--I wish I could die!\" was the answer of the child's agony.\n\n\"Do you mean that you will not obey her, Daisy?\"\n\n\"How can I, papa? how can I!\" exclaimed Daisy.\n\n\"Do you think that song is so very bad, Daisy?\"\n\n\"No. papa, it is very good for other days; but it is not _holy_.\" Her\naccent struck strangely upon Mr. Randolph's ear; and sudden contrasts\nrushed together oddly in his mind.\n\n\"Daisy, do you know that you are making yourself a judge of right and\nwrong? Over your mother and over me?\"\n\nDaisy hid her face again in his breast; what could she answer? Mr.\nRandolph unfolded the little palm swollen and blistered from the marks\nof his ruler.\n\n\"Why did you offend me, Daisy?\" he said gravely.\n\n\"Oh papa!\" said Daisy beside herself,--\"I didn't--I couldn't--I\nwouldn't, for anything in the world! But I couldn't offend the Lord\nJesus!\"\n\nShe was weeping again bitterly.\n\n\"That will not do,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"You must find a way to reconcile\nboth duties. I shall not take an alternative.\" But after that he said no\nmore and only applied himself to soothing Daisy; till she sat drooping\nin his arms, but still and calm. She started when the sound of steps and\nvoices came upon the verandah.\n\n\"Papa, may I go?\"\n\nHe let her go, and watched her measured steps through the long room, to\nthe door, and heard the bound they made as soon as she was outside of\nit. He rang the bell and ordered June to be called.\n\nShe came.\n\n\"June,\" said Mr. Randolph, \"I think Daisy wants to be taken care of\nto-day--I wish you would not lose sight of her.\"\n\nJune courtesied her obedience.\n\nA few minutes afterwards her noiseless steps entered Daisy's room.\nJune's footfall was never heard about the house. As noiseless as a\nshadow she came into a room; as stealthily as a dark shadow she went\nout. Her movements were always slow; and whether from policy or caution\noriginally, her tread would not waken a sleeping mouse. So she came into\nher little mistress's chamber now. Daisy was there, at her bureau,\nbefore an open drawer; as June advanced, she saw that a great stock of\nlittle pairs of gloves was displayed there, of all sorts, new and old;\nand Daisy was trying to find among them one that would do for her\npurpose. One after another was tried on the fingers of her right hand,\nand thrown aside; and tears were running over the child's cheeks and\ndropping into the drawer all the time. June came near, with a sort of\nanxious look on her yellow face. It was strangely full of wrinkles and\nlines, that generally never stirred to express or reveal anything.\nSuddenly she exclaimed, but June's very exclamations were in a smothered\ntone.\n\n\"O Miss Daisy! what have you done to your hand?\"\n\n\"I haven't done anything to it,\" said Daisy, trying furtively to get rid\nof her tears,--\"but I want a glove to put on, June, and they are all too\nsmall. Is Cecilia at work here to-day?\"\n\n\"Yes, Miss Daisy; but let me look at your hand!--let me put some\nliniment on.\"\n\n\"No, I don't want it,\" said Daisy; and June saw the suppressed sob that\nwas not allowed to come out into open hearing;--\"but June, just rip that\nglove, will you, here in the side seam; and then ask Cecilia to make a\nstrip of lace-work there--so that I can get it on.\" Daisy drew a fur\nglove over the wounded hand as she spoke; it was the only one large\nenough; and put on her flat hat.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, Mr. Randolph said I was to go with you anywhere you\nwent--to take care of you.\"\n\n\"Then come down to the beach, June; I'll be there.\"\n\nDaisy stole down stairs and slipped out of the first door she came to.\nWhat she wanted was to get away from seeing anybody; she did not wish to\nsee her mother, or Preston, or Capt. Drummond, or Ransom; and she meant\neven if possible to wander off and not be at home for dinner. She could\nnot bear the thought of the dinner-table with all the faces round it.\nShe stole out under the shrubbery, which soon hid her from view of the\nhouse.\n\nIt was a very warm day, the sun beating hot wherever it could touch at\nall. Daisy went languidly along under cover of the trees, wishing to go\nfaster, but not able, till she reached the bank. There she waited for\nJune to join her, and together they went down to the river shore. Safe\nthere from pursuit, on such a day, Daisy curled herself down in the\nshade with her back against a stone, and then began to think. She felt\nvery miserable; not merely for what had passed, but for a long stretch\nof trouble that she saw lying before her. Indeed where or how it was to\nend, Daisy had no idea. Her father indeed, she felt pretty sure would\nnot willingly allow his orders to come in conflict with what she thought\nher duty; though if he happened to do it unconsciously,--Daisy would not\nfollow that train of thought. But here she was now, at this moment,\nengaged in a trial of strength with her mother; very unequal, for Daisy\nfelt no power at all for the struggle,--and yet she could not yield!\nWhere was it to end? and how many other like occasions of difference\nmight arise, even after this one should somehow have been settled? Had\nthe joy of being a servant of Jesus so soon brought trouble with it?\nDaisy had put the trunk of a large tree between her and June; but the\nmulatto woman where she sat heard the stifled sobs of the child. June's\nitems of intelligence picked up by eye and ear, had given her by this\ntime an almost reverent feeling towards Daisy; she regarded her as\nhardly earthly; nevertheless this sort of distress must not be suffered\nto go on, and she was appointed to prevent it.\n\n\"Miss Daisy--it is luncheon time,\" she said without moving. Daisy gave\nno response. June waited and then came before her and repeated her\nwords.\n\n\"I am not going in.\"\n\n\"But you want your dinner, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"No, I don't, June. I don't want to go in.\"\n\nJune looked at her a minute. \"I'll get you your luncheon out here, Miss\nDaisy. You'll be faint for want of something to eat. Will you have it\nout here?\"\n\n\"You needn't say where I am, June.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nJune went off, and Daisy was left alone. Very weary and exhausted, she\nsat leaning her head against the stone at her side, in a sort of\ndespairing quiet. The little ripple of the water on the pebbly shore\nstruck her ear; it was the first thing eye or ear had perceived to be\npleasant that day. Daisy's thoughts went to the hand that had made the\nglittering river, with all its beauties and wonders; then they went to\nwhat Mr. Dinwiddie had said, that God will help his people when they are\ntrying to do any difficult work for him; he will take care of them; he\nwill not forsake them. Suddenly it filled Daisy's soul like a flood,\nthe thought that Jesus _loves_ his people; that she was his little child\nand that he loved her; and all his wisdom and power and tenderness were\nround her and would keep her. Her trouble seemed to be gone, or it was\nlike a cloud with sunlight shining all over it. The very air was full of\nmusic, to Daisy's feeling, not her sense. There never was such sunlight,\nor such music either, as this feeling of the love of Jesus. Daisy\nkneeled down by the rock and rested her forehead against it, to pray for\njoy.\n\nShe was there still, when June came back and stopped and looked at her,\na vague expression of care sitting in her black eyes, into which now an\nunwonted moisture stole. June had a basket, and as soon as Daisy sat\ndown again, she came up and began to take things out of it. She had\nbrought everything for Daisy's dinner. There was a nice piece of\nbeefsteak, just off the gridiron; and rice and potatoes; and a fine bowl\nof strawberries for dessert. June had left nothing; there was the roll\nand the salt, and a tumbler and a carafe of water. She set the other\nthings about Daisy, on the ground and on the rock, and gave the plate of\nbeefsteak into her hand.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, what will you do for a table?\"\n\n\"It's nicer here than a table. How good you are, June. I didn't know I\nwanted it.\"\n\n\"I know you do, Miss Daisy.\"\n\nAnd she went to her sewing, and sewed perseveringly, while Daisy eat her\ndinner.\n\n\"June, what o'clock is it?\"\n\n\"It's after one, ma'am.\"\n\n\"You haven't had your own dinner?\"\n\nJune mumbled something, of which nothing could be understood except that\nit was a general abnegation of all desire or necessity for dinner on her\nown part.\n\n\"But you have not had it?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"No, ma'am. They've done dinner by this time.\"\n\n\"June, I have eaten up all the beefsteak--there is nothing left but some\npotato and rice and strawberries; but you shall have some strawberries.\"\n\nJune in vain protested. Daisy divided the strawberries into two parts,\nsugared them both, broke the remaining roll in two, and obliged June to\ntake her share. When this was over, Daisy seated herself near June and\nlaid her head against her knee. She could hardly hold it up.\n\n\"June,\"--she said presently, \"I think those people in the eleventh\nchapter of Hebrews--you know?\"\n\n\"Yes, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"I think they were very happy, because they knew that Jesus loved them.\"\n\nJune made no audible answer; she mumbled something; and Daisy sat still.\nPresently her soft breathing made June look over at her; Daisy was\nasleep. In her hand, in her lap, lay a book. June looked yet further, to\nsee what book it was. It was Mr. Dinwiddie's Bible. June sat up and went\non with her work, but her face twitched.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\nDaisy was at the dinner-table. After having a good sleep on June's knee,\nshe had come home and dressed as usual, and she was in her place when\nthe dessert was brought on. Mr. Randolph from his distant end of the\ntable watched her a little; he saw that she behaved just as usual; she\ndid not shun anybody, though her mother shunned her. A glove covered her\nright hand, yet Daisy persisted in using that hand rather than attract\nnotice, though from the slowness of her movements it was plain it cost\nher some trouble. Gary McFarlane asked why she had a glove on, and Mr.\nRandolph heard Daisy's perfectly quiet and true answer, that \"her hand\nwas wounded, and had to wear a glove,\"--given without any confusion or\nevasion. He called his little daughter to him, and giving her a chair by\nhis side, spent the rest of _his_ time in cracking nuts and preparing a\nbanana for her; doing it carelessly, not as if she needed but as if it\npleased him to give her his attention.\n\nAfter dinner Daisy sought Preston, who was out on the lawn, as he said,\nto cool himself; in the brightness of the setting sun to be sure, but\nalso in a sweet light air which was stirring.\n\n\"Phew! it's hot. And you, Daisy, don't look as if the sun and you had\nbeen on the same side of the earth to-day. What do you want now?\"\n\n\"I want a good talk with you, Preston.\"\n\n\"I was going to say 'fire up,'\" said Preston, \"but no, don't do\nanything of that sort! If there is any sort of talking that has a chilly\neffect, I wish you'd use it.\"\n\n\"I have read of such talk, but I don't think I know how to do it,\" said\nDaisy. \"I read the other day of somebody's being 'frozen with a look.'\"\n\nPreston went off into a fit of laughter and rolled himself over on the\ngrass, declaring that it was a splendid idea; then he sat up and asked\nDaisy again what she wanted? Daisy cast a glance of her eye to see that\nnobody was too near.\n\n\"Preston, you know you were going to teach me.\"\n\n\"O, ay!--about the Spartans.\"\n\n\"I want to learn everything,\" said Daisy. \"I don't know much.\"\n\nPreston looked at the pale, delicate child, whose doubtful health he\nknew had kept her parents from letting her \"know much\"; and it was no\nwonder that when he spoke again, he used a look and manner that were\ncaressing, and even tender.\n\n\"What do you want to know, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I want to know everything,\" whispered Daisy; \"but I don't know what to\nbegin at.\"\n\n\"No!\" said Preston,--\"'everything' seems as big as the world, and as\nhard to get hold of.\"\n\n\"I want to know geography,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes. Well--you shall. And you shall not study for it neither; which you\ncan't.\"\n\n\"Yes I can.\"\n\n\"No you can't. You are no more fit for it, little Daisy--but look here!\nI wish you would be a red daisy.\"\n\n\"Then what else, Preston?\"\n\n\"Nothing else. Geography is enough at once.\"\n\n\"O no, it isn't. Preston, I can't do the least little bit of a sum in\nthe world.\"\n\n\"Can't you? Well--I don't see that that is of any very great\nconsequence. What sums do _you_ want to do?\"\n\n\"But I want to know how.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Why Preston, you know I _ought_ to know how. It might be very useful,\nand I ought to know.\"\n\n\"I hope it will never be of any use to you,\" said Preston; \"but you can\nlearn the multiplication table if you like.\"\n\n\"Then will you shew it to me?\"\n\n\"Yes; but what has put you in such a fever of study, little Daisy? It\nexcites me, this hot weather.\"\n\n\"Then won't you come in and shew me the multiplication table now,\nPreston?\"\n\nIn came Preston laughing, and found an arithmetic for Daisy; and Daisy,\nnot laughing, but with a steady seriousness, sat down on the verandah in\nthe last beams of the setting sun to learn that \"twice two is four.\"\n\nThe same sort of sweet seriousness hung about all her movements this\nweek. To those who knew what it meant, there was something extremely\ntouching in the gentle gravity with which she did everything, and the\ngrace of tenderness which she had for everybody. Daisy was going through\ngreat trouble. Not only the trouble of what was past, but the ordeal of\nwhat was to come. It hung over her like a black cloud, and her fears\nwere like muttering thunder. But the sense of right, the love of the\nMaster in whose service she was suffering, the trust in his guiding\nhand, made Daisy walk with that strange, quiet dignity between the one\nSunday and the other. Mr. Randolph fancied sometimes when she was\nlooking down, that he saw the signs of sadness about her mouth; but\nwhenever she looked up again, he met such quiet, steady eyes, that he\nwondered. He was puzzled; but it was no puzzle that Daisy's cheeks grew\nevery day paler, and her appetite less.\n\n\"I do not wish to flatter you\"--said Mrs. Gary one evening--\"but that\nchild has very elegant manners! Really, I think they are very nearly\nperfect. I don't believe there is an English court beauty who could\nshew better.\"\n\n\"The English beauty would like to be a little more robust in her\ngraces,\" remarked Gary McFarlane.\n\n\"That is all Daisy wants,\" her aunt went on; \"but that will come, I\ntrust, in time.\"\n\n\"Daisy would do well enough,\" said Mrs. Randolph, \"if she could get some\nnotions out of her head.\"\n\n\"What, you mean her religious notions? How came she by them, pray?\"\n\n\"Why there was a person here--a connexion of Mrs. Sandford's--that set\nup a Sunday school in the woods; and Daisy went to it for a month or\ntwo, before I thought anything about it, or about him. Then I found she\nwas beginning to ask questions, and I took her away.\"\n\n\"Is asking questions generally considered a sign of danger?\" said Gary\nMcFarlane.\n\n\"What was that about her singing the other night?\" said Mrs. Gary--\"that\nhad something to do with the same thing, hadn't it?\"\n\n\"Refused to sing an opera song because it was Sunday.\"\n\n\"Ridiculous!\" said Mrs. Gary. \"I'll try to make her see it so\nherself--if I get a chance. She is a sensible child.\"\n\nMr. Randolph was walking up and down the room, and had not spoken a\nword. A little time after he found himself nearly alone with Mrs.\nRandolph, the others having scattered away. He paused near his wife's\nsofa.\n\n\"Daisy is failing,\" he said. \"She has lost more this week than she had\ngained in the two months before.\"\n\nMrs. Randolph made no answer, and did not even move her handsome head,\nor her delicate hands.\n\n\"Can't you get out of this business, Felicia?\"\n\n\"In the way that I said I would. You expect your words to be obeyed, Mr.\nRandolph; and I expect it for mine.\"\n\nMr. Randolph resumed his walk.\n\n\"Daisy has got some things in her head that must get out of it. I would\nas lieve not have a child, as not to have her mind me.\"\n\nMr. Randolph passed out upon the verandah, and continuing his walk\nthere, presently came opposite the windows of the library. There he saw\nDaisy seated at the table, reading. Her hand was over her brow, and Mr.\nRandolph did not feel satisfied with the sober lines of the little mouth\nupon which the lamplight shone. Once too, Daisy's head went down upon\nher book and lay there a little while. Mr. Randolph did not feel like\ntalking to her just then, or he would have liked to go in and see what\nshe was studying. But while he stood opposite the window, Capt. Drummond\ncame into the library.\n\n\"You here, Daisy! What are you busy about?\" he said kindly. \"What are\nyou studying now?\"\n\n\"I am reading the History of England, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\n\"How do you like it?\"\n\n\"I have not got very far. I do not like it very much.\"\n\n\"Where are you?\"\n\n\"I have just got to where it tells about Alfred.\"\n\n\"Why do you read it, Daisy? Is it a lesson?\"\n\n\"No, Capt. Drummond,--but--I think proper to read it.\"\n\n\"It is proper,\" said the Captain. \"Come, Daisy,--suppose we go down on\nthe sand-beach to-morrow, and we will play out the Saxon Heptarchy there\nas we played out the Crimea. Shall we?\"\n\nDaisy's face changed. \"O thank you, Capt. Drummond!--that will be nice!\nShall we?\"\n\n\"If you will, I will,\" said the Captain.\n\nMr. Randolph moved away.\n\nThe next day after luncheon, Daisy followed her father when he left the\ntable. She followed till they were got quite away from other ears.\n\n\"Papa, I would like to go to Mrs. Harbonner's again. You said I must not\ngo without leave.\"\n\n\"Who is Mrs. Harbonner?\"\n\n\"Papa, it is the place where I took the ham,--do you remember? Joanna\nhas enquired about her, and found that she is respectable.\"\n\n\"What do you want to go there again for, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Joanna has found some work for her, papa. She would not have the ham\nunless she could work to pay for it. I want to see her to tell her about\nit.\"\n\nMr. Randolph had it on his tongue to say that somebody else might do\nthat; but looking down at Daisy, the sight of the pale face and hollow\neyes stopped him. He sat down and drew Daisy up to his side.\n\n\"I will let you go.\"\n\n\"Thank you, papa!\"\n\n\"Do you know,\" said Mr. Randolph, \"that your mother is going to ask you\nto sing that song again when Sunday evening comes?\"\n\nThe smile vanished from Daisy's face; it grew suddenly dark; and a\nshuddering motion was both seen and felt by Mr. Randolph, whose arm was\nround her.\n\n\"Daisy,\" said he, not unkindly, \"do you know that I think you a little\nfool?\"\n\nShe lifted her eyes quickly, and in their meeting with her father's\nthere was much; much that Mr. Randolph felt without stopping to analyze,\nand that made his own face as suddenly sober as her own. There was no\nfolly in that quick grave look of question or appeal; it seemed to carry\nthe charge in another direction.\n\n\"You think it is not right to sing such a song on a Sunday?\" he asked.\n\n\"No, papa.\"\n\n\"But suppose, by singing it, you could do a great deal of good, instead\nof harm?\"\n\n\"How, papa?\"\n\n\"I will give you a hundred dollars for singing it,--which you may spend\nas you please for all the poor people about Melbourne or Crum Elbow.\"\n\nIt was very singular to him to see the changes in Daisy's face. Light\nand shadow came and went with struggling quickness. He expected her to\nspeak, but she waited for several minutes; then she said in a troubled\nvoice,--\"Papa, I will think of it.\"\n\n\"Is that all, Daisy?\" said Mr. Randolph, disappointed.\n\n\"I am going to Mrs. Harbonner's, papa, and I will think, and tell you.\"\n\nMr. Randolph was inclined to frown and suspect obstinacy; but the meek\nlittle lips which offered themselves for a kiss disarmed him of any such\nthought. He clasped Daisy in his arms and gave her kisses, many a one,\nclose and tender. If he had known it, he could have done nothing better\nfor the success of his plan; under the pressure of conscience Daisy\ncould bear trouble in doing right, but the argument of affection went\nnear to trouble her conscience. Daisy was obliged to compound for a good\nmany tears, before she could get away and begin her drive. And when she\ndid, her mind was in a flutter. A hundred dollars! how much good could\nbe done with a hundred dollars. Why would it not be right to do\nsomething, even sing such a song on Sunday, when it was sung for such a\npurpose and with such results? But Daisy could not feel quite sure about\nit; while at the same time the prospect of getting quit of her\ndifficulties by this means--escaping her mother's anger and the\npunishment with which it was sure to be accompanied, and also pleasing\nher father--shook Daisy's very soul. What should she do? She had not\nmade up her mind when she got to the little brown house where Mrs.\nHarbonner lived.\n\nShe found mother and daughter both in the little bare room; the child\nsitting on the floor and cutting pieces of calico and cloth into strips,\nwhich her mother was sewing together with coarse thread. Both looked\njust as when Daisy had seen them before--slim, and poor and uncombed;\nbut the room was clean.\n\n\"I thought you warn't coming again,\" said Mrs. Harbonner.\n\n\"I couldn't come till to-day,\" said Daisy, taking a chair. \"I came as\nsoon as I could.\" Partly from policy, partly because she felt very\nsober, she left it to Mrs. Harbonner to do most of the talking.\n\n\"I never see more'n a few folks that thought much of doing what they\nsaid they'd do--without they found their own account in it. If I was\nliving in a great house, now, I'd have folks enough come to see me.\"\n\nDaisy did not know what answer to make to this, so she made none.\n\n\"I used to live in a better house once,\" went on Mrs. Harbonner; \"I\ndidn't always use to eat over a bare floor. I was well enough, if I\ncould ha' let well alone; but I made a mistake, and paid for it; and\nwhat's more, I'm paying for it yet. 'Taint _my_ fault, that Hephzibah\nsits there cuttin' rags, instead of going to school.\"\n\nAgain Daisy did not feel herself called upon to decide on the mistakes\nof Mrs. Harbonner's past life; and she sat patiently waiting for\nsomething else that she could understand.\n\n\"What are you come to see me for now?\" said the lady. \"I suppose you're\ngoing to tell me you haven't got no work for me to do, and I must owe\nyou for that ham?\"\n\n\"I have got something for you to do,\" said Daisy. \"The boy has got it at\nthe gate. The housekeeper found some clothes to make--and you said that\nwas your work.\"\n\n\"Tailoring,\" said Mrs. Harbonner. \"I don't know nothing about women's\nfixtures,--except what'll keep me and Hephzibah above the savages. I\ndon't suppose I could dress a doll so's it would sell.\"\n\n\"This is tailoring work,\" said Daisy. \"It is a boy's suit--and there\nwill be more to do if you like to have it.\"\n\n\"Where is it? at the gate, did you say? Hephzibah, go and fetch it in.\nWho's got it?\"\n\n\"The boy who is taking care of the horses.\"\n\n\"I declare, have you got that little covered shay there again?--it's\ncomplete! I never see a thing so pretty! And Hephzibah says you drive\nthat little critter yourself. Ain't you afraid?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" said Daisy. \"The pony won't do any harm.\"\n\n\"He looks skeery,\" said Mrs. Harbonner. \"I wouldn't trust him. What a\ntremenjious thick mane he's got! Well, I s'pect you have everything you\nwant, don't you?\"\n\n\"Of such things--\" said Daisy.\n\n\"That's what I meant. Gracious! I s'pose every one of us has\nwishes--whether they are in the air or on the earth. Wishes is the\nbutter to most folks' bread. Here, child.\"\n\nShe took the bundle from Hephzibah, unrolled it, and examined its\ncontents with a satisfied face.\n\n\"What did _you_ come along with this for?\" she said suddenly to Daisy.\n\"Why didn't you send it?\"\n\n\"I wanted to come and see you,\" said Daisy pleasantly.\n\n\"What ails you? You ain't so well as when you was here before,\" said\nMrs. Harbonner, looking at her narrowly.\n\n\"I am well,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"You ain't fur from bein' something else then. I suppose you're dyin'\nwith learning--while my Hephzibah can't get schooling enough to read her\nown name. That's the way the world's made up!\"\n\n\"Isn't there a school at Crum Elbow?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Isn't there! And isn't there a bench for the rags? No, my Hephzibah\ndon't go to shew none.\"\n\nMrs. Harbonner was so sharp and queer, though not unkindly towards\nherself, that Daisy was at a loss how to go on; and moreover, a big\nthought began to turn about in her head.\n\n\"Poverty ain't no shame, but it's an inconvenience,\" said Mrs.\nHarbonner. \"Hephzibah may stay to home and be stupid, when she's as much\nright to be smart as anybody. That's what I look at; it ain't having a\nlittle to eat now and then.\"\n\n\"Melbourne is too far off for her to get there, isn't it?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"What should she go there for?\"\n\n\"If she could get there,\" said Daisy, \"and would like it,--I would teach\nher.\"\n\n\"_You_ would?\" said Mrs. Harbonner. \"What would you learn her?\"\n\n\"I would teach her to read,\" said Daisy, colouring a little; \"and\nanything else I could.\"\n\n\"La, she can read,\" said Mrs. Harbonner, \"but she don't know nothing,\nfor all that. Readin' don't tell a person much, without he has books. I\nwonder how long it would hold out, if you begun? 'Taint no use to begin\na thing and then not go on.\"\n\n\"But could she get to Melbourne?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I don't know. Maybe she can. Who'd she see at your house?\"\n\n\"Nobody, but the man at the lodge, or his mother.\"\n\n\"Who's that?\"\n\n\"He's the man that lives in the lodge, to open the gate.\"\n\n\"Open the gate, hey? Who pays him for it?\"\n\n\"Papa pays him, and he lives in the lodge.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't think it would take a man to open a gate. Why Hephzibah\ncould do it as well as anybody.\"\n\nDaisy did not see the point of this remark, and went on. \"Hephzibah\nwouldn't see anybody else, but me.\"\n\n\"Well, I believe you mean what you say,\" said Mrs. Harbonner, \"and I\nhope you will when you're twenty years older--but I don't believe it.\nI'll let Hephzibah come over to you on Sundays--I know she's jumpin'\nout of her skin to go--she shall go on Sundays, but I can't let her go\nother days, 'cause she's got work to do; and anyhow it would be too fur.\nWhat time would you like to see her?\"\n\n\"As soon as it can be after afternoon church, if you please. I couldn't\nbefore.\"\n\n\"You're a kind little soul!\" said the woman. \"Do you like flowers?\"\n\nDaisy said yes. The woman went to a back door of the room, and opening\nit, plucked a branch from a great rose-bush that grew there.\n\n\"We haint but one pretty thing about this house,\" said she presenting it\nto Daisy,--\"but that's kind o' pretty.\"\n\nIt was a very rich and delicious white rose, and the branch was an\nelegant one, clustered with flowers and buds. Daisy gave her thanks and\ntook leave.\n\n\"As we have opportunity, let us do good unto all men.\" There was a\nlittle warm drop of comfort in Daisy's heart as she drove away. If she\ncould not go to Sunday-school herself, she might teach somebody else yet\nmore needy; that would be the next best thing. Sunday afternoon--it\nlooked bright to Daisy; but then her heart sank; Sunday evening would be\nnear. What should she do? She could not settle it in her mind what was\nright; between her mother's anger and her father's love, Daisy could not\nsee what was just the plumb line of duty. Singing would gain a hundred\ndollars' worth of good; and not singing would disobey her mother and\ndisplease her father; but then came the words of one that Daisy honoured\nmore than father and mother--\"Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath\nday;\" and she could not tell what to do.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nDaisy had gone but a little way out of the village, when she suddenly\npulled up. Sam was at the side of the chaise immediately.\n\n\"Sam, I want a glass of water; where can I get it?\"\n\n\"Guess at Mrs. Benoit's, Miss Daisy. There's a fine spring of cold\nwater.\"\n\n\"Who is Mrs. Benoit?\"\n\n\"It's Juanita--Miss Daisy has heard of Mrs. St. Leonard's Juanita. Mr.\nSt. Leonard built a house for her,--just the other side o' them trees.\"\n\nDaisy knew who Juanita was. She had been brought from the West Indies by\nthe mother of one of the gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood; and\nupon the death of her mistress had been established in a little house of\nher own. Daisy judged that she would be quite safe in going there for\nwater.\n\n\"If I turn into that road, can I go home round that way, Sam?\"\n\n\"You can, Miss Daisy; but it's a ways longer.\"\n\n\"I like that,\" said Daisy.\n\nShe turned up the road that led behind the trees, and presently saw\nJuanita's cottage. A little grey stone house, low-roofed, standing at\nthe very edge of a piece of woodland, and some little distance back from\nthe road. Daisy saw the old woman sitting on her doorstep. A grassy\nslope stretched down from the house to the road. The sun shone up\nagainst the grey cottage.\n\n\"You take care of Loupe, Sam, and I'll go in,\" said Daisy. A plan which\nprobably disappointed Sam, but Daisy did not know that. She went through\na little wicket and up the path.\n\nJuanita did not look like the blacks she had been accustomed to see.\n_Black_ she was not, but of a fine olive dark skin; and though certainly\nold, she was still straight and tall and very fine in her appearance and\nbearing. Daisy could see this but partially while Juanita was sitting at\nher door; she was more struck by the very grave look her face wore just\nthen. It was not turned towards her little visiter, and Daisy got the\nimpression that she must be feeling unhappy.\n\nJuanita rose however with great willingness to get the water, and asked\nDaisy into her house. Daisy dared not, after her father's prohibition,\ngo in, and she stood at the door till the water was brought. Then with a\nstrong feeling of kindness towards the lonely and perhaps sorrowful old\nwoman, and remembering to \"do good as she had opportunity,\" Daisy\nsuddenly offered her the beautiful rose-branch.\n\n\"Does the lady think I want pay for a glass of water?\" said the woman,\nwith a smile that was extremely winning.\n\n\"No,\" said Daisy,--\"but I thought, perhaps, you liked flowers.\"\n\n\"There's another sort of flowers that the Lord likes,\"--said the woman\nlooking at her; \"they be his little children.\"\n\nDaisy's heart was tender, and there was something in Juanita's face that\nwon her confidence. Instead of turning away, she folded her hands\nunconsciously and said, more wistfully than she knew, \"I want to be\none!\"\n\n\"Does my little lady know the Lord Jesus?\" said the woman, with a bright\nlight coming into her eye.\n\nDaisy's heart was sore as well as tender; the question touched two\nthings,--the joy that she did know him, and the trouble that following\nhim had cost her; she burst into tears. Then turning away and with a\ngreat effort throwing off the tears, she went back to the chaise. There\nstood Sam with the pony's foot in his hand.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, this fellow has kicked one of his shoes half off; he can't\ngo home so; it's hanging. Could Miss Daisy stop a little while at Mrs.\nBenoit's, I could take the pony to the blacksmith's--it ain't but a very\nlittle ways off--and get it put on, in a few minutes.\"\n\n\"Well, do, Sam,\"--said Daisy after she had looked at the matter; and\nwhile he took Loupe out of harness she turned back to Juanita.\n\n\"What is gone wrong?\" said the old woman.\n\n\"Nothing is wrong,\" said Daisy; \"only the pony has got his shoe off, and\nthe boy is taking him to the blacksmith's.\"\n\n\"Will my lady come into my house?\"\n\n\"No, thank you. I'll stay here.\"\n\nThe woman brought out a low chair for her and set it on the grass; and\ntook herself her former place on the sill of the door. She looked\nearnestly at Daisy; and Daisy on her part had noticed the fine carriage\nof the woman, her pleasant features, and the bright handkerchief which\nmade her turban. Through the open door she could see the neat order of\nthe room within, and her eye caught some shells arranged on shelves; but\nDaisy did not like to look, and she turned away. She met Juanita's eye;\nshe felt she must speak.\n\n\"This is a pleasant place.\"\n\n\"Why does my lady think so?\"\n\n\"It looks pleasant,\" said Daisy. \"It is nice. The grass is pretty, and\nthe trees; and it is a pretty little house, I think.\" The woman smiled.\n\n\"I think it be a palace of beauty,\" she said,--\"for Jesus is here.\"\n\nDaisy looked, a little wondering but entirely respectful; the whole\naspect of Juanita commanded that.\n\n\"Does my little lady know, that the presence of the King makes a poor\nhouse fine?\"\n\n\"I don't quite know what you mean,\" said Daisy humbly.\n\n\"Does my little lady know that the Lord Jesus loves his people?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Daisy,--\"I know it.\"\n\n\"But she know not much. When a poor heart say any time, 'Lord, I am all\nthine!'--then the Lord comes to that heart and he makes it the house of\na King--for he comes there _himself_. And where Jesus is,--all is glory!\nDo not my little lady read that in the Bible?\"\n\n\"I don't remember\"--said Daisy.\n\nThe woman got up, went into the cottage, and brought out a large print\nTestament which she put into Daisy's hands, open at the fourteenth\nchapter of John. Daisy read with curious interest the words to which she\nwas directed.\n\n\"Jesus answered and said unto him, If a man love me, he will keep my\nwords: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him and make\nour abode with him.\"\n\nDaisy looked at the promise, with her heart beating under troublesome\ndoubts; when the voice of Juanita broke in upon them by saying,\ntenderly,\n\n\"Does my little lady keep the Lord's words?\"\n\nDown went the book, and the tears rushed into Daisy's eyes.\n\n\"Don't call me so,\" she cried,--\"I am Daisy Randolph;--and I do want to\nkeep his words!--and--I don't know how.\"\n\n\"What troubles my love?\" said the woman, in low tones of a voice that\nwas always sweet. \"Do not she know what the words of the Lord be?\"\n\n\"Yes,\"--said Daisy, hardly able to make herself understood,--\"but--\"\n\n\"Then do 'em,\" said Juanita. \"The way is straight. What he say, do.\"\n\n\"But suppose----\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Suppose what? What do my love suppose?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't it make it right, if it would do a great deal of good?\"\n\nThis confused sentence Juanita pondered over.\n\n\"What does my love mean?\"\n\n\"If it would do a great deal of good--wouldn't that make it right to do\nsomething?\"\n\n\"Right to do something that the Lord say _not_ do?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"If you love Jesus, you not talk so,\" said Juanita sorrowfully. But that\nmade Daisy give way altogether.\n\n\"O I do love him!--I do love him!\" she cried;--\"but I don't know what to\ndo.\" And tears came in a torrent. Juanita was watchful and thoughtful.\nWhen Daisy had very soon checked herself, she said in the same low,\ngentle way in which she had before spoken, \"What do the Lord say--to do\nthat some good thing,--or to keep his words?\"\n\n\"To keep his words.\"\n\n\"Then keep 'em--and the Lord will do the good thing himself; that same\nor another. He can do what he please; and he tell you, only keep his\nwords. He want you to shew you love him--and he tell you how.\"\n\nDaisy sat quite still to let the tears pass away and the struggle in her\nheart grow calm; then when she could safely she looked up. She met\nJuanita's eye. It was fixed on her.\n\n\"Is the way straight now?\" she asked. Daisy nodded, with a little bit of\na smile on her poor little lips.\n\n\"But there is trouble in the way?\" said Juanita.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Daisy, and the old woman saw the eyes redden again.\n\n\"Has the little one a good friend at home to help?\"\n\nDaisy shook her head.\n\n\"Then let Jesus help. My little lady keep the Lord's words, and the\nsweet Lord Jesus will keep her.\" And rising to her feet and clasping her\nhands, where she stood, Juanita poured forth a prayer. It was for her\nlittle visiter. It was full of love. It was full of confidence too; and\nof such clear simplicity as if, like Stephen, she had _seen_ the heavens\nopen. But the loving strength of it won Daisy's heart; and when the\nprayer was finished she came close to the old woman and threw her arms\nround her as she stood, and wept with her face hid in Juanita's dress.\nYet the prayer had comforted her too, greatly. And though Daisy was very\nshy of intimacies with strangers, she liked to feel Juanita's hand on\nher shoulder; and after the paroxysm of tears was past, she still stood\nquietly by her, without attempting to increase the distance between\nthem; till she saw Sam coming down the lane with the pony.\n\n\"Good bye,\" said Daisy, \"there's the boy.\"\n\n\"My lady will come to see old Juanita again?\"\n\n\"I am Daisy Randolph. I'll come,\"--said the child, looking lovingly up.\nThen she went down the slope to Sam.\n\n\"The blacksmith couldn't shoe him, Miss Daisy--he hadn't a shoe to fit.\nHe took off the old shoe--so Miss Daisy please not drive him hard home.\"\n\nDaisy wanted nothing of the kind. To get home soon was no pleasure; so\nshe let Loupe take his own pace, anything short of walking; and it was\ngetting dusk when they reached Melbourne. Daisy was not glad to be\nthere. It was Friday night; the next day would be Saturday.\n\nMrs. Randolph came out into the hall to see that nothing was the matter,\nand then went back into the drawing-room. Daisy got her dress changed,\nand came there too, where the family were waiting for tea. She came in\nsoftly and sat down by herself at a table somewhat removed from the\nothers, who were all busily talking and laughing. But presently Capt.\nDrummond drew near and sat down at her side.\n\n\"Have you had a good drive, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\n\"We missed our history to-day, but I have been making preparations.\nShall we go into the Saxon Heptarchy to-morrow--you and I--and see if we\ncan get the kingdom settled?\"\n\n\"If you please. I should like it very much.\"\n\n\"What is the matter with you, Daisy?\"\n\nDaisy lifted her wise little face, which indeed looked as if it were\nheavy with something beside wisdom, towards her friend; she was not\nready with an answer.\n\n\"You aren't going to die on the field of battle yet, Daisy?\" he said\nhalf lightly, and half he knew not why. It brought a rush of colour to\nthe child's face; the self-possession must have been great which kept\nher from giving way to further expression of feeling. She answered with\ncurious calmness,\n\n\"I don't think I shall, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\nThe Captain saw it was a bad time to get anything from her, and he moved\naway. Preston came the next minute.\n\n\"Why Daisy,\" he whispered, drawing his chair close, \"where have you been\nall day? No getting a sight of you. What have you been about?\"\n\n\"I have been to Crum Elbow this afternoon.\"\n\n\"Yes, and how late you stayed. Why did you?\"\n\n\"Loupe lost a shoe. I had to wait for Sam to go to the blacksmith's with\nhim.\"\n\n\"Really. Did you wait in the road?\"\n\n\"No. I had a place to wait.\"\n\n\"I dare say you are as hungry as a bear,\" said Preston. \"Now here comes\ntea--and waffles, Daisy; you shall have some waffles and cream. That\nwill make you feel better.\"\n\n\"Cream isn't good with waffles,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes it is. Cream is good with everything. You shall try. I know! I am\nalways cross myself when I am hungry.\"\n\n\"I am not hungry, Preston; and I don't think I am cross.\"\n\n\"What are you, then? Come, Daisy,--here is a cup of tea, and here is a\nwaffle. First the sugar--there,--then the cream. So.\"\n\n\"You have spoiled it, Preston.\"\n\n\"Eat it--and confess you are hungry and cross too.\"\n\nDaisy could have laughed, only she was too sore-hearted, and would\nsurely have cried. She fell to eating the creamed waffle.\n\n\"Is it good?\"\n\n\"Very good!\"\n\n\"Confess you are hungry and cross, Daisy.\"\n\n\"I am not cross. And Preston, please!--don't!\" Daisy's fork fell; but\nshe took it up again.\n\n\"What is the matter, then, Daisy?\"\n\nDaisy did not answer; she went on eating as diligently as she could.\n\n\"Is it that foolish business of the song?\" whispered Preston. \"Is _that_\nthe trouble, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Please don't, Preston!\"--\n\n\"Well I won't, till you have had another waffle. Sugar and cream,\nDaisy?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"That's brave! Now eat it up--and tell me, Daisy, is _that_ the trouble\nwith you?\"\n\nHe spoke affectionately, as he almost always did to her; and Daisy did\nnot throw him off.\n\n\"You don't understand it, Preston,\" she said.\n\n\"Daisy, I told you my uncle and aunt would not like that sort of thing.\"\n\nDaisy was silent, and Preston wondered at her. Mrs. Gary drew near at\nthis moment, and placed herself opposite Daisy's tea-cup, using her eyes\nin the first place.\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" said she.\n\n\"About Daisy's singing, ma'am.\"\n\n\"That's the very thing,\" said Mrs. Gary, \"that I wanted to speak about.\nDaisy, my dear, I hope you are going to sing it properly to your mother\nthe next time she bids you?\"\n\nDaisy was silent.\n\n\"I wanted to tell you, my dear,\" said Mrs. Gary impressively, \"what a\npoor appearance your refusal made, the other evening. You could not see\nit for yourself; but it made you seem awkward, and foolish, and\nill-bred. I am sure everybody would have laughed, if it had not been for\npoliteness towards your mother; for the spectacle was ludicrous,\nthoroughly. You like to make a graceful appearance, don't you?\"\n\nDaisy answered in a low voice,--\"Yes, ma'am; when I can.\"\n\n\"Well you _can_, my dear, for your behaviour is generally graceful, and\nunexceptionable; only the other night it was very rough and uncouth. I\nexpected you to put your finger in your mouth the next thing, and stand\nas if you had never seen anybody. And Daisy Randolph!--the heiress of\nMelbourne and Cranford!\"--\n\nThe heiress of Melbourne and Cranford lifted to her aunt's face a look\nstrangely in contrast with the look bent on her; so much worldly wisdom\nwas in the one, so much want of it in the other. Yet those steady grey\neyes were not without a wisdom, of their own; and Mrs. Gary met them\nwith a puzzled feeling of it.\n\n\"Do you understand me, Daisy, my dear?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Do you see that it is desirable never to look ridiculous, and well-bred\npersons never do?\"\n\n\"Yes, aunt Gary.\"\n\n\"Then I am sure you won't do it again. It would mortify me for your\nfather and mother.\"\n\nMrs. Gary walked away. Daisy looked thoughtful.\n\n\"Will you do it, Daisy?\" whispered Preston.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Will you sing the song for them next time? You will, won't you?\"\n\n\"I'll do what I can\"--said Daisy. But it was said so soberly, that\nPreston was doubtful of her. However he, like Capt. Drummond, had got to\nthe end of his resources for that time; and seeing his uncle approach,\nPreston left his seat.\n\nMr. Randolph took it and drew Daisy from her own to a place in his arms.\nHe sat then silent a good while, or talking to other people; only\nholding her close and tenderly. Truth to tell, Mr. Randolph was a little\ntroubled about the course things were taking; and Daisy and her father\nwere a grave pair that evening.\n\nDaisy felt his arms were a pleasant shield between her and all the\nworld; if they might only _keep_ round her! And then she thought of\nJuanita's prayer, and of the invisible shield, of a stronger and more\nloving arm, that the Lord Jesus puts between his children and all real\nharm.\n\nAt last Mr. Randolph bent down his head and brought his lips to Daisy's,\nasking her if she had had a nice time that afternoon.\n\n\"Very, papa!\" said Daisy gratefully; and then added after a little\nhesitation, \"Papa, do you know old Juanita?--Mrs. St. Leonard's woman,\nthat Mr. St. Leonard built a little house for?\"\n\n\"I do not know her. I believe I have heard of her.\"\n\n\"Papa, would you let me go into _her_ house? She has some beautiful\nshells that I should like to see.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"I saw them, papa, through the doorway of her house, I waited there\nwhile Sam went with Loupe to the blacksmith's.\"\n\n\"And you did not go in?\"\n\n\"No, sir--you said I must not, you know.\"\n\n\"I believe Juanita is a safe person, Daisy. You may go in, if ever you\nhave another opportunity.\"\n\n\"Thank you, papa.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do with the hundred dollars?\" said Mr. Randolph,\nputting his head down and speaking softly.\n\nDaisy waited a minute, checked the swelling of her heart, forbade her\ntears, steadied her voice to speak; and then said, \"I sha'n't have them,\npapa.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"I can't fulfil the conditions.\" Daisy spoke again after waiting a\nminute.\n\n\"Don't you mean to sing?\"\n\nEvery time Daisy waited.--\"I can't, papa.\"\n\n\"Your mother will require it.\"\n\nSilence, only Mr. Randolph saw that the child's breath went and came\nunder excitement.\n\n\"Daisy, she will require it.\"\n\n\"Yes, papa\"--was said rather faintly.\n\n\"And I think you must do it.\"\n\nNo response from Daisy; and no sign of yielding.\n\n\"How do you expect to get over it?\"\n\n\"Papa, won't you help me?\" was the child's agonized cry. She hid her\nface in her father's breast.\n\n\"I have tried to help you. I will give you what will turn your fancied\nwrong deed into a good one. It is certainly right to do charitable\nthings on Sunday.\"\n\nThere was silence, and it promised to last some time. Mr. Randolph would\nnot hurry her: and Daisy was thinking, \"If ye love me, keep my\ncommandments.\" \"_If ye love me_\"--\n\n\"Papa,\"--said she at last, very slowly, and pausing between her\nwords,--\"would you be satisfied,--if I should disobey you--for a hundred\ndollars?\"\n\nThis time it was Mr. Randolph that did not answer, and the longer he\nwaited the more the answer did not come. He put Daisy gently off his\nknee and rose at last without speaking. Daisy went out upon the verandah\nand sat down on the step; and there the stars seemed to say to her--\"If\na man love me, he will keep my words.\" They were shining very bright; so\nwas that saying to Daisy. She sat looking at them, forgetting all the\npeople in the drawing-room; and though troubled enough, she was not\nutterly unhappy. The reason was, she loved her King.\n\nSomebody came behind her and took hold of her shoulders. \"My dear little\nDaisy!\" said the voice of Preston, \"I wish you were an India-rubber\nball, that I might chuck you up to the sky and down again a few times!\"\n\n\"Why? I don't think it would be nice.\"\n\n\"Why?--why because you want shaking; you are growing dull,--yes,\nabsolutely you are getting heavy! you, little Daisy! of all people in\nthe world. It won't do.\"\n\n\"I don't think such an exercise would benefit me,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I'd find something else then. Daisy, Daisy,\" said he, shaking her\nshoulders gently, \"this religious foolery is spoiling you. Don't _you_\ngo and make yourself stupid. Why I don't know you. What is all this\nridiculous stuff? You aren't yourself.\"\n\n\"What do you want me to do, Preston?\" said Daisy standing before him,\nnot without a certain childish dignity. It was lost on him.\n\n\"I want you to be my own little Daisy,\" said he coaxingly. \"Come!--say\nyou will, and give up these outlandish notions you have got from some\nold woman or other. What is it they want you to do?--sing?--Come,\npromise you will. Promise me!\"\n\n\"I will sing any day but Sunday.\"\n\n\"Sunday? Now Daisy! I'm ashamed of you. Why I never heard such nonsense.\nNobody has such notions but low people. It isn't sensible. Give it up,\nDaisy, or I shall not know how to love you.\"\n\n\"Good night, Preston\"--\n\n\"Daisy, Daisy! come and kiss me and be good.\"\n\n\"Good night\"--repeated Daisy without turning; and she walked off.\n\nIt half broke June's heart that night to see that the child's eyes were\nquietly dropping tears all the while she was getting undressed.\nPreston's last threat had cut very close. But Daisy said not a word; and\nwhen, long after June had left her, she got into bed and lay down, it\nwas not Preston's words but the reminder of the stars that was with her\nand making harmony among all her troubled thoughts--\"If a man love me,\nhe will keep my words.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\nIn spite of the burden that lay on Daisy's heart, she and Capt. Drummond\nhad a good time the next morning over the Saxon Heptarchy. They went\ndown to the shore for it, at Daisy's desire, where they would be\nundisturbed; and the morning was hardly long enough. The Captain had\nprovided himself with a shallow tray filled with modelling clay; which\nhe had got from an artist friend living a few miles further up the\nriver. On this the plan of England was nicely marked out, and by the\nhelp of one or two maps which he cut up for the occasion, the Captain\ndivided off the seven kingdoms greatly to Daisy's satisfaction and\nenlightenment. Then, how they went on with the history! introduced\nChristianity, enthroned Egbert, and defeated the Danes under Alfred.\nThey read from, the book, and fought it all out on the clay plan, as\nthey went along. At Alfred they stopped a good while, to consider the\nstate of the world in the little island of Britain at that time. The\ngood king's care for his people, his love for study and encouragement of\nlearning; his writing fables for the people; his wax candles to mark\ntime; his building with brick and stone; his founding the English navy,\nand victories with the same; no less than his valour and endurance in\nevery time of trial; all these things Capt. Drummond whose father had\nbeen an Englishman, duly enlarged upon, and Daisy heard them with greedy\nears. Truth to tell, the Captain had read up a little for the occasion,\nbeing a good deal moved with sympathy for his little friend, who he saw\nwas going through a time of some trial. Nothing was to be seen of that\njust now, indeed, other than the peculiarly soft and grave expression\nwhich Daisy's face had worn all this week; and which kept reminding the\nCaptain to be sorry for her.\n\nThey got through with Alfred at last--by the way, the Captain had\neffaced the dividing lines of the seven kingdoms and brought all to one\nin Egbert's time--and now they went on with Alfred's successors. A place\nwas found on the sand for Denmark and Norway to shew themselves; and\nSweyn and Canute came over; and there was no bating to the interest with\nwhich the game of human life went on. In short, Daisy and the Captain\nhaving tucked themselves away in a nook of the beach and the tenth and\neleventh centuries, were lost to all the rest of the world and to the\npresent time; till a servant at last found them with the information\nthat the luncheon bell had rung, and Mrs. Randolph was ready to go out\nwith the Captain. And William the Conqueror had just landed at Hastings!\n\n\"Never mind, Daisy,\" said the Captain; \"we'll go on with it, the next\nchance we get.\"\n\nDaisy thanked him earnestly, but the thought that Sunday must come and\ngo first, threw a shadow over her thanks. The Captain saw it; and walked\nhome thinking curiously about the \"field of battle\"--not Hastings.\n\nDaisy did not go in to luncheon. She did not like meeting all the people\nwho felt so gay, while she felt so much trouble. Nor did she like being\nwith her mother, whose manner all the week had constantly reminded Daisy\nof what Daisy never forgot. The rest of Saturday passed soberly away.\nThere was a cloud in the air.\n\nAnd the cloud was high and dark Sunday morning, though it was as fair a\nsummer day as might be seen. Some tears escaped stealthily from Daisy's\neyes, as she knelt in the little church beside her mother; but the\nprayers were deep and sweet and strong to her, very much. Sadly sorry\nwas Daisy when they were ended. The rest of the service was little to\nher. Mr. Pyne did not preach like Mr. Dinwiddie; and she left the church\nwith a downcast heart, thinking that so much of the morning was past.\n\nThe rest of the day Daisy kept by herself, in her own room; trying to\nget some comfort in reading and praying. For the dread of the evening\nwas strong upon her; every movement of her mother spoke displeasure and\ndetermination. Daisy felt her heart beating gradually quicker and\nquicker, as the hours of the day wore on.\n\n\"Ye ain't well, Miss Daisy,\"--said June, who had come in as usual\nwithout being heard.\n\n\"Yes I am, June,\" said Daisy. But she had started when the woman spoke,\nand June saw that now a tear sprang.\n\n\"Did you eat a good lunch, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't know, June. I guess I didn't eat much.\"\n\n\"Let me bring you something!\"--said the woman coaxingly--\"some\nstrawberries, with some good cream to 'em.\"\n\n\"No--I can't, June--I don't want them. What o'clock is it?\"\n\n\"It is just on to five, Miss Daisy.\"\n\nFive! Daisy suddenly recollected her scholar, whom she had directed to\ncome to her at this hour. Jumping up she seized her hat and rushed off\ndown stairs and through the shrubbery, leaving June lost in wonder and\nconcern.\n\nAt a Belvidere, some distance from the house and nearer the gate, Daisy\nhad chosen to meet her pupil; and she had given orders at the Lodge to\nhave her guided thither when she should come. And there she was; Daisy\ncould see the red head of hair before she got to the place herself.\nHephzibah looked very much as she did on weekdays; her dress partially\ncovered with a little shawl; her bonnet she had thrown off; and if the\nhair had been coaxed into any state of smoothness before leaving home,\nit was all gone now.\n\n[Illustration: THE BELVIDERE.]\n\n\"How do you do, Hephzibah?\" said Daisy. \"I am glad to see you.\"\n\nHephzibah smiled, but unless that meant a civil answer, she gave none.\nDaisy sat down beside her.\n\n\"Do you know how to read, Hephzibah?\"\n\nThe child first shook her shaggy head--then nodded it. What that meant,\nDaisy was somewhat at a loss.\n\n\"Do you know your letters?\"\n\nHephzibah nodded.\n\n\"What is that letter?\"\n\nDaisy had not forgotten to bring a reading book, and now put Hephzibah\nthrough the alphabet, which she seemed to know perfectly, calling each\nletter by its right name. Daisy then asked if she could read words; and\ngetting an assenting nod again, she tried her in that. But here\nHephzibah's education was defective; she could read indeed, after a\nfashion; but it was a slow and stumbling fashion; and Daisy and she were\na good while getting through a page. Daisy shut the book up.\n\n\"Now Hephzibah,\" said she, \"do you know anything about what is in the\nBible?\"\n\nHephzibah shook her head in a manner the reverse of encouraging.\n\n\"Did you never read the Bible, nor have any one read it to you?\"\n\nAnother shake.\n\nDaisy thereupon began to tell her little neighbour the grand story which\nconcerned them both so nearly, making it as clear and simple as she\ncould. Hephzibah's eyes were fixed on her intently all the while; and\nDaisy, greatly interested herself, wondered if any of the interest had\nreached Hephzibah's heart, and made the gaze of her eyes so unwavering.\nThey expressed nothing. Daisy hoped, and went on, till at a pause\nHephzibah gave utterance to the first words (of her own) that she had\nspoken during the interview. They came out very suddenly, like an\nunexpected jet of water from an unused fountain.\n\n\"Mother says, you're the fus'ratest little girl she ever see!\"\n\nDaisy was extremely confounded. The thread of her discourse was so\nthoroughly broken indeed, that she could not directly begin it again;\nand in the minute of waiting she saw how low the sun was. She dismissed\nHephzibah. telling her to be at the Belvidere the same hour next\nSunday.\n\nAs the shaggy little red head moved away through the bushes, Daisy\nwatched it, wondering whether she had done the least bit of good. Then\nanother thought made her heart beat, and she turned again to see how low\nthe sun was. Instead of the sun she saw Gary McFarlane.\n\n\"Who is that, Daisy?\" said he, looking after the disappearing red head.\n\n\"A poor little girl--\" said Daisy.\n\n\"So I should think,--very poor!--looks so indeed! How came she here?\"\n\n\"She came by my orders, Mr. McFarlane.\"\n\n\"By your orders! What have you got there, Daisy? Let's see! As sure as\nI'm alive!--a spelling book. Keeping school, Daisy? Don't say no!\"\n\nDaisy did not say no, nor anything. She had taken care not to let Gary\nget hold of her Bible; the rest she must manage as she could.\n\n\"This _is_ benevolence!\" went on the young man. \"Teaching a spelling\nlesson in a Belvidere with the thermometer at 90\u00b0 in the shade? What\nsinners all the rest of us are! I declare, Daisy, you make me feel bad.\"\n\n\"I should not think it, Mr. McFarlane.\"\n\n\"Daisy, you have _\u00e0 plomb_ enough for a princess, and gravity enough for\na Puritan! I should like to see you when you are grown up,--only then I\nshall be an old man, and it will be of no consequence. What _do_ you\nexpect to do with that little red head?--now do tell me.\"\n\n\"She don't know anything, Mr. McFarlane.\"\n\n\"No more don't I! Come Daisy--have pity on me. You never saw anybody\nmore ignorant than I am. There are half a dozen things at this moment\nwhich I don't know--and which you can tell me. Come, will you?\"\n\n\"I must go in, Mr. McFarlane.\"\n\n\"But tell me first. Come, Daisy! I want to know why _is_ it so much\nmore wicked to sing a song than to make somebody else singsong?--for\nthat's the way they all do the spelling book, _I_ know. Hey, Daisy?\"\n\n\"How did you know anything about it, Mr. McFarlane?\"\n\n\"Come, Daisy,--explain. I am all in a fog--or else you are. This\nspelling book seems to me a very wicked thing on Sunday.\"\n\n\"I will take it, if you please, Mr. McFarlane.\"\n\n\"Not if I know it! I want my ignorance instructed, Daisy. I am persuaded\nyou are the best person to enlighten me--but if not, I shall try this\nspelling book on Mrs. Randolph. I regard it as a great curiosity, and an\nimportant question in metaphysics.\"\n\nPoor Daisy! She did not know what to do; conscious that Gary was\nlaughing at her all the while, and most unwilling that the story of the\nspelling book should get to Mrs. Randolph's ears. She stood hesitating\nand troubled, when her eye caught sight of Preston near. Springing to\nhim she cried, \"O Preston, get my little book from Mr. McFarlane--he\nwon't give it to me.\"\n\nThere began then a race of the most uproarious sort between the two\nyoung men--springing, turning, darting round among the trees and bushes,\nshouting to and laughing at each other. Daisy another time would have\nbeen amused; now she was almost frightened, lest all this boisterous\nwork should draw attention. At last, however, Preston got the spelling\nbook, or Gary let himself be overtaken and gave it up.\n\n\"It's mischief, Preston!\" he said;--\"deep mischief--occult mischief. I\ngive you warning.\"\n\n\"What is it, Daisy?\" said Preston. \"What is it all about?\"\n\n\"Never mind. Oh Preston! don't ask anything, but let me have it!\"\n\n\"There it is then; but Daisy,\" he said affectionately, catching her in\nhis arms,--\"you are going to sing to-night, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Don't Preston--don't! let me go,\" cried Daisy struggling to escape from\nhim; and she ran away as soon as he let her, hardly able to keep back\nher tears. She felt it very hard. Preston and Gary, and her mother and\nher father,--all against her in different ways. Daisy kneeled down by\nher window-sill in her own room, to try to get comfort and strength;\nthough she was in too great tumult to pray connectedly. Her little heart\nwas beating sadly. But there was no doubt at all in Daisy's mind as to\nwhat she should do.--\"If a man love me, he will keep my words.\" She\nnever questioned now about doing that.\n\nThe dreaded tea bell rang, and she went down; but utterly unable to eat\nor drink through agitation. Nobody seemed to notice her particularly,\nand she wandered out upon the verandah; and waited there. There\npresently her father's arms came round her before she was aware.\n\n\"What are you going to do, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Nothing, papa,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Are you not going to sing?\"\n\n\"Papa, I can't!\" cried Daisy dropping her face against his arm. Her\nfather raised it again and drawing her opposite one of the windows,\nlooked into the dark-ringed eyes and white face.\n\n\"You are not well,\" said he. \"You are not fit to be up; and my orders to\nyou, Daisy, are to go immediately to bed. I'll send you some medicine by\nand by. Good night!\"\n\nHe kissed her, and Daisy needed no second bidding. She sprang away,\ngetting into the house by another door; and lost no time. Her fear was\nthat her mother might send for her before she could get undressed. But\nno summons came; June was speedy, thinking and saying it was a very good\nthing for Daisy to do; and then she went off and left her alone with the\nmoonlight. Daisy was in no hurry then. She knelt by her beloved window,\nwhere the scent of the honeysuckle was strong in the dewy air; and with\na less throbbing heart prayed her prayer. But she was not at ease yet;\nit was very uncertain in her mind how her mother would take this order\nof her father's; and what would come after, if she was willing to let it\npass. So Daisy could not go to sleep, but lay wide awake and fearing in\nthe moonlight, and listening to every sound in the house that came to\nher ears.\n\nThe moonlight shone in peacefully, and Daisy lying there and growing\ngradually calmer, began to wonder in herself that there should be so\nmuch difficulty made about anybody's doing right. If she had been set on\nsome wrong thing, it would have made but a very little disturbance--if\nany; but now, when she was only trying to do right, the whole house was\nroused to prevent her. Was it so in those strange old times that the\neleventh chapter of Hebrews told of?--when men, and women, were stoned,\nand sawn asunder, and slain with the sword, and wandered like wild\nanimals in sheepskins and goatskins and in dens and caves of the earth?\nall for the name of Jesus. But if they suffered once, they were happy\nnow. Better anything, at all events, than to deny that name!\n\nThe evening seemed excessively long to Daisy, lying there on her bed\nawake, and listening with strained ears for any sound near her room. She\nheard none; the hours passed, though so very slowly, as they do when all\nthe minutes are watched; and Daisy heard nothing but dim distant noises,\nand grew pretty quiet. She had heard nothing else, when turning her head\nfrom the moonlight window she caught the sight of a white figure at her\nbedside; and by the noble form and stately proportions Daisy knew\ninstantly whose figure it was. Those soft flowing draperies had been\nbefore her eyes all day. A pang shot through the child, that seemed to\ngo from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.\n\n\"Are you awake, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma,\" she said feebly.\n\n\"Get up. I want to speak to you.\"\n\nDaisy got off the bed, and the white figure in the little night dress\nstood opposite the other white figure, robed in muslin and laces that\nfell around it like a cloud.\n\n\"Why did you come to bed?\"\n\n\"Papa--papa ordered me.\"\n\n\"It's all the same. If you had not come to bed, Daisy if you had been\nwell,--would you have sung when I ordered you to-night?\"\n\nDaisy hesitated, and then said in a whisper:\n\n\"No, mamma--not that.\"\n\n\"Think before you answer me, for I shall not ask twice. Will you promise\nto sing the gypsy song, because I command you, next Sunday in the\nevening? Answer, Daisy.\"\n\nVery low it was, for Daisy trembled so that she did not know how she\ncould speak at all, but the answer came,--\n\n\"I can't, mamma.\"\n\nMrs. Randolph stepped to the bell and rang it. Almost at the same\ninstant June entered, bearing a cup in her hand.\n\n\"What is that?\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"Master sent Miss Daisy some medicine.\"\n\n\"Set it down. I have got some here better for her. June, take Daisy's\nhands.\"\n\n\"Oh mamma, no!\" exclaimed Daisy. \"Oh please send June away!\"\n\nThe slight gesture of command to June which answered this, was as\nimperious as it was slight. It was characteristically like Mrs.\nRandolph; graceful and absolute. June obeyed it, as old instinct told\nher to do; though sorely against her will. She had held hands before,\nthough not Daisy's; and she knew very well the look of the little whip\nwith which her mistress stepped back into the room, having gone to her\nown for it. In a Southern home that whip had been wont to live in Mrs.\nRandolph's pocket. June's heart groaned within her.\n\nThe whip was small but it had been made for use, not for play; and there\nwas no play in Mrs. Randolph's use of it. This was not like her father's\nferule, which Daisy could bear in silence, if tears would come; her\nmother's handling forced cries from her; though smothered and kept under\nin a way that shewed the child's self-command.\n\n\"What have you to say to me?\" Mrs. Randolph responded, without waiting\nfor the answer. But Daisy had none to give. At length her mother paused.\n\n\"Will you do what I bid you?\"\n\nDaisy was unable to speak for tears--and perhaps for fear. The wrinkles\non June's brow were strangely folded together with agitation; but nobody\nsaw them.\n\n\"Will you sing for me next Sunday?\" repeated Mrs. Randolph.\n\nThere was a struggle in the child's heart, as great almost as a child's\nheart can bear. The answer came, when it came, tremblingly--\n\n\"I can't, mamma.\"\n\n\"You cannot?\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"I can't, mamma.\"\n\nThe chastisement which followed was so severe, that June was moved out\nof all the habits of her life, to interfere in another's cause. The\nwhite skinned race were no mark for trouble in June's mind; least of\nthem all, her little charge. And if white skin was no more delicate in\nreality than dark skin, it answered to the lash much more speakingly.\n\n\"Missus, you'll kill her!\" June said, using in her agitation a carefully\ndisused form of speech; for June was a freedwoman. A slight turn of the\nwhip brought the lash sharply across her wrist, with the equally sharp\nwords, \"Mind your own business!\"\n\nA thrill went through the woman, like an electric spark firing a whole\nlife-train of feeling and memory; but the lines of her face never moved,\nand not the stirring of a muscle told what the touch had reached,\nbesides a few nerves. She had done her charge no good by her\nofficiousness, as June presently saw with grief. It was not till Mrs.\nRandolph had thoroughly satisfied her displeasure at being thwarted, and\nnot until Daisy was utterly exhausted, that Mrs. Randolph stayed her\nhand.\n\n\"I will see what you will say to me next Sunday!\" she remarked calmly.\nAnd she left the room.\n\nIt was not that Mrs. Randolph did not love her daughter, in her way; for\nin her way she was fond of Daisy; but the habit of bearing no opposition\nto her authority was life-strong, and probably intensified in the\npresent instance by perceiving that her husband was disposed to shield\nthe offender. The only person in whose favour the rule ever relaxed, was\nRansom.\n\nJune was left with a divided mind, between the dumb indignation which\nhad never known speech, and an almost equally speechless concern. Daisy\nas soon as she was free had made her way to the window; there the child\nwas, on her knees, her head on her window sill, and weeping as if her\nvery heart were melting and flowing away drop by drop. And June stood\nlike a dark statue, looking at her; the wrinkles in her forehead scarce\ntestifying to the work going on under it. She wanted first of all to see\nDaisy in bed; but it seemed hopeless to speak to her; and there the\nlittle round head lay on the window-sill, and the moonbeams poured in\nlovingly over it. June stood still and never stirred.\n\nIt was a long while before Daisy's sobs began to grow fainter, and June\nventured to put in her word and got Daisy to lay herself on the bed\nagain. Then June went off after another sort of medicine of her own\ndevising, despising the drops which Mr. Randolph had given her. Without\nmaking a confidant of the housekeeper, she contrived to get from her\nthe materials to make Daisy a cup of arrowroot with wine and spices.\nJune knew well how to be a cook when she pleased; and what she brought\nto Daisy was, she knew, as good as a cook could make it. She found the\nchild lying white and still on the bed, and not asleep, nor dead, which\nJune had almost feared at first sight of her. She didn't want the\narrowroot; she said.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, s'pose you take it?\" said June. \"It won't do you no\nhurt--maybe it'll put you to sleep.\"\n\nDaisy was perhaps too weak to resist. She rose half up and eat the\narrowroot, slowly, and without a word. It did put a little strength into\nher, as June had said. But when she gave back the cup and let herself\nfall again upon her pillow, Daisy said,\n\n\"June, I'd like to die.\"\n\n\"O why, Miss Daisy?\" said June.\n\n\"Jesus knows that I love him now; and I'd like--\" said the child\nsteadying her voice--\"I'd like--to be in heaven!\"\n\n\"O no, Miss Daisy--not yet; you've got a great deal to do in the world\nfirst.\"\n\n\"Jesus knows I love him--\" repeated the child.\n\n\"Miss Daisy, he knowed it before--he's the Lord.\"\n\n\"Yes, but--he wants people to _shew_ they love him, June.\"\n\n\"Do, don't! Miss Daisy,\" said June half crying. \"Can't ye go to sleep?\nDo, now!\"\n\nIt was but three minutes more, and Daisy had complied with her request.\nJune watched and saw that the sleep was real; went about the room on her\nnoiseless feet; came back to Daisy's bed, and finally went off for her\nown pillow, with which she lay down on the matting at the foot of the\nbed, and there passed the remainder of the night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\nThe sun was shining bright the next morning, and Daisy sat on one of the\nseats under the trees, half in sunshine, half in shadow. It was after\nbreakfast, and she had been scarcely seen or heard that morning before.\nRansom, came up.\n\n\"Daisy, do you want to go fishing?\"\n\n\"No, I think not.\"\n\n\"You don't! What are you going to do?\"\n\n\"I am not going to do anything.\"\n\n\"I don't believe it. What ails you? Mother said I was to ask you--and\nthere you sit like a wet feather. I am glad I am not a girl, however!\"\n\nRansom went off, and a very faint colour rose in Daisy's cheek.\n\n\"Are you not well, Daisy?\" said Mr. Randolph, who had also drawn near.\n\n\"I am well, papa.\"\n\n\"You don't look so. What's the matter, that you don't go a fishing, when\nRansom has the consideration to ask you?\"\n\nDaisy's tranquillity was very nearly overset. But she maintained it, and\nonly answered without the change of a muscle, \"I have not the\ninclination, papa.\" Indeed her face was _too_ quiet; and Mr. Randolph\nputting that with its colourless hue, and the very sweet upward look her\neyes had first given him, was not satisfied. He went away to the\nbreakfast room.\n\n\"Felicia,\" said he low, bending down by his wife,--\"did you have any\nwords with Daisy last night?\"\n\n\"Has she told you about it?\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"Told me what? What is there to tell?\"\n\n\"Nothing, on my part,\" answered the lady nonchalantly. \"Daisy may tell\nyou what she pleases.\"\n\n\"Felicia,\" said Mr. Randolph looking much vexed, \"that child has borne\ntoo much already. She is ill.\"\n\n\"It is her own fault. I told you, Mr. Randolph, I would as lief not have\na child as not have her mind me. She shall do what I bid her, if she\ndies for it.\"\n\n\"It won't come to that,\" said Mrs. Gary. Mr. Randolph turned on his\nheel.\n\nMeantime, another person who had seen with sorrow Daisy's pale face, and\nhad half a guess as to the cause of it, came up to her side and sat\ndown.\n\n\"Daisy, what is to be done to-day?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\n\"You don't feel like storming the heights, this morning?\"\n\nAgain, to him also, the glance of Daisy's eye was so very sweet and so\nvery wistful, that the captain was determined in a purpose he had half\nhad in his mind.\n\n\"What do you say to a long expedition, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't feel like driving, Capt. Drummond.\"\n\n\"No, but suppose I drive,--and we will leave Loupe at home for to-day. I\nwant to go as far as Schroeder's Hill, to look after trilobites; and I\ndo not want anybody with me but you. Shall we go?\"\n\n\"What are those things, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Trilobites?\"\n\n\"Yes. What are they?\"\n\n\"Curious things, Daisy! They are a kind of fish that are found on land.\"\n\n\"Fish on land! But then they can't be fish, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Suppose we go and see,\" said the captain; \"and then if we find any, we\nshall know more about them than we do now.\"\n\n\"But how do you catch them?\"\n\n\"With my hands, I suppose.\"\n\n\"With your _hands_, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Really I don't know any other way,--unless your hands will help. Come!\nshall we go and try?\"\n\nDaisy slowly rose up, very mystified, but with a little light of\ninterest and curiosity breaking on her face. The Captain moved off on\nhis part to get ready, well satisfied that he was doing a good thing.\n\nIt went to the Captain's heart nevertheless, for he had a kind one, to\nsee all the way how pale and quiet Daisy's face was. She asked him no\nmore about trilobites, she did not talk about anything; the subjects the\nCaptain started were soon let drop. And not because she was too ill to\ntalk, for Daisy's eye was thoughtfully clear and steady, and the Captain\nhad no doubt but she was busy enough in her own mind with things she did\nnot bring out. What sort of things? he was very curious to know. For he\nhad never seen Daisy's face so exceeding sweet in its expression as he\nsaw it now; though the cheeks were pale and worn, there was in her eye\nwhenever it was lifted to his a light of something hidden that the\nCaptain could not read. It was true. Daisy had sat stunned and dull all\nthe morning until he came with his proposal for the drive; and with the\nfirst stir of excitement in getting ready, a returning tide of love had\nfilled the dry places in Daisy's heart; and it was full now of feelings\nthat only wanted a chance to come out. Meanwhile she sat as still as a\nmouse and as grave as a judge.\n\nThe hill for which they were bound was some dozen or more miles away. It\nwas a wild rough place. Arrived at the foot of it, they could go no\nfurther by the road; the Captain tied his horse to a tree, and he and\nDaisy scrambled up the long winding ascent, thick with briars and\nbushes, or strewn with pieces of rock and shaded with a forest of old\ntrees. This was hard walking for Daisy to-day; she did not feel like\nstruggling with any difficulties, and her poor little feet almost\nrefused to carry her through the roughnesses of the last part of the\nway. She was very glad when they reached the ground where the Captain\nwanted to explore, and she could sit down and be still. It was quite on\nthe other side of the mountain; a strange looking place. The face of the\nhill was all bare of trees, and seemed to be nothing but rock; and\njagged and broken as if quarriers had been there cutting and blasting.\nNothing but a steep surface of broken rock; bare enough; but it was from\nthe sun, and Daisy chose the first smooth fragment to sit down upon.\nThen what a beautiful place! For from that rocky seat, her eye had a\nrange over acres and acres of waving slopes of tree tops; down in the\nvalley at the mountain foot, and up and down so many slopes and ranges\nof swelling and falling hillsides and dells, that the eye wandered from\none to another and another, softer and softer as the distance grew, or\nbrighter and more varied as the view came nearer home. A wilderness all,\nno roof of a house nor smoke from a chimney even; but those sunny ranges\nof hills, over which now and then a cloud shadow was softly moving, and\nwhich finished in a dim blue horizon.\n\n\"Well, are you going to sit here?\" said the Captain, \"or will you help\nme to hunt up my fishes?\"\n\n\"O I'll sit here,\" said Daisy. She did not believe much in the success\nof the Captain's hunt.\n\n\"Won't you be afraid, while I am going all over creation?\"\n\n\"Of what?\" said Daisy.\n\nThe Captain laughed a little and went off; thinking however not so much\nof his trilobites as of the sweet fearless look the little face had\ngiven him. Uneasy about the child too, for Daisy's face looked not as he\nliked to see it look. But where got she that steady calm, and curious\nfearlessness. \"She is a timid child,\" thought the Captain as he climbed\nover the rocks; \"or she was, the other night.\"\n\nBut the Captain and Daisy were looking with different eyes; no wonder\nthey did not find the same things. In all that sunlit glow over hill and\nvalley, which warmed every tree-top, Daisy had seen only another\nlight,--the love of the Lord Jesus Christ. With that love round her,\nover her, how could she fear anything. She sat a little while resting\nand thinking; then being weary and feeling weak, she slipped down on the\nground, and like Jacob taking a stone for her pillow, she went to sleep.\n\nSo the Captain found her, every time he came back from his hunt to look\nafter his charge; he let her sleep, and went off again. He had a\ntroublesome hunt. At last he found some traces of what he sought; then\nhe forgot Daisy in his eagerness, and it was after a good long interval\nthe last time that he came to Daisy's side again. She was awake.\n\n\"What have you got?\" she said as he came up with his hands full.\n\n\"I have got my fish.\"\n\n\"Have you! O where is it?\"\n\n\"How do you do?\" said the Captain sitting down beside her.\n\n\"I do very well. Where is the fish? You have got nothing but stones\nthere, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\nThe Captain without speaking displayed one of the stones he had in his\nhand. It looked very curious. Upon a smooth flat surface, where the\nstone had been split, there was a raised part which had the appearance\nof some sort of animal; but this too seemed to be stone, and was black\nand shining, though its parts were distinct.\n\n\"What is that, Capt. Drummond? It is a stone.\"\n\n\"It is a fish.\"\n\n\"_That_?\"\n\n\"That.\"\n\n\"But you are laughing.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" said the Captain, as grave as a senator. \"It's a fish for all\nthat.\"\n\n\"This curious black thing?\"\n\n\"Precisely.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"What sort of a fish?\"\n\n\"Daisy, have you had any luncheon?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Then you had better discuss that subject first. Soldiers cannot get\nalong without their rations, you'll find.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Rations?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Daily bread, Daisy. Of one sort or another as the case may be. Where is\nthat basket?\"\n\nDaisy had charge of it and would not let him take it out of her hands.\nShe unfolded napkins, and permitted the Captain to help himself when\nshe had all things ready. Then bread and butter and salad were found to\nbe very refreshing. But while Daisy eat, she looked at the trilobite.\n\n\"Please tell me what it is, Capt, Drummond.\"\n\n\"It is a Crustacean.\"\n\n\"But you know I don't know what a Crustacean is.\"\n\n\"A Crustacean, is a fellow who wears his bones on the outside.\"\n\n\"Capt. Drummond! What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well I mean that, Daisy. Did you never hear of the way soldiers used to\narm themselves for the fight in old times? in plates of jointed armour?\"\n\n\"Yes, I know they did.\"\n\n\"Well these fellows are armed just so--only they do not put on steel or\nbrass, but hard plates of bone or horn that do exactly as well, and are\njointed just as nicely.\"\n\n\"And those are Crustaceans?\"\n\n\"Those are Crustaceans.\"\n\n\"And was this thing armed so?\"\n\n\"Splendidly. Don't you see those marks?--those shew the rings of his\narmour. Those rings fitted so nicely, and played so easily upon one\nanother, that he could curl himself all up into a ball if he liked, and\nbring his armour all round him; for it was only on his back, so to\nspeak.\"\n\n\"And how came he into this rock, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Ah! how did he?\" said the Captain, looking contentedly at the\ntrilobite. \"That's more than I can tell you, Daisy. Only he lived before\nthe rock was made, and when it was made, it wrapped him up in it,\nsomehow; and now we have got him!\"\n\n\"But, Capt. Drummond I----\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"When do you suppose this rock was made?\"\n\n\"Can't just say, Daisy. Some rocks are young, and some are old, you\nknow. This is one of the old rocks.\"\n\n\"But how do you know, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"I know by the signs,\" said the Captain.\n\n\"What is an old rock? how old?\"\n\n\"I am sure I can't say, Daisy. Only that a _young_ rock is apt to be a\ngood deal older than Adam and Eve.\"\n\n\"How can you tell that?\"\n\n\"When you see a man's hair grey, can't you tell that he is old?\"\n\n\"But there are no grey hairs in rocks?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes, there are. Trilobites do just as well.\"\n\n\"But I say,\" said Daisy laughing, \"how can you tell that the rock is\nold? You wouldn't know that grey hairs were a sign, if you saw them on\nyoung people.\"\n\n\"Pretty well, Daisy!\" said the Captain, delighted to see her interested\nin something again;--\"pretty well! But you will have to study something\nbetter than me, to find out about all that. Only it is true.\"\n\n\"And you were not laughing?\"\n\n\"Not a bit of it. That little fellow, I suppose, lived a thousand\nmillion years ago; may as well say a thousand as anything.\"\n\n\"I can't see how you can tell,\" said Daisy, looking puzzled.\n\n\"That was a strange old time, when he was swimming about--or when most\nof them were. There were no trees, to speak of; and no grass or anything\nbut sea-weed and mosses; and no living things but fishes and oysters and\nsuch creatures?\"\n\n\"Where were the beasts then, and the birds?\"\n\n\"They were not made yet. That's the reason, I suppose, there was no\ngrass for them to eat.\"\n\nDaisy looked down at the trilobite; and looked profoundly thoughtful.\nThat little, shiny, black, stony thing, _that_ had lived and flourished\nso many ages ago! Once more she looked up into the Captain's face to see\nif he were trifling with her. He shook his head.\n\n\"True as a book, Daisy.\"\n\n\"But Capt. Drummond, please, how do you know it?\"\n\n\"Just think, Daisy,--this little fellow frolicked away in the mud at the\nbottom of the sea, with his half moons of eyes--and round him swam all\nsorts of fishes that do not live now-a-days; fishes with plate armour\nlike himself; everybody was in armour.\"\n\n\"Half moons of eyes, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Yes. He had, or some of them had, two semi-circular walls of eyes--one\nlooked before and behind and all round to the right, and the other\nlooked before and behind and all round at the left; and in each wall\nwere two hundred eyes.\"\n\nThe Captain smiled to himself to see Daisy's face at this statement,\nthough outwardly he kept perfectly grave. Daisy's own simple orbs were\nso full and intent. She looked from him to the fossil.\n\n\"But Capt. Drummond----\" she began slowly.\n\n\"Well, Daisy? After you have done, I shall begin.\"\n\n\"Did you say that this thing lived at the bottom of the sea?\"\n\n\"Precisely.\"\n\n\"But then how could he get up here?\"\n\n\"Seems difficult, don't it?\" said the Captain. \"Well, Daisy, the people\nthat know, tell us that all the land we have was once at the bottom of\nthe sea; so these rocks had their turn.\"\n\n\"All the land?\" said Daisy. \"O that is what the Bible says!\"\n\n\"The Bible!\" said the Captain in his turn. \"Pray where, if you please?\"\n\n\"Why don't you know, Capt. Drummond?--when God said, 'Let the waters be\ngathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.'\"\n\nThe Captain whistled softly, with an amused face, and stealthily watched\nDaisy, whose countenance was full of the most beautiful interest.\nAlmost lovingly she bent over the trilobite, thinking her own thoughts;\nwhile her friend presently from observing the expression of her face\nbegan to take notice anew of the thin and pale condition of the cheeks,\nthat had been much healthier a week ago.\n\n\"You like to look at armour, Daisy,\" he said.\n\nShe made no answer.\n\n\"Are you still in the mind to 'die on the field of battle?'\"\n\nHe guessed the question would touch her, but curiosity got the better of\nsympathy with him. He was not prepared for the wistful, searching look\nthat Daisy gave him instantly, nor for the indescribable tenderness and\nsorrow that mingled in it. As before, she did not answer.\n\n\"Forgive me, Daisy,\" said the Captain involuntarily \"You know you told\nme you were a soldier.\"\n\nDaisy's heart was very tender, and she had been living all the morning\nin that peculiar nearness to Christ which those know who suffer for him.\nShe looked at the Captain, and burst into tears.\n\n\"You told me you were a soldier--\" he repeated, not quite knowing what\nto say.\n\n\"O Capt. Drummond!\" said Daisy weeping,--\"I wish you were!\"\n\nIt stung the Captain. He knew what she meant. But he quietly asked her\nwhy?\n\n\"Because then,\" said Daisy, \"you would know Jesus; and I want you to be\nhappy.\"\n\n\"Why Daisy,\" said Capt. Drummond, though his conscience smote him,--\"you\ndon't seem to me very happy lately.\"\n\n\"Don't I?\" she said. \"But I _am_ happy. I only wish everybody else was\nhappy too.\"\n\nShe presently wiped her eyes and stood up. \"Capt. Drummond,\" said she,\n\"don't you think we can find another of these things?\"\n\nAnything to change the course matters had taken, the Captain thought,\nso he gave ready assent; and he and Daisy entered upon a most lively\nrenewed quest among the rocks that covered all that mountain side. Daisy\nwas more eager than he; she wanted very much to have a trilobite for her\nown keeping; the difficulty was, she did not know how to look for it.\nAll she could do was to follow her friend and watch all his doings and\ndirect him to new spots in the mountain that he had not tried. In the\ncourse of this business the Captain did some adventurous climbing; it\nwould have distressed Daisy if she had not been so intent upon his\nobject; but as it was she strained her little head back to look at him,\nwhere he picked his way along at a precipitous height above her,\nsometimes holding to a bramble or sapling, and sometimes depending on\nhis own good footing and muscular agility. In this way of progress,\nwhile making good his passage from one place to another, the Captain's\nfoot in leaping struck upon a loosely poised stone or fragment of rock.\nIt rolled from under him. A spring saved the Captain, but the huge stone\nonce set a going continued its way down the hill.\n\n\"Daisy--look out!\" he shouted.\n\n\"Have you got one?\" said Daisy, springing forward. She misunderstood his\nwarning; and her bound brought her exactly under the rolling stone. She\nnever saw it till it had reached her and knocked her down.\n\n\"Hollo, Daisy!\" shouted Capt. Drummond,--\"is all right?\"\n\nHe got no answer, listened, shouted again, and then made two jumps from\nwhere he stood to the bottom. Daisy lay on the ground, her little foot\nunder the stone; her eyes closed, her face paler than ever. Without\nstopping to think how heavy the stone was, with a tremendous exertion of\nstrength the young man pushed it from where it lay and released the\nfoot; but he was very much afraid damage was done. \"It couldn't help\nit\"--said the Captain to himself as he looked at the great piece of\nrock; but the first thing was to get Daisy's eyes open. There was no\nspring near that he knew of; he went back to their lunch basket and\nbrought from it a bottle of claret--all he could find--and with it\nwetted Daisy's lips and brow. The claret did perhaps as well as cold\nwater; for Daisy revived; but as soon as she sat up and began to move,\nher words were broken off by a scream of pain.\n\n\"What is it, Daisy?\" said the Captain. \"Your foot?--that confounded\nstone!--can't you move it?\"\n\n\"No,\"--said Daisy with a short breath, \"I can't move it. Please excuse\nme, Capt. Drummond--I couldn't help crying out that minute; it hurt me\nso. It doesn't hurt me so much now when I keep still.\"\n\nThe Captain kept still too, wishing very much that he and Daisy and the\ntrilobites were all back in their places again. How long could they sit\nstill up there on the mountain? He looked at the sun; he looked at his\nwatch. It was three o'clock. He looked at Daisy.\n\n\"Let me see,\" said he, \"if anything is the matter. Hard to find out,\nthrough this thick boot! How does it feel now?\"\n\n\"It pains me very much, these two or three minutes.\"\n\nThe Captain looked at Daisy's face again, and then without more ado took\nhis knife and cut the lacings of the boot. \"How is that?\" he asked.\n\n\"That is a _great_ deal better.\"\n\n\"If it hadn't been, you would have fainted again directly. Let us\nsee--Daisy, I think I had better cut the boot off. You have sprained the\nankle, or something, and it is swollen.\"\n\nDaisy said nothing, and the Captain went on very carefully and tenderly\nto cut the boot off. It was a very necessary proceeding. The foot was\nterribly swollen already. Again the Captain mused, looking from the\nchild's foot to her face.\n\n\"How is the pain now?\"\n\n\"It aches a good deal.\"\n\nHe saw it was vastly worse than her words made it.\n\n\"My little soldier,\" said he, \"how do you suppose I am going to get you\ndown the hill, to where we left our carriage?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Daisy. \"You can't carry me.\"\n\n\"What makes you think so?\"\n\n\"I don't _know_,\" said Daisy,--\"but I don't think you can.\" And she was\na little afraid, he saw.\n\n\"I will be as careful as I can, and you must be as brave as you can, for\nI don't see any other way, Daisy. And I think, the sooner we go the\nbetter; so that this foot may have some cold or hot lotion or\nsomething.\"\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" said Daisy hastily.\n\nAnd raising herself up to a sitting position, she bent over her little\nhead and covered her eyes with her hand. The Captain felt very\nstrangely. He guessed in a minute what she was about; that in pain and\nfear, Daisy was seeking an unseen help, and trusting in it; and in awed\nsilence the young officer was as still as she, till the little head was\nraised.\n\n\"Now,\" she said, \"you may take me.\"\n\nThe Captain always had a good respect for Daisy; but he certainly felt\nnow as if he had the dignity of twenty-five years in his arms. He raised\nher as gently as possible from the ground; he knew the changed position\nof the foot gave her new pain, for a flush rose to Daisy's brow, but she\nsaid not one word either of suffering or expostulation. Her friend\nstepped with her as gently as he could over the rough way; Daisy\nsupported herself partly by an arm round his neck, and was utterly mute,\ntill they were passing the place of luncheon; then she broke out,--\n\n\"Oh! the trilobite!\"\n\n\"Never mind the trilobite.\"\n\n\"But are you going to lose it, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"Not if you want it. I'll come back for it another day--if I break my\nfurlough.\"\n\n\"I could hold it in my other hand--if I had it.\"\n\nThe Captain thought the bottle of claret might chance to be the most\nwanted thing; nevertheless he stopped, stooped, and picked up the\nfossil. Daisy grasped it; and they went on their way down the mountain.\nIt was a very trying way to both of them. The Captain was painfully\nanxious to step easily, which among rocks and bushes he could not always\ndo, especially with a weight in his arms; and Daisy's foot hanging down,\ngave her dreadful pain because of the increased rush of blood into it.\nHer little lips were firmly set together many a time, to avoid giving\nher friend the distress of knowing how much she suffered; and once the\nCaptain heard a low whisper not meant for his ear but uttered very close\nto it,--\"O Lord Jesus, help me.\" It went through and through the\nCaptain's mind and heart. But he only set his teeth too, and plunged on,\nas fast as he could softly, down the rough mountain side. And if ever\nanybody was glad, that was he when they reached the wagon.\n\nThere was a new difficulty now, for the little vehicle had no place in\nwhich Daisy could remain lying down. The seat was fast; the Captain\ncould not remove it. He did the best he could. He put Daisy sideways on\nthe seat, so that the hurt foot could be stretched out and kept in one\nposition upon it; and he himself stood behind her, holding the reins. In\nthat way he served as a sort of support for the little head which he\nsometimes feared would sink in a swoon; for while she lay on the ground\nand he was trying measures with the wagon, the closed eyes and pale\ncheeks had given the Captain a good many desperately uneasy thoughts.\nNow Daisy sat still, leaning against him, with her eyes open; and he\ndrove as tenderly as he could. He had a frisky horse to manage, and the\nCaptain congratulated himself for this occasion at least that he was a\nskilled whip. Still the motion of the wagon was very trying to Daisy,\nand every jar went through the Captain's foot up to his heart.\n\n\"How is it, Daisy?\" he asked after they had gone some distance.\n\n\"It isn't good, Capt. Drummond,\" she said softly.\n\n\"Bad, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Rather.\"\n\n\"I have to make this fellow go slowly, you see, or he would shake you\ntoo much. Could you bear to go faster?\"\n\n\"I'll try.\"\n\nThe Captain tried cautiously. But his question, and possibly Daisy's\nanswer, were stimulated by the view of the western horizon, over which\nclouds were gathering thick and fast. Could they get home in time? that\nwas the doubt in both minds.\n\n\"Capt. Drummond,\" said Daisy presently, \"I can't bear this shaking.\"\n\n\"Must I go slower?\"\n\n\"If you please.\"\n\n\"Daisy, do you see how the sky bodes yonder? What do you suppose we\nshall do if those clouds come up?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" she answered. But she said it with such a quiet tone of\nvoice, that the Captain wondered anew. He had hoped that her fears might\ninduce her to bear the pain.\n\n\"Daisy, do you think it will come up a storm?\"\n\n\"I think it will.\"\n\n\"How soon? you know the signs better than I do. How soon will it be\nhere?\"\n\n\"It will come soon, I think.\"\n\nYet there was no anxiety in Daisy's voice. It was perfectly calm, though\nfeeble. The Captain held his peace, looked at the clouds, and drove on;\nbut not as fast as he would have liked. He knew it was a ride of great\nsuffering to his little charge, for she became exceedingly pale; still\nshe said nothing, except her soft replies to his questions. The western\nclouds rolled up in great volumes of black and grey, rolling and\ngathering and spreading at a magnificent rate. The sun was presently hid\nbehind the fringe of this curtain of blackness; by and by the mountains\nwere hid beneath a further fringe of rain; a very thick fringe. Between,\nthe masses of vapour in the sky seemed charging for a tremendous\noutburst. It had not come yet when the slow going little wagon passed\nthrough Crum Elbow; but by this time the Captain had seen distant darts\nof lightning, and even heard the far-off warning growl of the thunder. A\nnew idea started up in the Captain's mind; his frisky horse might not\nlike lightning.\n\n\"Daisy,\" said he, \"my poor little Daisy--we cannot get to Melbourne--we\nmust stop and wait a little somewhere. Is there any house you like\nbetter than another? I had best turn back to the village.\"\n\n\"No, don't,--stop!\" cried Daisy, \"don't go back, Capt. Drummond; there\nis a place nearer. Turn up that road--right round there. It is very\nnear.\"\n\nThe Captain obeyed, but pulled in the reins presently as he heard a\nnearer growl of the coming thunder. \"Daisy, where is it? I don't see\nanything.\"\n\n\"There it is, Capt. Drummond--that little house.\"\n\n\"_That_?\" said the Captain; but there was no more time now for retreat\nor question. He sprang out, threw the reins two or three times over the\ngate-post; then executed the very difficult operation of taking Daisy\nout of the wagon. He could not do it without hurting her; she fainted on\nhis shoulder; and it was in this state, white and senseless, that he\ncarried her into Mrs. Benoit's cottage. The old woman had seen them and\nmet him at the door. Seeing the state of the case, she immediately and\nwith great quickness spread a clean covering over a comfortable chintz\ncouch which stood under the window, and Daisy was laid there from her\nfriend's arms. Juanita applied water and salts too, deftly; and then\nasked the Captain, \"What is it, sir?\"\n\n\"There's a foot hurt here,\" said the Captain, giving more attention to\nthe hurt than he had had chance to do before. \"Pray heaven it is not\nbroken! I am afraid it is,--the ankle--or dislocated.\"\n\n\"Then Heaven knows _why_ it is broken,\" said the old woman quietly. \"The\ngentleman will go for a doctor, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes, that must be the first thing,\" said Capt. Drummond gravely. \"Where\nshall I find him?\"\n\n\"Dr. Sandford--the gentleman, knows the road to Mr. St. Leonard's?\"\n\n\"Yes--the Craigs--I know.\"\n\n\"Dr. Sandford is half way there--where the gentleman remembers a great\nbrown house in the middle of the cedar trees.\"\n\nThe Captain beat his brain to remember, thought he did, and was starting\naway, but turned back to see Daisy's eyes open first; fearing lest she\nmight be alarmed if he were not by her when she came to herself. There\nwas a bright flash and near peal of thunder at the moment. Juanita\nlooked up.\n\n\"The gentleman will not fear the storm? There is work _here_\"--touching\nthe foot.\n\nThe Captain remembered that Daisy herself had directed him to the house,\nand dashed away again. The clouds were growing blacker every moment. In\nthe darkening light Juanita bent over Daisy and saw her eyes open.\n\n\"Does my little lady know Juanita?\"\n\nDaisy sighed, looked round the room, and then seemed to recollect\nherself.\n\n\"O I am here!\" she said. \"Where is Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"The gentleman is gone for the doctor, to see to the hurt foot. How is\nit now, dear?\"\n\n\"It hurts me a good deal.\"\n\nJuanita's first business was to take off the stocking; this could only\nbe done by cutting it down. When it was removed, a very\nsorrowful-looking little foot was seen. Juanita covered it up lightly,\nand then turned her attention again to Daisy's pale face.\n\n\"What can I give my little lady?\"\n\n\"I am Daisy Randolph.\"\n\n\"What may I do for Miss Daisy? to give her some comfort.\"\n\n\"Juanita,--I wish you would pray for me again.\"\n\n\"What does Miss Daisy want of the Lord?\"\n\n\"My foot hurts me very much, and I want to be patient. And, Juanita, I\nwant to thank him too.\"\n\n\"What for, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"Because--I love him; and he has made me so happy.\"\n\n\"Praise the Lord!\" came with a most glad outburst from Juanita's lips;\nbut then she knelt down, and so uttered her warm petitions for help\nneeded and so her deep thanksgiving for help rendered, that Daisy was\ngreatly overcome and poured out her tears as the prayer went on. When it\nwas ended, Juanita went about her room for a little while, making\ncertain arrangements that she foresaw would be necessary; then came and\nsat down. All this while the storm had been furious; the lightning\nhardly ceased, or the thunder, and both were near; but the two inmates\nof the little cottage seemed hardly to be conscious what was going on\noutside its walls. There was a slight lessening now of the storm's fury.\n\n\"Has it gone well with my little lady then, since she gave Juanita the\nrose branch?\"\n\nThis was the new opening of conversation. Daisy hesitated a little what\nto answer; not for want of confidence, for there was something about the\nfine old woman that had won her completely.\n\n\"I don't know\"--she said at length, slowly. \"It has been very hard to do\nright, Juanita.\"\n\n\"But has my little lady kept her Lord's words?\"\n\n\"Yes, Juanita, I did; but I don't know whether I should, if it hadn't\nbeen for what you said.\"\n\n\"And did she meet the trouble too?\"\n\nJuanita saw that she had, for a flush rose on Daisy's poor pale cheeks,\nand her face was strangely grave. She did not answer the question\neither; only as the flash passed away she looked placidly up and said,\n\n\"I am not in trouble now, Juanita.\"\n\n\"Bless the Lord!\" was the utterance of Juanita's heart. \"The Lord knows\nhow to deliver out of trouble, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Daisy. \"O!\"--she exclaimed suddenly, with a new light\nbreaking all over her face--but then she stopped.\n\n\"What is it, my love?\"\n\n\"Nothing--only I am so glad now that my foot is hurt.\"\n\nJuanita's thanksgiving rose to her lips again, but this time she only\nwhispered it; turning away, perhaps to hide the moisture which had\nsprung to her eyes. For she understood more of the case than Daisy's few\nwords would have told most people.\n\nMeantime Capt. Drummond and his frisky horse had a ride which was likely\nto make both of them remember that thunderstorm. They reached Dr.\nSandford's house; but then the Captain found that the doctor was not at\nhome; where he was, the servant could not say. The only other thing to\ndo seemed to be to go on to Melbourne and at least let Daisy have the\ncounsel of her father and mother. To Melbourne the Captain drove as fast\nas his horse's state of mind would permit.\n\nThe drawing room was blazing with lights as usual, and full of talkers.\n\n\"Hollo!\" cried Gary McFarlane, as the Captain entered,--\"here he is. We\nhad given you up for a fossil, Drummond--and no idea of your turning up\nagain for another thousand years. Shouldn't have known where to look\nfor you either, after this storm--among the aqueous or the igneous\nrocks. Glad to see you! Let me make you acquainted with Dr. Sandford.\"\n\n\"I am glad to see you, sir,\" said the Captain involuntarily, as he shook\nhands with this latter.\n\n\"You haven't left Daisy somewhere, changed into a stone lily?\" pursued\nMcFarlane.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Captain. \"Dr. Sandford, I am going to ask you to get\nready to ride with me. Mr. Randolph, I have left Daisy by the way. She\nhas hurt her foot--I threw down a stone upon it--and the storm obliged\nher to defer getting home. I left her at a cottage near Crum Elbow. I am\ngoing to take Dr. Sandford to see what the foot wants.\"\n\nMr. Randolph ordered the carriage, and then told his wife.\n\n\"Does it storm yet?\" she asked.\n\n\"The thunder and lightning are ceasing, but it rains hard.\"\n\nThe lady stepped out of the room to get ready, and in a few minutes she\nand her husband, Capt. Drummond and the doctor, were seated in the\ncarriage and on their way to Mrs. Benoit's cottage. Capt. Drummond told\nhow the accident happened; after that he was silent; and so were the\nrest of the party, till the carriage stopped.\n\nMrs. Benoit's cottage looked oddly, when all these grand people poured\ninto it. But the mistress of the cottage never looked more like herself,\nand her reception of the grand people was as simple as that she had\ngiven to Daisy. Little Daisy herself lay just where her friend the\nCaptain had left her, but looked with curious expression at the others\nwho entered with him now. The father and mother advanced to the head of\nthe couch; the Captain and Juanita stood at the foot. The doctor kept\nhimself a little back.\n\n\"Are you suffering, Daisy?\" Mr. Randolph asked.\n\nThe child's eyes went up to him. \"Papa--_yes_!\"\n\nShe had begun quietly, but the last word was given with more than quiet\nexpression, and the muscles about her lips quivered. Mr. Randolph\nstooped and pressed his own lips upon them.\n\n\"I have brought Dr. Sandford to look at your foot, Daisy. He will see\nwhat it wants.\"\n\n\"Will he hurt me, papa?\" said the child apprehensively.\n\n\"I hope not. No more than is necessary.\"\n\n\"It hurts to have anybody touch it, papa.\"\n\n\"He must touch it, Daisy. Can't you bear it bravely?\"\n\n\"Wait, papa!\"--\n\nAnd again the child clasped her two hands over her face and was still.\nMr. Randolph had no idea what for, though he humoured her and waited.\nThe Captain knew, for he had seen more of Daisy that day, and he looked\nvery grave indeed. The black woman knew, for as Daisy's hands fell from\nher face, she uttered a deep, soft \"Amen!\" which no one understood but\none little heart.\n\n\"Papa--I am ready. He may look now.\"\n\nJuanita removed the covering from the foot, and the doctor stepped\nforward. Daisy's eyes rested on him, and she saw gratefully a remarkably\nfine and pleasant countenance. Mrs. Randolph's eyes rested on the foot,\nand she uttered an exclamation. It was the first word she had uttered.\nEverybody else was still, while the doctor passed his hands over and\nround the distressed ankle and foot, but tenderly, and in a way that\ngave Daisy very little pain. Then he stepped back and beckoned Juanita\nto a consultation. Juanita disappeared, and Dr. Sandford came up to Mr.\nRandolph and spoke in a low tone. Then Mr. Randolph turned again to\nDaisy.\n\n\"What is it, papa?\" asked the child.\n\n\"Daisy, to make your foot well, Dr. Sandford will be obliged to do\nsomething that will hurt you a little--will you try and bear it? He will\nnot be long about it.\"\n\n\"What is the matter with my foot, papa?\"\n\n\"Something that the doctor can set right in a few minutes--if you will\ntry and bear a little pain.\"\n\nA little pain! And Daisy was suffering so much all the while! Again her\nlip trembled.\n\n\"Must he touch me, papa?\"\n\n\"He must touch you.\"\n\nDaisy's hands were clasped to her face again for a minute; after that\nshe lay quite still and quiet. Mr. Randolph kept his post, hardly taking\nhis eye off her; Mrs. Randolph sat down where she had stood; behind the\nhead of Daisy's couch, where her little daughter could not see her; and\nall the party indulged in silence. At length the doctor was ready and\ncame to the foot, attended by Juanita; and Mr. Randolph took one of\nDaisy's hands in his own. With the other the child covered her eyes, and\nso lay, perfectly still, while the doctor set the ankle bone which had\nbeen broken. As the foot also itself had been very much hurt, the\nhandling of necessity gave a great deal of pain, more than the mere\nsetting of the broken bone would have caused. Mr. Randolph could feel\nevery now and then the convulsive closing of Daisy's hand upon his;\nother than that she gave no sign of what she was suffering. One sign of\nwhat another person was feeling, was given as Dr. Sandford bound up the\nfoot and finished his work. It was given in Juanita's deep breathed\n\"Thank the Lord!\" The doctor glanced up at her with a slight smile of\ncuriosity. Capt. Drummond would have said \"Amen,\" if the word had not\nbeen so unaccustomed to his mouth.\n\nMrs. Randolph rose then, and inquired of the doctor what would be the\nbest means of removing Daisy?\n\n\"She must not be moved,\" the doctor said.\n\n\"Not to-night?\"\n\n\"No, madam; nor to-morrow, nor for many days.\"\n\n\"Must she be left _here_?\"\n\n\"If she were out in the weather, I would move her,\" said the doctor;\n\"not if she were under a barn that would shed the rain.\"\n\n\"What harm would it do?\"\n\nThe doctor could not take it upon him to say.\n\n\"But I cannot be with her here,\" said Mrs. Randolph; \"nor anybody else,\nthat I can see.\"\n\n\"Juanita will take care of her,\" said the doctor. \"Juanita is worth an\narmy of nurses. Miss Daisy cannot be better cared for than she will be.\"\n\n\"Will you undertake the charge?\" said Mrs. Randolph, facing round upon\nDaisy's hostess.\n\n\"The Lord has given it to me, madam,--and I love to do my Lord's work,\"\nwas Juanita's answer. She could not have given a better one, if it had\nbeen meant to act as a shot, to drive Mrs. Randolph out of the house.\nThe lady waited but till the doctor had finished his directions which he\nwas giving to the black woman.\n\n\"I don't see,\" then she said to her husband, \"that there is anything to\nbe gained by my remaining here any longer; and if we are to go, the\nsooner we go the better, so that Daisy may be quiet. Dr. Sandford says\nthat is the best thing for her.\"\n\n\"Capt. Drummond will see you home,\" said her husband. \"I shall stay.\"\n\n\"You can't do anything, in this box of a place.\"\n\n\"Unless the child herself desires it, there is no occasion for your\nremaining here over night,\" said the doctor. \"She will be best in quiet,\nand sleep, if she can. You might hinder, if your presence did not help\nher to this.\"\n\n\"What do you say, Daisy?\" said her father tenderly, bending over\nher;--\"shall I stay or go? Which do you wish?\"\n\n\"Papa, you would not be comfortable here. I am not afraid.\"\n\n\"Do you want me to go?\" said her father, putting his face down to hers.\nDaisy clasped her two arms round his neck and kissed him and held him\nwhile she whispered,\n\n\"No, papa, but maybe you had better. There is no place for you, and I am\nnot afraid.\"\n\nHe kissed her silently and repeatedly, and then rose up and went to look\nat the storm. It had ceased; the moon was struggling out between great\nmasses of cloud driving over the face of the sky. Mrs. Randolph stood\nready to go, putting on her \"capuche\" which she had thrown off, and\nJuanita laying her shawl round her shoulders. The doctor stood waiting\nto hand her to the carriage. The Captain watched Daisy, whose eye was\nwistfully fixed on her mother. He watched, and wondered at its very\ngrave, soft expression. There was very little affection in the Captain's\nmind at that moment towards Mrs. Randolph.\n\nThe carriage was ready, and the lady turned round to give a parting look\nat the child. A cold look it was, but Daisy's soft eye never changed.\n\n\"Mamma,\" said she whisperingly, \"won't you kiss me?\"\n\nMrs. Randolph stooped instantly and gave the kiss; it could not be\nrefused, and was fully given; but then she immediately took Doctor\nSandford's arm and went out of the house. The Captain reverently bent\nover Daisy's little hand, and followed her.\n\nThe drive was a very silent one till Dr. Sandford was left at his own\ndoor. So soon as the carriage turned again, Mrs. Randolph broke out.\n\n\"How long did he say, Mr. Randolph, the child must be left at that\nwoman's cottage?\"\n\n\"He said she must not be moved for weeks.\"\n\n\"She might as well stay forever,\" said Mrs. Randolph,--\"for the effect\nit will have. It will take a year to get Daisy back to where she was! I\nwish fanatics would confine their efforts to children that have no one\nelse to care for them.\"\n\n\"What sort of fanaticism has been at work here, Mrs. Randolph?\" the\nCaptain enquired.\n\n\"The usual kind, of course; religious fanaticism. It seems to be\ncatching.\"\n\n\"I have been in dangerous circumstances to day, then,\" said the Captain.\n\"I am afraid I have caught it. I feel as if something was the matter\nwith me.\"\n\n\"It will not improve you,\" said Mrs. Randolph drily.\n\n\"How has it wrought with Daisy?\"\n\n\"Changed the child so that I do not recognize her. She never set up her\nown will before; and now she is as difficult to deal with as possible.\nShe is an impersonation of obstinacy.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, after all, she is only following orders,\" said the Captain\nwith daring coolness. \"A soldier's duty makes him terribly obstinate\nsometimes. You must excuse me,--but you see I cannot help appreciating\nmilitary qualities.\"\n\n\"Will you be good enough to say what you mean?\" the lady asked with\nsufficient displeasure of manner.\n\n\"Only, that I believe in my soul Daisy takes her orders from higher\nauthority than we do. And I have seen to-day--I declare! I have seen a\nstyle of obedience and soldierly following, that would win any sort of a\nfield--ay, and die in it!\" added the Captain musingly. \"It is the sort\nof thing that gets promotion from the ranks.\"\n\n\"How did all this happen to-day?\" asked Mr. Randolph, as the lady was\nnow silent. \"I have heard only a bit of it.\"\n\nIn answer to which, Capt. Drummond went into the details of the whole\nday's experience; told it point by point, and bit by bit; having a\nbenevolent willingness that Daisy's father and mother should know, if\nthey would, with what sort of a spirit they were dealing. He told the\nwhole story; and nobody interrupted him.\n\n\"It is one thing,\" said the Captain thoughtfully as he concluded,--\"it\nis one thing to kneel very devoutly and say after the minister, 'Lord,\nhave mercy upon us, and write all these laws in our hearts;'--I have\ndone that myself; but it gives one an entirely different feeling to see\nsome one in whose heart they are written!\"\n\n\"There is only one thing left for you, Capt. Drummond,\" said Mrs.\nRandolph slightly; \"to quit the army and take orders.\"\n\n\"I am afraid, if I did, you would never want to see me settled in Mr.\nPyne's little church over here,\" the Captain answered, as he helped the\nlady to alight at her own door.\n\n\"Not till Daisy is safely married,\" said Mrs. Randolph laughing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\nTill the sound of the carriage wheels had died away in the distance,\nJuanita stood at the door looking after them; although the trees and the\ndarkness prevented her seeing anything along the road further than a few\nyards. When the rustle of the breeze among the branches was the only\nthing left to hear, beside the dripping of the rain drops shaken from\nthe leaves, Juanita shut the door and came to Daisy. The child was lying\nwhite and still, with her eyes closed. Very white and thin the little\nface looked, indeed; and under each eyelid lay a tear glistening, that\nhad forced its way so far into notice. Juanita said not a word just\nthen; she bustled about and made herself busy. Not that Juanita's busy\nways were ever bustling in reality; she was too good a nurse for that;\nbut she had several things to do. The first was to put up a screen at\nthe foot of Daisy's couch. She lay just a few feet from the door, and\neverybody coming to the door and having it opened, could look in if he\npleased; and so Daisy would have no privacy at all. That would not do;\nJuanita's wits went to work to mend the matter. Her little house had\nbeen never intended for more than one person. There was another room in\nit, to be sure, where Mrs. Benoit's own bed was; so that Daisy could\nhave the use and possession of this outer room all to herself.\n\nJuanita went about her business too noiselessly to induce even those\nclosed eyelids to open. She fetched a tolerably large clothes-horse from\nsomewhere--some shed or out-building; this she set at the foot of the\ncouch, and hung an old large green moreen curtain over it. Where the\ncurtain came from, one of Mrs. Benoit's great locked chests knew; there\nwere two or three such chests in the inner room, with more treasures\nthan a green moreen curtain stowed away in them. The curtain was too\nlarge for the clothes-horse to hold up; it lay over the floor. Juanita\ngot screws and cords; fixed one screw in the wall, another in the\nceiling, and at last succeeded in stretching the curtain neatly on the\ncords and the clothes-horse, where she wanted it to hang. That was done;\nand Daisy's couch was quite sheltered from any eyes coming to the door\nthat had no business to come further. When it was finished, and the\nscrews and cords put away, Juanita came to Daisy's side. The eyes were\nopen now.\n\n\"That is nice,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"It'll keep you by yourself, my little lady. Now what will she have?\"\n\n\"Nothing--only I am thirsty,\" said Daisy.\n\nJuanita went to the well for some cold water, and mixed with it a\nspoonful of currant jelly. It was refreshing to the poor little dry\nlips.\n\n\"What will my love have next?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Daisy--\"my foot aches a good deal, and all my leg.\nI think--Juanita--I would like it if you would read to me.\"\n\nJuanita took a somewhat careful survey of her, felt her hands, and\nfinally got the book.\n\n\"Is there too much air for my love from that window?\"\n\n\"No, it is nice,\" said Daisy. \"I can see the stars so beautifully, with\nthe clouds driving over the sky. Every now and then they get between me\nand the stars--and then the stars look out again so bright. They seem\nalmost right over me. Please read, Juanita.\"\n\nMrs. Benoit did not consider that it made much difference to Daisy where\nshe read; so she took the chapter that came next in the course of her\nown going through the New Testament. It was the eighth chapter of Mark.\nShe read very pleasantly; not like a common person; and with a slight\nFrench accent. Her voice was always sweet, and the words came through it\nas loved words. It was very pleasant to Daisy to hear her; the long\nchapter was not interrupted by any remark. But when Mrs. Benoit paused\nat the end of it, Daisy said,\n\n\"How can anybody be ashamed of him, Juanita?\"\n\nThe last verse of the chapter has these words--\n\n\"Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this\nadulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be\nashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy\nangels.\"\n\n\"How _can_ anybody be ashamed of him, Juanita?\"\n\n\"They not see the glory of the Lord, my lady.\"\n\n\"But _we_ do not see it yet.\"\n\n\"My love will see it. Juanita has seen it. This little house be all full\nof glory sometimes, when Jesus is here.\"\n\n\"But that is because you love him, Juanita.\"\n\n\"Praise the Lord!\" echoed the black woman. \"He do shew his glory to his\npeople, before he come with the holy angels.\"\n\n\"I don't see how anybody can be _ashamed_ of him,\" Daisy repeated,\nuttering the words as if they contained a simple impossibility.\n\n\"My little lady not know the big world yet. There be ways, that the Lord\nknow and that the people not know.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, Juanita?\"\n\n\"My lady will find it,\" said the black woman folding her arms. \"When all\nthe world go one way, then folks not like to go another way and be\nlooked at; they be ashamed of Christ's words then, and they only think\nthey do not want to be looked at.\"\n\nA colour came all over Daisy's face--a suffusion of colour; and tears\nswam in her eyes.\n\n\"I didn't like to be looked at, the other night!\" she said, in a\nself-accusing tone.\n\n\"Did my love turn and go with the world?\"\n\n\"No, I didn't do that.\"\n\n\"Then Jesus won't turn away neither,\" said the black woman.\n\n\"But I ought not to have felt so, Juanita.\"\n\n\"Maybe. My love is a little child. The good Lord shall 'stablish her and\nkeep her from evil. Now she must not talk no more, but trust the Lord,\nand go to sleep.\"\n\n\"I can't sleep, Juanita--my leg aches so.\"\n\n\"That will be better. Is my love thirsty again?\"\n\n\"Very thirsty! I wish I had some oranges.\"\n\n\"They would be good,\" said Juanita, bringing another glass of jelly and\nwater for Daisy. And then she sat down and sang softly; hymns in French\nand English; sweet and low, and soothing in their simple and sometimes\nwild melody. They soothed Daisy. After a time, wearied and exhausted by\nall her long day of trial, she did forget pain in slumber. The eyelids\nclosed, and Juanita's stealthy examination found that quiet soft\nbreathing was really proving her fast asleep. The singing ceased; and\nfor a while nothing was to be heard in the cottage but the low rush and\nrustle of the wind which had driven away the storm clouds, and the\npatter of a dislodged rain drop or two that were shaken from the leaves.\nDaisy's breathing was too soft to be heard, and Juanita almost held her\nown lest it should be too soon disturbed. But the pain of the hurt foot\nand ankle would not suffer a long sleep. Daisy waked up with a sigh.\n\n\"Are you there, Juanita?\"\n\n\"I am here.\"\n\n\"What o'clock is it?\"\n\nJuanita drew back the curtain of the window by Daisy's couch, that the\nmoonlight might fall in and shew the face of the little clock. It was\nmidnight.\n\n\"It won't be morning in a great while, will it?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Does my lady want morning?\"\n\n\"My foot hurts me dreadfully, Juanita--the pain shoots and jumps all up\nmy leg. Couldn't you do something to it?\"\n\n\"My dear love, it will be better by and by--there is no help now for it,\nunless the Lord sends sleep. I s'pose it must ache. Can't Miss Daisy\nremember who sends the pain?\"\n\nThe child answered her with a curious smile. It was not strange to the\nblack woman; she read it and knew it and had seen such before; to\nanybody that had not, how strange would have seemed the lovingness that\nspread over all Daisy's features and brightened on her brow as much as\non her lips. It was not patient submission; it was the light of joyful\naffection shining out over all Daisy's little pale face.\n\n\"Ay, it isn't hard with Jesus,\" said the black woman with a satisfied\nface. \"And the Lord is here now,--praise his name!\"\n\n\"Juanita--I have been very happy to-day,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Ay? how has that been, my love?\"\n\n\"Because I knew he was taking care of me. It seemed that Jesus was so\nnear me all the time. Even all that dreadful ride.\"\n\n\"The Lord is good!\" said the black woman with strong expression. \"But my\nlove must not talk.\"\n\nShe began to sing again.\n\n  \"O what shall I do, my Saviour to praise!\n   So faithful and true, so plenteous in grace.\n   So good to deliver, so strong to redeem\n   The weakest believer that hangs upon him.\"\n\n\"O that's good, Juanita!\" said Daisy. \"Hush!--Juanita, it is very late\nfor anybody to be out riding!\"\n\n\"Who is out riding, Miss Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't know--I hear a horse's feet. Don't you hear?--there!\"\n\n\"It's some young gentleman, maybe, going home, from a dinner-party.\"\n\n\"Don't draw the curtain, Juanita, please! I like it so, I can look out.\nThe moonlight is nice. Somebody is very late, going home from a dinner\nparty.\"\n\n\"They often be. Miss Daisy, the moonlight will hinder you sleeping, I am\nafraid.\"\n\n\"I can't sleep. It's so good to look out! Juanita--there's that horse's\nfeet, stopping just here.\"\n\nJuanita went to her door, and perceived that Daisy spoke truth. Somebody\ndown at her little wicket had dismounted and was fastening his horse to\nthe fence. Then a figure came up the walk in the moonlight.\n\n\"Juanita!\" cried Daisy with an accent of joy, though she could not see\nthe figure from where she lay,--\"it's papa!\"\n\n\"Is she asleep?\" said the voice of Mr. Randolph the next minute softly.\n\n\"No, sir. She knows it's you, sir. Will his honour walk in?\"\n\nMr. Randolph with a gentle footfall came in and stood by the side of the\ncouch.\n\n\"Daisy--my poor little Daisy!\"--he said.\n\n\"Papa!--\"\n\nThis one word was rich in expression; joy and love so filled it. Daisy\nadded nothing more. She put her arms round her father's neck as he\nstooped his lips to her face, held him fast and returned his kisses.\n\n\"Cannot you sleep?\" The question was very tenderly put.\n\n\"I did sleep, papa.\"\n\n\"I did not wake you?\"\n\n\"No, papa. I was awake, looking at the moonlight.\"\n\n\"Pain would not let you sleep, my poor darling?\"\n\nThe sympathy was a little too trying. Tears started to the child's eyes.\nShe said with a most gentle, loving accent, \"I don't mind, papa. It will\nbe better by and by. I am very happy.\"\n\nAn indignant question as to the happiness which had been so rudely\nshaken, was on Mr. Randolph's lips. He remembered Daisy must not be\nexcited; nevertheless he wondered, for he saw the child's eyes full, and\nknew that the brow was drawn with pain; and the poor little thin face\nwas as white as a sheet. What did she mean by talking about being happy?\n\n\"Daisy, I have brought you some oranges.\"\n\n\"Thank you, papa!--May I have one now?\"\n\nSilently and almost sternly Mr. Randolph stood and pared the orange with\na fruit knife--he had thought to bring that too--and fed Daisy with it,\nbit by bit. It was pleasant and novel to Daisy to have her father serve\nher so; generally others had done it when there had been occasion. Mr.\nRandolph did it nicely, while his thoughts worked.\n\n\"What are you going to do to-night, papa?\" she said when the orange was\nfinished and he stood looking at her.\n\n\"Stay here with you.\"\n\n\"But papa, how can you sleep?\"\n\n\"I can do without sleeping, if it is necessary. I will take a chair here\nin the doorway, and be near if you want anything.\"\n\n\"O shall not want anything, papa, except what Juanita can give me.\"\n\nHe stood still watching her. Daisy looked up at him with a loving face;\na wise little face it always was; it was gravely considerate now.\n\n\"Papa, I am afraid you will be uncomfortable.\"\n\n\"Can nobody bear that but you?\" said Mr. Randolph, stooping down to kiss\nher.\n\n\"I am very happy, papa,\" said the child placidly; while a slight tension\nof her forehead witnessed to the shooting pains with which the whole\nwounded limb seemed to be filled.\n\n\"If Mr. Randolph pleases--\" said the voice of Juanita,--\"the doctor\nrecommended quiet, sir.\"\n\nOff went Mr. Randolph at that, as if he knew it very well and had\nforgotten himself. He took a chair and set it in the open doorway, using\nthe door-post as a rest for his head; and then the cottage was silent.\nThe wind breathed more gently; the stars shone out; the air was soft\nafter the storm; the moonlight made a bright flicker of light and shade\nover all the outer world. Now and then a grasshopper chirruped, or a\nlittle bird murmured a few twittering notes at being disturbed in its\nsleep; and then came a soft sigh from Daisy.\n\nOn noiseless foot the black woman stole to the couch. Daisy was weeping;\nher tears were pouring out and making a great wet spot on her pillow.\n\n\"Is my love in pain?\" whispered the black woman.\n\n\"It's nothing--I can't help it,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Where is it--in the foot?\"\n\n\"It's all over, I think; in my head and everywhere. Hush, Juanita; never\nmind.\"\n\nMrs. Benoit, however, tried the soothing effect of a long gentle\nbrushing of Daisy's head. This lasted till Daisy said she could bear it\nno longer. She was restless.\n\n\"Will my love hear a hymn?\"\n\n\"It will wake papa.\"\n\nMrs. Benoit cared nothing for that. Her care was her poor little charge.\nShe began immediately one of the hymns that were always ready on her\ntongue, and which were wonderfully soothing to Daisy. Juanita was old,\nbut her voice was sweet yet and clear; and she sang with a deal of quiet\nspirit.\n\n  \"'A few more days or years at most,\n    My troubles will be o'er;\n  I hope to join the heavenly host\n    On Canaan's happy shore.\n  My raptured soul shall drink and feast\n    In love's unbounded sea;\n  The glorious hope of endless rest\n    Is ravishing to me.'\"\n\nMr. Randolph raised his head from leaning against the door-post, and\nturned it to listen; with a look of lowering impatience. The screen of\nthe hanging curtain was between him and the couch, and the look did\nnobody any harm.\n\n  \"'O come, my Saviour, come away,\n    And bear me to the sky!\n  Nor let thy chariot wheels delay--\n    Make haste and bring it nigh:\n  I long to see thy glorious face,\n    And in thy image shine;\n  To triumph in victorious grace,\n    And be forever thine.'\"\n\nMr. Randolph's chair here grated inharmoniously on the floor, as if he\nwere moving; but Juanita went on without heeding it.\n\n  \"'Then will I tune my harp of gold\n    To my eternal King.\n  Through ages that can ne'er be told\n    I'll make thy praises ring.\n  All hail, eternal Son of God,\n    Who died on Calvary!\n  Who bought me with his precious blood,\n    From endless misery.'\"\n\nMr. Randolph stood by Mrs. Benoit's chair.\n\n\"My good woman,\" he said in suppressed tones, \"this is a strange way to\nput a patient to sleep.\"\n\n\"As your honour sees!\" replied the black woman placidly. Mr. Randolph\nlooked. Daisy's eyes were closed; the knitted brow had smoothed itself\nout in slumber; the deep breath told how profound was the need that\nweakness and weariness had made. He stood still. The black woman's hand\nsoftly drew the curtain between Daisy's face and the moonlight, and then\nshe noiselessly withdrew herself almost out of sight, to a low seat in a\ncorner. So Mr. Randolph betook himself to his station in the doorway;\nand whether he slept or no, the hours of the night stole on quietly. The\nbreeze died down; the moon and the stars shone steadily over the lower\nworld; and Daisy slept, and her two watchers were still. By and by,\nanother light began to break in the eastern horizon, and the stars grew\npale. The morning had come.\n\nThe birds were twittering in the branches before Daisy awoke. At the\nfirst stir she made, her father and Mrs. Benoit were instantly at her\nside. Mr. Randolph bent over her and asked tenderly how she felt.\n\n\"I feel hot, papa.\"\n\n\"Everybody must do that,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"The breeze has died away\nand the morning is very close.\"\n\n\"Papa, have you been awake all night?\"\n\nHe stooped down, and kissed her.\n\n\"You must go home and get some breakfast and go to sleep,\" Daisy said,\nlooking at him lovingly with her languid eyes.\n\n\"Shall I bring you anything from home, Daisy?\" he said, kissing her\nagain.\n\nThe child looked a little wistfully, but presently said no; and Mr.\nRandolph left her to do as she had said. Mrs. Benoit was privately glad\nto have him out of the way. She brought water and bathed Daisy's face\nand hands, and gave her a delicate breakfast of orange; and contrived to\nbe a long while about it all, so as to rest and refresh her as much as\npossible. But when it was all done, Daisy was very hot and weary and in\nmuch pain. And the sun was only in the tops of the trees yet. The black\nwoman, stood considering her.\n\n\"It will be a hot day, Miss Daisy--and my little lady is suffering\nalready, when the dew is not dried off the grass. Can she say, 'Thank\nthe Lord?'\"\n\nDaisy first smiled at her; then the little pale face grew grave, the\neyelids fell, and the black woman saw tears gathering beneath them. She\nstood looking somewhat anxiously down at the child; till after a few\nminutes the eyelids were raised again and the eyes gave her a most meek\nand loving response, while Daisy said faintly, \"Yes, Juanita.\"\n\n\"Bless the Lord!\" said Juanita with all her heart. \"Then my love can\nbear it, the hot day and the pain and all. When his little child trust\nhim, Jesus not stay far off. And when he giveth quietness, then who can\nmake trouble?\"\n\n\"But I have a particular reason, Juanita. I am very glad of my hurt\nfoot; though it does ache.\"\n\n\"The aching will not be so bad by and by,\" said the woman, her kindly\nface all working with emotion.\n\nShe stood there by Daisy's couch and prayed. No bathing nor breakfast\ncould so soothe and refresh Daisy as that prayer. While she listened and\njoined in it, the feeling of yesterday came all back again; that\nwonderful feeling that the Lord Jesus loves even the little ones that\nlove him; that he will not let a hair of their heads be hurt; that he is\nnear, and keeps them, and is bringing them to himself by everything that\nhe lets happen to them. Greatly refreshed and comforted, Daisy lay quiet\nlooking out of the open window, while Juanita was busy about, making a\nfire and filling her kettle for breakfast. She had promised Daisy a cup\nof tea and a piece of toast; and Daisy was very fond of a cup of tea and\ndid not ordinarily get it; but Mrs. Benoit said it would be good for her\nnow. The fire was made in a little out-shed, back of the cottage where\nit would do nobody any harm, even in hot weather. Daisy was so quieted\nand comforted, though her leg was still aching, that she was able to\nlook out and take some pleasure in the sparkling morning light which\nglittered on the leaves of the trees and on the blades of grass; and to\nhearken to the birds which were singing in high feather all around the\ncottage. The robins especially were very busy whistling about in and\nunder the trees; and a kildeer quite near from time to time sung its\nsoft sweet song; so soft and tender, it seemed every time to say in\nDaisy's ears--\"What if I am sick and in pain and weary? Jesus sends\nit--and he knows--and he is my dear Saviour.\" It brought the tears into\nDaisy's eyes at length; the song of the kildeer came so close home into\nher heart.\n\nJuanita had gone to make the tea. While the kettle had been coming to a\nboil, she had put her little cottage into the nicest of order; and even\nfilled a glass with some roses and set it on the little table. For, as\nshe said to Daisy, they would have company enough that day, and must be\nin trim. She had gone now to make the tea, and Daisy lay contentedly\nlooking out of the window, when she heard the swift tread of horses'\nfeet again. Could her father be back from Melbourne already? Daisy could\nnot raise herself up to look. She heard the feet stop in the road before\nthe cottage; then listened for somebody's step coming up to it. She\nheard the step, but it was none of Mr. Randolph's; it was brisk and firm\nand measured. She guessed it was somebody's step whose feet had been\ntrained.\n\nJuanita came to open the door at the knock, and Daisy heard her saying\nsomething about the doctor's orders, and keeping quiet, and no\nexcitement. Daisy could not stand that.\n\n\"O Capt. Drummond--come in! come in!\" she cried. And in came the\nCaptain. He looked wonderfully sober at his poor little playfellow. But\nDaisy looked all smiles at him.\n\n\"Is your furlough over? Are you going, Capt. Drummond?\"\n\n\"I am off, Daisy.\"\n\n\"I am so glad you came to see me!\" she said, putting out her little hand\nto him. The Captain took it and held it and seemed almost unable to\nspeak.\n\n\"Daisy, I would have run the risk of being cashiered, rather than not\nhave done it.\"\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"Cashiered? Having my epaulettes pulled off.\"\n\n\"Do you care a great deal for your epaulettes?\" said Daisy.\n\nThe Captain laughed, with the water standing in his eyes. Yes,\nabsolutely, his bright sparkling eyes had drops in them.\n\n\"Daisy, I have brought you our land fish--that we had such trouble for.\"\n\n\"The trilobite! O did you?\" exclaimed Daisy as he placed it before her.\n\"I wanted to see it again, but I was afraid you wouldn't have time\nbefore you went.\" She looked at it eagerly.\n\n\"Keep it Daisy; and keep a little bit of friendship for me with it--will\nyou? in case we meet again some day.\"\n\n\"O Capt. Drummond--don't you want it?\"\n\n\"No; but I want you to remember the conditions.\"\n\n\"When will you come to Melbourne again?\"\n\n\"Can't say, Daisy; I am afraid, not till you will have got the kingdom\nof England quite out of all its difficulties. We were just going into\nthe battle of Hastings, you know; don't you recollect?\"\n\n\"How nice that was!\" said Daisy regretfully. \"I don't think I shall ever\nforget about the Saxon Heptarchy, and Egbert, and Alfred.\"\n\n\"How about forgetting _me_?\"\n\n\"You know I couldn't,\" said Daisy with a most genial smile. \"O Capt.\nDrummond!\"--she added, as a flash of sudden thought crossed her face.\n\n\"What now, Daisy?\"\n\nThe child looked at him with a most earnest, inquisitive wistful gaze.\nThe Captain had some difficulty to stand it.\n\n\"O Capt. Drummond,\" she repeated,--\"are you going to be ashamed of\nChrist?\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe young soldier was strangely enough confused by this simple question.\nHis embarrassment was even evident. He hesitated for a reply, and it did\nnot readily dome. When it came, it was an evasion.\n\n\"That is right, Daisy,\" he said; \"stand by your colours. He is a poor\nsoldier that carries them behind his back in the face of the enemy. But\nwhatever field you die in, I should like to be alongside of you.\"\n\nHe spoke gravely. And he asked no leave this time, but clasping Daisy's\nhand he bent down and kissed her forehead twice and earnestly; then he\ndid not say another word, but strode away. A little flush rose on\nDaisy's brow, for she was a very particular little lady as to who\ntouched her; however she listened attentively to the sound of the\nretreating hoofs which carried the Captain off along the road; and when\nJuanita at last came in with her little tray and a cup of tea, she found\nDaisy's face set in a very thoughtful mood and her eyes full of tears.\nThe face did not even brighten at her approach.\n\n\"Miss Daisy,\" said the black woman, \"I thought you wanted a cup of tea?\"\n\n\"So I do, Juanita. I want it very much.\"\n\nMrs. Benoit made remarks to herself upon the wise little face that met\nher with such a sober greeting. However she made none aloud; she\nsupported Daisy nicely with one arm and set the little tray before her.\nThe tea was excellent; the toast was in dainty, delicate, thin brown\nstrips. Daisy took it soberly.\n\n\"Does it seem good to my love?\"\n\n\"O yes, Juanita!\" said the child looking up gratefully; \"it is _very_\ngood; and you make the prettiest toast I ever saw.\"\n\nThe black woman smiled, and bade her eat it and not look at it.\n\n\"But I think it tastes better for looking pretty, Juanita.\"\n\n\"The Lord knows,\" said the woman; \"and he made the trees in the garden\nof Eden to be pleasant to the eyes, as well as good for food.\"\n\n\"I am glad he did,\" said Daisy. \"How pleasant the trees have been to my\neyes this morning. Then I was sick and could not do anything but look at\nthem; but they are pleasant to my eyes too when I am well. It is very\npainful to have one's friends go away, Juanita.\"\n\n\"Has my love lost friends?\" said Mrs. Benoit, wondering at this speech.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Daisy. \"Mr. Dinwiddie is gone; and now Capt. Drummond. I\nhave got hardly anybody left.\"\n\n\"Was Mr. Dinwiddie Miss Daisy's friend?\"\n\nSuch a bright, warm, glad flash of a smile as Juanita got in answer! It\nspoke for the friendship on one side.\n\n\"But he is gone,\" said Daisy. \"I wish I could see him again. He is gone,\nand I never shall!\"\n\n\"Now Miss Daisy, you will lie still and be quiet, my love, until\nsomebody else comes. The doctor says that's the way. Mr. Dinwiddie is\nabout his Master's work, wherever he is; and you want to do the same?\"\n\n\"How can I, Juanita, lying here? I cannot do anything.\"\n\n\"Does my love think the good Lord ever give his servants no work to do\nfor him?\"\n\n\"Why _here_, Juanita--I can only lie here and be still. What can I do?\"\n\n\"My love pray the dear Master to shew her; and now not talk just now.\"\n\nDaisy lay still. The next comer was the doctor. He came while the\nmorning was still early; made his examinations; and Daisy made hers. He\nwas a very fine-looking man. Thick locks of auburn hair, thrown back\nfrom his face; a noble and grave countenance; blue eye keen and steady;\nand a free and noble carriage; there was enough about Dr. Sandford to\nengage all Daisy's attention and interest. She gave him both, in her\nquiet way; while he looked not so much at her as at her condition and\nrequirements.\n\n\"It is going to be a hot day,\" he remarked to Juanita who attended upon\nhim. \"Keep her quiet. Do not let more than one other person be here at\nonce. Say I order it.\"\n\n\"Will his honour say it to Miss Daisy's father and mother?\"\n\n\"I shall not see them this morning. You are armed with my authority,\nJuanita. Nobody is to be here to talk and excite her; and only one at a\ntime beside you. Have you got fruit for her? Let her live on that as\nmuch as she likes; and keep the house empty.\"\n\n\"I will tell papa--\" said Daisy.\n\n\"How do you do?\" said the doctor. It was the first question he had\naddressed to her; and the first attention he had given her otherwise\nthan as a patient. Now the two looked at each other.\n\n\"I am better, a little, thank you,\" said the child. \"May I ask\nsomething?\"\n\n\"Ask it.\"\n\n\"Shall I be a long while here?\"\n\n\"You will be a week or two--till your foot gets strong again.\"\n\n\"Will a week or two make it strong?\"\n\nThe two pairs of eyes looked into each other. The thoughtful grey eyes\nof the child, and the impenetrable blue orbs of the man. There was\nmutual study; some mutual recognition.\n\n\"You must be a good child and try to bear it.\"\n\n\"Will you come and see me again?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Do you desire it?\"\n\n\"You would not come unless it was necessary,\" said Daisy; \"and if it is\nnecessary, I should like to have you.\"\n\nThe lips of the young man curled into a smile that was very pleasant,\nalbeit a little mocking in its character.\n\n\"I think it will be necessary, little one; but if I come to see you, you\nmust be under my orders.\"\n\n\"Well, I am,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Keep still, then; do not talk to anybody any more than is needful to\nrelieve your impatience.\"\n\nThe doctor went away, and Daisy lay still musing. The morning had gone\non a little further, when carriage wheels stopped at the gate.\n\n\"There's mamma--\" said Daisy.\n\nIt was very unconsciously on her part that the tone of these two words\nconveyed a whole volume of information to Juanita's keen wits. It was no\naccent of joy, like that which had announced her father last night;\nneither was it fear or dread; yet the indefinable expression of the two\nwords said that \"mamma\" had been a trouble in Daisy's life, and might be\nagain. Juanita went to have the door open; and the lady swept in. Mr.\nRandolph was behind her. She came to Daisy's side and the mother and\nchild looked at each other; Daisy with the tender, wistful eyes of last\nnight, Mrs. Randolph with a vexed air of dissatisfaction. Yet after\nlooking at her a moment she stooped down and kissed Daisy. The child's\neye went to her father then. Mrs. Randolph stood in his way; he came\nround to the head of the couch, behind Daisy, and bent over her.\n\n\"Papa, I can't see you there.\"\n\n\"You can feel, Daisy--\" said Mr. Randolph, putting his lips to her face.\n\"How do you do?\"\n\n\"This is a most maladroit arrangement of Capt. Drummond's!\" said the\nlady. \"What can we do to rectify it? A most stupid place for the child\nto be.\"\n\n\"She will have to bear the stupidity--and we too. Daisy, what would you\nlike to have to help it along?\"\n\n\"Papa, I am not stupid.\"\n\n\"You will be, my little daughter, I am afraid, before the weeks are\nover. Will you have June come to be with you?\"\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy slowly,--\"I think it would not be considerate.\"\n\n\"Are you comfortable?\" said Mr. Randolph smiling, though his looks\nexpressed much concern.\n\n\"No, papa.\"\n\n\"What is the matter?\"\n\n\"It is hot, papa; and my leg aches; not so much as it did last night\nsometimes; but it aches.\"\n\n\"It is a cool, fresh morning,\" said Mrs. Randolph. \"She is hot because\nshe is lying in this place.\"\n\n\"Not very cool, with the mercury at eighty-four before eight o'clock.\nYou are cool because you have been driving fast.\"\n\n\"Mr. Randolph, this is no proper place for the child to be. I am\nconvinced she might be moved with safety.\"\n\n\"I cannot risk the doctor's convictions against yours, Felicia. That\nquestion must be given up.\"\n\n\"He says I am under his orders, papa.\"\n\n\"Undeniable, Daisy. That is true doctrine. What orders does he give\nyou?\"\n\n\"To eat fruit, and keep quiet, papa. He says there must not be more than\none person here at a time, besides Juanita.\"\n\n\"I suppose he does not mean to forbid your mother,\" said Mrs. Randolph,\na good deal incensed. \"I will see about that. Here, my good woman--where\nare you?--Will you let your cottage to me for the time that this child\nis confined here--and remove somewhere else yourself, that I may put the\npeople here I want about her?\"\n\n\"Oh mamma!--\" said Daisy. But she stopped short; and Mrs. Randolph did\nnot attend to her. Mr. Randolph looked round to see Juanita's answer.\n\n\"My lady shall put here who she will please,\" the woman said, standing\nbefore her visiters with the most unruffled face and demeanour.\n\n\"And you will leave me the house at once?\"\n\n\"No, my lady. My lady shall have the house. Juanita will not be in the\nway.\"\n\n\"You do not seem to understand, my good woman, that I want to be here\nmyself and have my people here. I want the whole house.\"\n\n\"My lady shall have it--she is welcome--nobody shall find Juanita\ntrouble them,\" the black woman said with great sweetness.\n\n\"What will you do with yourself?\"\n\n\"A little place be enough for me, my lady. My spirit lives in a large\nhome.\"\n\nMrs. Randolph turned impatiently away. The manner of the woman was so\ninexpressibly calm and sweet, the dignity of her beautiful presence was\nso immovable, that the lady felt it in vain to waste words upon her.\nJuanita was a hopeless case.\n\n\"It is no use for me to be here then,\" she said. \"Mr. Randolph, you may\nmake your own arrangements.\"\n\nWhich Mr. Randolph did. He held a consultation with Juanita, as to what\nwas wanting and what she would do; a consultation with which he was\nsatisfied. Juanita was left in full charge, with authority to do for\nDaisy precisely according to Dr. Sandford's instructions, in all\nmatters. Mrs. Randolph meanwhile had a talk with her poor pale little\ndaughter, upon more or less the same subjects; and then the father and\nmother prepared to go home to breakfast.\n\n\"Shall I send you June?\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"No, mamma; I think not.\"\n\n\"Be patient a little while, Daisy,\" said her father kissing her; \"and\nyou will be able to have books and company too. Now for a little while\nyou must keep quiet.\"\n\n\"Juanita will keep me quiet, papa.\"\n\n\"I will come and see you again by and by.\"\n\n\"Papa, I want to tell you one thing. I want to speak to you and mamma\nbefore you go.\"\n\nMr. Randolph saw that the child's face flushed as if she were making\nsome effort. He bent down over her again.\n\n\"Is it something of interest, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa. To me.\"\n\n\"Don't talk of it now then. Lie still and do not talk at all. By and by\nyou will tell me what it is.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\n\nMr. and Mrs. Randolph departed.\n\n\"Daisy will be ruined forever!\" So said the lady as soon as she was in\nthe carriage.\n\n\"I hope not.\"\n\n\"You take it coolly, Mr. Randolph. That woman is exactly the sort to\ninfect Daisy; and you have arranged it so that she will have full\nchance.\"\n\n\"What is the precise danger you apprehend?\" said Mr. Randolph. \"I have\nnot heard it put into words.\"\n\n\"Daisy will be unmanageable. She is nearly that now.\"\n\n\"I never saw a more docile child in my life.\"\n\n\"That is because you take her part, Mr. Randolph. You will find it out\nin time, when it is too late; and it will be your own doing.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Daisy will be a confirmed piece of superstition. You will see. And you\nwill not find her docile then. If she once takes hold of anything, she\ndoes it with great obstinacy.\"\n\n\"But what is she taking hold of now? After all, you do not tell me,\"\nsaid Mr. Randolph carelessly.\n\n\"Of every sort of religious fanatical notion, you will find, Mr.\nRandolph! She will set herself against everything I want her to do,\nafter the fashion of those people, who think nothing is right but their\nown way. It will be a work of extreme difficulty, I foresee, to do\nanything with her after these weeks in this black woman's house. I\nwould have run any risk in removing her, rather than let it be so.\"\n\n\"Well, we shall see,\" said Mr. Randolph. \"I cannot quite take your view\nof the matter. I would rather keep the child--even for my own private\ncomfort--than lose her to prevent her from becoming religious.\"\n\nMrs. Randolph indignantly let this statement of opinion alone.\n\nLittle Daisy had a quiet day, meanwhile. The weather grew excessively\nhot; her broken ankle pained her; it was a day of suffering. Obliged to\nlie quite still; unable to change her position even a little, when the\ncouch became very hot under her; no air coming in at the open window but\nwhat seemed laden with the heats of a furnace, Daisy lay still and\nbreathed as well as she could. All day Juanita was busy about her;\nmoistening her lips with orange juice, bathing her hands, fanning her,\nand speaking and singing sweet words to her, as she could attend to\nthem. The child's eyes began to go to the fine black face that hovered\nnear her, with an expression of love and trust that was beautiful to\nbehold. It was a day that tried poor little Daisy's patience; for along\nwith all this heat, and weary lying still in one position, there were\nshoots and twitches of pain that seemed to come from the broken ankle\nand reach every part of her body; and she could not move about or turn\nover to ease them by some change.\n\nAt last the weary hours began to grow less oppressive. The sun got low\nin the sky; the air came with a little touch of freshness. How good it\nwas to see the sun lost behind the woods on the other side the road.\nJuanita kindled her fire again and put on the kettle; for Daisy was to\nhave another cup of tea, and wanted it very much. Then, before the\nkettle had boiled, came the doctor.\n\nIt was a pleasant variety. Dr. Sandford's face was a good one to see\ncome in anywhere, and in Daisy's case very refreshing. It was so noble a\nface; the features fine, manly, expressive; with a sedate gravity that\nspoke of a character above trifling. His calm, forceful eye was very\nimposing; the thick auburn locks of his hair, pushed back as they were\nfrom, his face, were beautiful to Daisy's imagination. Altogether he\nfastened her attention whenever he came within reach of it; she could\nnot read those grave lines of his face; she puzzled over them. Dr.\nSandford's appearance was in some way bewitching to her. Truly many\nladies found it so.\n\nHe examined now the state of her foot; gave rapid comprehensive glances\nat everything; told his orders to Mrs. Benoit. Finally, paused before\ngoing, and looked into the very wise little eyes that scanned him so\ncarefully.\n\n\"Is there anything you want, Daisy?\" he said with a physician's\nfamiliarity.\n\n\"No, sir,--I thank you.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Benoit takes good care of you?\"\n\n\"Very good.\"\n\nThe manner of Daisy's speech was like her looks; childlike enough, and\nyet with a deliberate utterance unlike a child.\n\n\"What do you think about, as you lie there all day?\" he said.\n\nThe question had been put with a somewhat careless curiosity; but at\nthat he saw a pink flush rise and spread itself all over Daisy's pale\nface; the grey eyes looked at him steadily, with no doubt of some\nthoughts behind them. Dr. Sandford listened for her answer. What _was_\nthe child thinking about? She spoke at last with that same sweet\ndeliberateness.\n\n\"I have been thinking, Dr. Sandford, about what Jesus did for me.\"\n\n\"What was that?\" said the doctor in considerable surprise.\n\n\"Because it was so hard for me to keep still to-day, I thought--you\nknow--how it must have been--\"\n\nThe flush deepened on the cheeks, and Daisy's eyes were swimming full of\ntears. Dr. Sandford looked, in much surprise; perhaps he was at some\npains to comprehend what all this meant.\n\n\"How it must have been when?\" said he, bending over Daisy's couch.\n\n\"You know, Dr. Sandford,\" she said tenderly. \"When he was on the\ncross--and couldn't move----\"\n\nDaisy gave way. She put her hands over her face. The doctor stood erect,\nlooking at her; glanced his grave eyes at Mrs. Benoit and at her again;\nthen made a step towards Juanita.\n\n\"No excitement is permitted,\" he said. \"You must keep her from it. Do\nyou understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Juanita said. But her face was all alight.\n\n\"Have you been reading some of those stories to her?\"\n\n\"I have not been reading to her at all to-day, if his honour pleases.\"\n\n\"Daisy,\" said Dr. Sandford, coming back to the couch, \"what put such\nthoughts into your head?\"\n\n\"I felt so badly to-day.\" She spoke with her usual collectedness again.\n\n\"Well, try and not mind it. You will feel better in a day or two. Do you\nknow when that happened that you were talking about?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"When was it?\"\n\n\"More than eighteen hundred years ago.\"\n\n\"Do you think it is worth your while to be troubled for what happened\neighteen hundred years ago?\"\n\n\"I think it is just the same as if it happened now,\" said Daisy, without\nmoving her eyes.\n\n\"Do you? By what power of reasoning?\"\n\n\"I don't think I know how to reason,\" said Daisy. \"It is feeling.\"\n\n\"How does feeling manage it?\"\n\nDaisy discerned the tone of the question, looked at her questioner, and\nanswered with tender seriousness:\n\n\"I know the Lord Jesus did that for me; and I know he is in heaven now.\"\n\nThe doctor kept silence a minute. \"Daisy,\" said he, \"you are under my\norders at present. You must mind me. You are to take a cup of tea, and a\npiece of toast, if you like; then you are to go to sleep and keep quiet,\nand not think of anything that happened more than an hour ago. Will\nyou?\"\n\n\"I will try to be quiet,\" said Daisy.\n\nShe and the doctor looked at each other in a dissatisfied manner, she\nwistfully, he disapprovingly, and then the doctor went out. Daisy's eyes\nfollowed, straining after him as long as they could; and when she could\nsee him no longer they filled with tears again. She was looking as\nintent and wistful as if she might have been thirty years old instead of\nnine or ten, when Juanita came to her side with the tea she had been\nmaking.\n\nThe tea and toast did Daisy good; and she was ready to enjoy a visit\nfrom, her father, who spent the evening with her. But he would not let\nher talk. The next day was hot again; however Daisy felt better. The\nheat was more bearable. It was a very quiet day.\n\nBoth she and Juanita obeyed orders and did not talk much; nevertheless\nJuanita sang hymns a great deal, and that was delightful to Daisy. She\nfound Juanita knew one hymn in particular that she loved exceedingly; it\nwas the one that had been sung in the little church the day she had\nheard Mr. Dinwiddie preach; it fell in with the course of Daisy's\nthoughts; and several times in the day she had Juanita sing it over.\nDaisy's eyes always filled when she heard it; nevertheless Juanita could\nnot resist her pleading wish.\n\n  \"O the Lamb! the loving Lamb!--\n   The Lamb on Calvary.\n   The Lamb that was slain, but lives again,\n   To intercede for me.\"\n\n\"I am so happy, Juanita,\" Daisy said after one of these times. \"I am so\nhappy!\"\n\n\"What makes it so, my love?\"\n\n\"O because that is true--because he lives up there to take care of me.\"\n\n\"Bless the Lord!\" said the black woman.\n\nTowards evening of that day, Juanita had left the room to make her fire\nand attend to some other things, when Daisy heard her own name hailed\nsoftly from the window. She turned her head, and there was Preston's\nbright face.\n\n\"My poor, poor little Daisy!\"\n\n\"How do you do, Preston?\" said Daisy, looking as clear as a moonbeam.\n\n\"There you are a prisoner!\"\n\n\"It is a very nice prison.\"\n\n\"Don't, my dear Daisy! I'll believe you in anything else, you know; but\nin this I am unable. Tied by your foot for six weeks, perhaps! I should\nlike to shoot Capt. Drummond.\"\n\n\"It was not Capt. Drummond's fault.\"\n\n\"Is it bad, Daisy?\"\n\n\"My foot? It has been pretty bad.\"\n\n\"Poor Daisy! And that was all because you would not sing.\"\n\n\"Because I would not sing, Preston!\"\n\n\"Yes, that is the cause of all the trouble that has been in the house.\nNow, Daisy, you'll give it up?\"\n\n\"Give what up?\"\n\n\"Give up your nonsense, and sing.\"\n\n\"_That_?\" said Daisy, and a slight flush came into the pale cheeks.\n\n\"Aunt Felicia wants you to sing it, and she will make you do it, when\nyou get well.\"\n\nDaisy made no answer.\n\n\"Don't you see, my dear Daisy, it is foolish not to do as other people\ndo?\"\n\n\"I don't see what my broken ankle has to do with what you are saying,\nPreston.\"\n\n\"Daisy, what will become of you all these six weeks? We cannot go a\nfishing, nor have any fun.\"\n\n\"You can.\"\n\n\"What will you do?\"\n\n\"I guess I can have books and read, by and by. I will ask Dr. Sandford.\"\n\n\"Suppose I bring some books, and read to you?\"\n\n\"O Preston! how nice.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll do it then. What shall I bring?\"\n\n\"I wish you could bring something that would tell about these things.\"\n\n\"These things? What is that?\"\n\n\"It is a trilobite. Capt. Drummond got it the other day. It was a fish\nonce, and now it is a stone; and I would like very much to know about\nit.\"\n\n\"Daisy, are you serious?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, Preston.\"\n\n\"My dear little Daisy, do _not_ you go and be a philosopher!\"\n\n\"Why, I can't; but why shouldn't I?\"\n\n\"Philosophers are not 'nice,' Daisy, when they are ladies,\" said\nPreston, shaking his head.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because ladies are not meant to be philosophers.\"\n\n\"But I want to know about trilobites,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I don't think you do. You would not find the study of fossils\ninteresting.\"\n\n\"I think I should--if you would help me, Preston.\"\n\n\"Well, we will see, Daisy. I will do anything for you, if you will do\none thing for me. O Daisy, do! Aunt Felicia has not given it up at\nall.\"\n\n\"Good bye, Preston,\" said Daisy. \"Now you must go, and not talk to me\nany more this time.\"\n\nPreston ran off. He was not allowed to come again for a day or two; and\nDaisy was not allowed to talk. She was kept very quiet, until it was\nfound that the broken bone was actually healing and in a fair way to get\nwell. The pains in it were no longer so trying; the very hot days had\ngiven place to a time of milder weather; and Daisy, under the care of\nthe old black woman, enjoyed her solitary imprisonment well enough.\nTwice a day always her father visited her; once a day, Mrs. Randolph.\nHer stay was never very long; Juanita's house was not a comfortable\nplace for her; but Mr. Randolph gave a large piece of his time and\nattention to his suffering little daughter, and was indeed the first one\nto execute Preston's plan of reading aloud for her amusement. A new and\ngreat delight to Daisy. She never remembered her father taking such\npains with her before. Then, when her father and mother were gone, and\nthe cottage was still, Juanita and Daisy had what the latter called\ntheir \"good time.\" Juanita read the Bible and sang hymns and prayed.\nThere was no time nor pleasure in all the day that Daisy liked so well.\n\nShe had gained strength and was in a good way to be well again. The\nfirst morning this was told her, Daisy said:\n\n\"Papa, may I speak to you now?\"\n\n\"About something important, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa, I think so.\"\n\n\"Go on. What is it?\"\n\nJuanita was standing near by. The child glanced at her, then at her\nfather.\n\n\"Papa,\" she said, speaking slowly and with some hesitation,--\"I want you\nto know--I want to tell you--about me, so that you may understand.\"\n\n\"Are you so difficult to understand, Daisy?\"\n\n\"No, papa; but I want you to know something. I want you to know that I\nam a Christian.\"\n\n\"Well, so are we all,\" said Mr. Randolph coolly.\n\n\"No, papa, but I don't mean that.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean, papa,--that I belong to the Lord Jesus, and must do what he\ntells me.\"\n\n\"What am I to understand by that, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Nothing, papa; only I thought you ought to know.\"\n\n\"Do you understand what you are saying yourself, my child?\"\n\n\"Yes, papa.\"\n\n\"What does it mean, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Only, papa, I want you to know that I belong to the Lord Jesus.\"\n\n\"Does that imply that you will not belong to me any more?\"\n\n\"O no, papa!\"\n\n\"Why do you tell it me, then?\"\n\n\"Papa, Jesus says he will be ashamed of those who are ashamed of him; I\nwill not be ashamed of him; so I want you to know what I am.\"\n\n\"But, Daisy, you and I must come to an understanding about this,\" said\nMr. Randolph, taking a chair. \"Does this declaration mean that you are\nintending to be something different from what I like to see you?\"\n\n\"I do not know, papa.\"\n\n\"You do not! Does it mean that you are proposing to set up a standard of\naction for yourself, independent of me?\"\n\n\"No, papa.\"\n\n\"What then, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Papa, I do not quite know what you mean by a _standard_.\"\n\n\"I will change the word. Do you mean that your purpose is to make,\nhenceforward, your own rules of life?\"\n\n\"No, papa; I do not mean that.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy, very deliberately, \"if I belong to my Saviour,--you\nknow,--I must follow his rules.\"\n\n\"Daisy, I shall not cease to require obedience to mine.\"\n\n\"No, papa,--but----\" said Daisy, colouring.\n\n\"But what?\"\n\n\"I don't know very well how to say what I want, papa; it is difficult.\"\n\n\"Try.\"\n\n\"Papa, you will not be displeased?\"\n\n\"That depends upon what you have to say. Daisy.\"\n\n\"Papa, I do not _mean_ to displease you,\" said the child, her eyes\nfilling with tears. \"But--suppose----\"\n\n\"Well,--suppose anything.\"\n\n\"Suppose _those_ rules should be different from your rules?\"\n\n\"I am to be the judge, Daisy. If you set up disobedience to me, on any\npretext, you know the consequences.\"\n\nDaisy's lip trembled; she put up her hands to her face and burst into\ntears. She could not bear that reminder. Her father took one of her\nhands down and kissed the little wet cheek.\n\n\"Where are you going to find these rules, Daisy,\" he said kindly, \"which\nyou are going to set up against mine?\"\n\n\"Papa, I do not set them up.\"\n\n\"Where do you get them?\"\n\n\"Only in the Bible, papa.\"\n\n\"You are a little child, Daisy; you are not quite old enough to be able\nto judge properly for yourself what the rules of that book are. While\nyou are little and ignorant, I am your judge, of that and everything\nelse; and your business is to obey me. Do you understand that?\"\n\n\"But, papa----\"\n\n\"Well--what?\"\n\n\"Papa, I am afraid you will be angry.\"\n\n\"I do not think I shall. You and I had better come to an understanding\nabout these matters. Say on, Daisy.\" \"I was going to say, papa--\"\n\nDaisy was afraid to tell what. Mr. Randolph again stooped and kissed\nher; kissed her two or three times.\n\n\"Papa, I do not _mean_ to make you angry,\" said the child with intense\neagerness,--\"but--suppose--papa, I mean,--are _you_ a servant of the\nLord Jesus?\"\n\nMr. Randolph drew back. \"I endeavour to do my duty, Daisy,\" he said\ncoldly. \"I do not know what you include in the terms you use.\"\n\n\"Papa, that is what I mean,\" said Daisy, with a very meek face. \"Papa,\nif I _am_, and you are _not_, then perhaps you would not think the\nthings that I think.\"\n\n\"If you are, and I am not, what?\"\n\n\"_That_, papa--which I wanted you to know I am. A servant of Jesus.\"\n\n\"Then, what?\"\n\n\"Then, papa, if I am, and you are not,--wouldn't you perhaps not think\nabout those rules as I must think of them?\"\n\n\"You mean that our thoughts would disagree?\"\n\n\"Papa--they might.\"\n\n\"What shall we do, then, Daisy?\"\n\nDaisy looked wistfully and somewhat sadly at him. There was more weight\nof thought under the little brow than he liked to see there. This would\nnot do; yet matters must be settled.\n\n\"Do you want to be a different little person from what you have been,\nDaisy, hitherto?\"\n\n\"I don't know, papa--I think so.\"\n\n\"How do you wish to be different?\"\n\n\"I can't tell, papa. I might have to be.\"\n\n\"I want you just as you are, Daisy.\"\n\nMr. Randolph stooped his head down again to the too thoughtful little\nface. Daisy clasped her arms around his neck and held him close. It was\nonly by her extraordinary self-command that she kept from tears; when he\nraised his head her eyes were perfectly dry. \"Will you be my good\nlittle Daisy--and let me do the thinking for you?\" said Mr. Randolph\ntenderly.\n\n\"Papa--I _can't_.\"\n\n\"I will not have you different from what I like you, Daisy.\"\n\n\"Then, papa, what shall I do?\"\n\n\"Obey me, and be satisfied with that.\"\n\n\"But, papa, I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ,\" said the child,\nlooking unutterably sober.\n\n\"I do not intend my commands shall conflict with any of higher\nauthority.\"\n\n\"Papa--suppose--they _might_?\"\n\n\"I must be judge. You are a little child; you must take the law from my\nmouth, until you are older.\"\n\n\"But, papa, suppose I _thought_ the Bible told me to do what you did not\nthink it said?\"\n\n\"I advise you to believe my judgment, Daisy, if you wish to keep the\npeace between us. I will not have anymore calling of it in question.\"\n\nDaisy struggled plainly, though she would not cry; her colour flushed,\nher lip quivered. She was entirely silent for a little while, and Mr.\nRandolph sat watching her. The struggle lasted some minutes; till she\nhad overcome it somewhat she would not speak; and it was sharp. Then the\nchild closed her eyes and her face grew calm. Mr. Randolph did not know\nwhat to think of her.\n\n\"Daisy----\"\n\n\"What, papa?\"\n\n\"I do not think we have settled this question yet.\"\n\n\"I do not think we have, papa.\"\n\n\"What is to be done? It will not answer, my little daughter, for you to\nset up your will against mine.\"\n\n\"Papa, it is not my will.\"\n\n\"What do you call it, then?\"\n\n\"Papa, it is not my will at all. It is the will of God.\"\n\n\"Take care, Daisy,\" said her father. \"You are not to say that. My will\nwill never oppose itself to that authority you speak of.\"\n\n\"Papa, I only want to obey that.\"\n\n\"But remember, I must be the judge.\"\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy, eagerly, \"won't this do? If I think something is in\nthe Bible, mayn't I bring it to you to see?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And if you think it _is_ there, then will you let me do it?\"\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\n\"Do what the Bible says, papa.\"\n\n\"I think I may promise that, Daisy,\" said Mr. Randolph; though\ndubiously, as not quite certain what he was promising; \"so long as I am\nthe judge.\"\n\n\"Then that will do, papa! That is nice.\"\n\nDaisy's countenance expressed such utter content at this arrangement,\nthat Mr. Randolph looked grave.\n\n\"Now you have talked and excited yourself enough for to-day,\" he said.\n\"You must be quiet.\"\n\n\"Mayn't I tell mamma when she comes?\"\n\n\"What, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I mean what I have told you, papa.\"\n\n\"No. Wait till to-morrow. Why do you wish to tell her, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Papa, I think I ought to tell her. I want her to know.\"\n\n\"You have very uncompromising notions of duty. But this duty can wait\ntill another day.\"\n\nDaisy had to wait more than a day for her opportunity; her mother's next\nvisits were too bustling and unsatisfactory, as well as too short, to\npromise her any good chance of being heard. At last came a propitious\nmorning. It was more moderate weather; Daisy herself was doing very well\nand suffering little pain; and Mrs. Randolph looked in good humour and\nhad sat down with her tetting-work as if she meant to make her daughter\nsomething of a visit. Mr. Randolph was lounging at the head of the\ncouch, out of Daisy's sight.\n\n\"Mamma,\" began the child, \"there is something I wish to say to you.\"\n\n\"You have a favourable opportunity, Daisy. I can hear.\" Yet Daisy looked\na minute at the white hand that was flying the bobbin about. That white\nhand.\n\n\"It isn't much, mamma. It is only--that I wish you to know--that I am a\nChristian.\"\n\n\"That you are _what_?\" said Mrs. Randolph coldly.\n\n\"A Christian, mamma.\"\n\n\"Pray what does that mean?\"\n\n\"That I am a servant of Christ, mamma.\"\n\n\"When did you find it out, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Some time ago, mamma. Some time--a little while--before my birthday.\"\n\n\"You did! What do you think _me_?\"\n\nDaisy kept silence.\n\n\"Well! why don't you speak? Answer me.\"\n\n\"Mamma, I don't know how to answer you,\" said Daisy, flushing for an\ninstant. Her mother's eyes took note of her.\n\n\"I shall not ask you a third time, Daisy.\"\n\n\"Mamma,\" said the child low,--\"I do not think you are what I mean by a\nChristian.\"\n\n\"You do not. I supposed that. Now you will go on and tell me what you\nmean by 'a Christian.'\"\n\n\"It means,\" said Daisy, her eyes filling with tears, \"it means a person\nwho loves the Lord Jesus and obeys him.\"\n\n\"I hope you are gratified, Mr. Randolph,\" said the lady, \"with this\nspecimen of the new Christianity. Dutiful and respectful are happily\nunited; along with a pleasant mixture of modesty. What do you expect me\nto do, Daisy, with this announcement of yours?\"\n\n\"Nothing, mamma,\" said Daisy faintly.\n\n\"I suppose you think that my Christianity must accommodate itself to\nyours? Did you expect that?\" \"No, mamma.\"\n\n\"It would be very foolish of you; for the fact will be the other way.\nYours must accommodate itself to mine.\"\n\n\"I only wanted you to know what mine is, mamma.\"\n\n\"Yours is what mine is, Daisy. What I think right for you, that you are\nto do. I will not hear a whimper from you again about what you are--do\nyou understand? Not again. I have listened to you this time, but this is\nthe last. If I hear another syllable like this, about what you are or\nyour Christianity, I shall know how to chastise it out of you. You are\nnothing at all, but my Daisy; you are a Jewess, if I choose to have it\nso.\"\n\nMr. Randolph made an uneasy movement; but the lady's white fingers flew\nin and out of her tetting-work without regarding him.\n\n\"What do you want to do, that you are asking my permission in this\nroundabout way? What do you want to do, that you think will not please\nme?\"\n\nDaisy at first hesitated; then Mr. Randolph was surprised to hear her\nsay boldly--\n\n\"I am afraid, a great many things, mamma.\"\n\n\"Well, you know now what to expect. Mr. Randolph,\" said the lady letting\nfall her tetting-work, \"if you please, I will go home. The sun will only\nbe getting hotter, if I stay.\"\n\nMr. Randolph stood behind Daisy, bending down and holding her face in\nhis two hands.\n\n\"What would you like me to send you from home, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Nothing, papa.\"\n\n\"Would you like to have Preston come and see you?\"\n\n\"If he likes to come, papa.\"\n\n\"He has been only waiting for my permission, and if you say so, I will\ngive him yours.\"\n\n\"He may come. I should like to see him very much.\"\n\n\"You may have books too, now, Daisy. Do you not want some books?\"\n\n\"I should like 'Sandford and Merton,' papa; and when Preston comes I'll\ntell him what else I want.\"\n\nMr. Randolph stood still, smoothing down the hair on each side of the\nlittle round head, while Mrs. Randolph was adjusting herself for her\ndrive.\n\n\"Are you ready, Mr. Randolph?\"\n\n\"Cannot say that I am,\" said the gentleman, stooping to kiss Daisy's\nforehead,--\"but I will go with you. One thing I should like understood.\nFor reasons which are sufficient with me, Daisy is to consider herself\nprohibited from making any music on Sundays henceforward, except she\nchooses to do it in church. I mention it, lest you should ask her to do\nwhat I have forbidden, and so make confusion.\"\n\nMrs. Randolph gave no sort of answer to this speech, and walked off to\nthe door. Daisy, whose eyes had brightened with joy, clasped her arms\naround her father's neck when he stooped again and whispered with an\nenergetic pressure,\n\n\"Thank you, papa!\"\n\nMr. Randolph only kissed her, and went off after his wife. The drive\nhome was remarkably silent.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\nIt happened that day that Juanita had business on hand which kept her a\ngood deal of the morning in the out-shed which formed part of her\npremises. She came in every now and then to see how Daisy was doing; yet\nthe morning was on the whole spent by Daisy alone; and when Juanita at\nlast came in to stay, she fancied the child was looking pale and worn\nmore than usual.\n\n\"My love do not feel well?\"\n\n\"Yes I do, Juanita--I am only tired. Have you done washing?\"\n\n\"It is all done. I am ready for whatever my love pleases.\"\n\n\"Isn't washing very disagreeable work, Juanita?\"\n\n\"I do not think what it be, while it is mine,\" the woman said\ncontentedly. \"All is good work that I can do for the Lord.\"\n\n\"But _that_ work, Juanita? How can you do that work so?\"\n\n\"When the Lord gives work, he give it to be done for him. Bless the\nLord!\"\n\n\"I do not understand, though, Juanita. Please tell me. How can you?\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy, I don't know. I can do it with pleasure, because it is my\nLord's command. I can do it with thanksgiving, because he has given me\nthe strength and the power. And I can do it the best I can, so as nobody\nshall find fault in his servant. And then, Miss Daisy, I can do it to\nget money to send his blessed word to them that sit in darkness--where I\ncome from. And I can do it with prayer, asking my Lord to make my heart\nclean for his glory; like as I make soiled things white again. And I do\nit with joy, because I know the Lord hear my prayer.\"\n\n\"I think you are very happy, Juanita,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"When the Lord leads to living fountains of waters, then no more\nthirsting,\"--said the black woman expressively.\n\n\"Then, Juanita, I suppose--if I get tired lying here,--I can do patience\nwork?\"\n\n\"Jesus will have his people do a great deal of that work,\" said Mrs.\nBenoit tenderly. \"And it is work that pleases him, Miss Daisy. My love\nis very weary?\"\n\n\"I suppose, Juanita, if I was really patient, I shouldn't be. Should I?\nI think I am impatient.\"\n\n\"My love knows who carries the lambs in his bosom.\"\n\nDaisy's tired face smoothed itself out at this. She turned her eyes to\nthe window with a placid look of rest in them.\n\n\"Jesus knows where the trouble is,\" said the black woman. \"He knows all.\nAnd he can help too. Now I am going to get something to do Miss Daisy\ngood.\"\n\nBefore this could be done, there came a heavy clumping step up to the\nhouse and a knock at the door; and then a person entered whom Juanita\ndid not know. A hard-featured woman, in an old-fashioned black straw\nbonnet and faded old shawl drawn tight round her. She came directly\nforward to Daisy's couch.\n\n\"Well I declare if it ain't true! Tied by the heels, ain't ye?\"--was her\nsalutation. Juanita looked, and saw that Daisy recognized the visiter;\nfor she smiled at her, half pleasure, half assent to what she said.\n\n\"I heerd of it--that is, I heerd you'd gone up to the mountain and broke\nsomething; I couldn't find out what 'twas; and then Hephzibah she said\nshe would go down to Melbourne Sunday. I said to her, says I,\n'Hephzibah, I wouldn't go all that ways, child, for to do nothing;\n'tain't likely but that some part of the story's true, if you and me\ncan't find out which;' but Hephzibah she took her own head and went; and\ndon't you think, she came back a cryin'?\"\n\n\"What was that for?\" said Daisy, looking very much interested.\n\n\"Why she couldn't find you, I guess; and she thought you was killed. But\nyou ain't, be you?\"\n\n\"Only my foot and ankle hurt,\" said Daisy smiling; \"and I am doing very\nwell now.\"\n\n\"And was you broke anywheres?\"\n\n\"My ankle was broken.\"\n\n\"I declare! And you couldn't be took home?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"So the folks said; only they said that young soldier had killed you. I\nhope he got hurted himself?\"\n\n\"Why Mrs. Harbonner, _he_ did not do it. It was an accident. It wasn't\nanybody's fault.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't ha' happened if _I_ had been there, I can tell you!\" said\nHephzibah's mother. \"I don't think much of a man if he ain't up to\ntaking care of a woman;--and a child above all. Now how long are you\ngoin' to be in this fix?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I suppose I shall have to lie still for four or five\nweeks more, before my foot is well.\"\n\n\"It's tiresome, I guess, ain't it?\"\n\n\"Yes--sometimes.\"\n\n\"Well I used to think, if folks was good, things wouldn't happen to 'em.\nThat's what I thought. That was my study of divinity. And when\neverything on earth happened to me, I just concluded it was because I\nwarn't a bit too good to deserve it. Now I'm beat--to see you lie there.\nI don't see what is the use of being good, if it don't get none.\"\n\n\"O Mrs. Harbonner!\" said Daisy--\"I am glad my foot was broken.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm beat!\" was all Mrs. Harbonner could say. \"You air, be you?\"\n\n\"It hasn't done me any harm at all; and it has done me a great deal of\ngood.\"\n\nMrs. Harbonner stood staring at Daisy.\n\n\"The promise is sure,\" said Mrs. Benoit. \"All things shall work together\nfor good to them that love God!\"\n\nThe other woman wheeled about and looked at her for an instant with a\nsharp keen eye of note-taking; then she returned to Daisy.\n\n\"Well I suppose I'll tell Hephzibah she won't see you again till\nsummer's over; so she may as well give over thinking about it.\"\n\n\"Do you think Hephzibah wants to learn, Mrs. Harbonner?\"\n\n\"Well, I guess she does.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't she come here and get her lessons? Couldn't she come to see me\nevery day while I am here?\"\n\n\"I 'spose she'd jump out of her skin to do it,\" said Mrs. Harbonner.\n\"Hephzibah's dreadful sot on seeing you.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Benoit,\" said Daisy, \"may I have this little girl come to see me\nevery day, while I am here?\"\n\n\"Miss Daisy shall have all, who she will,\" was the answer; and it was\narranged so; and Mrs. Harbonner took her departure. Lingering a minute\nat the door, whither Juanita attended her, she made one or two enquiries\nand remarks about Daisy, answered civilly and briefly by Mrs. Benoit.\n\n\"Poor little toad!\" said Mrs. Harbonner, drawing her shawl tight round\nher for the last time. \"But ain't she little _queer_?\"\n\nThese words were spoken in a low murmur, which just served to draw\nDaisy's attention. Out of sight behind the moreen curtain, Mrs.\nHarbonner forgot she was not beyond hearing; and Daisy's ears were\ngood. She noticed that Juanita made no answer at all to this question,\nand presently shut the door.\n\nThe business of giving Daisy some fruit was the next thing attended to;\nin the course of eating which Daisy marvelled a little to herself what\npossible likeness to a _toad_ Mrs. Harbonner could have discovered in\nher. The comparison did not seem flattering; also she pondered somewhat\nwhy it could be that anybody found her queer. She said nothing about it;\nthough she gave Mrs. Benoit a little account of Hephzibah and the reason\nof the proposed series of visits. In the midst of this came a cheery\n\"Daisy\"--at the other side of her; and turning her head, there was\nPreston's face at the window.\n\n\"O Preston!\"--Daisy handed to Mrs. Benoit her unfinished saucer of\nstrawberries--\"I am so glad! I have been waiting for you. Have you\nbrought my books?\"\n\n\"Where do you think I have been, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Shooting!--Have you?\"\n\nDaisy's eye caught the barrel of a fowling-piece shewing its end up at\nthe window. Preston without replying lifted up his game bag and let her\nsee the bright feathers of little birds which partly filled it.\n\n\"You have!--Shooting!\"--Daisy repeated, in a tone between disapprobation\nand dismay. \"It isn't September!\"\n\n\"Capital sport, Daisy,\" said Preston, letting the bag fall.\n\n\"I think it is very poor sport,\" said Daisy. \"I wish they were all alive\nand flying again.\"\n\n\"So do I--if I might shoot them again.\"\n\n\"It's cruel, Preston!\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Daisy. Don't you be too tender. Birds were made to kill. What\nare they good for?\"\n\nWith a wit that served her instead of experience, Daisy was silent,\nlooking with unspoken abhorrence at the wicked muzzle of the\nfowling-piece.\n\n\"Did you bring me 'Sandford and Merton,' Preston?\" she said presently.\n\n\"'Sandford and Merton'! My dear Daisy, I have been going all over the\nworld, you know--this part of it--and I was too far from Melbourne to go\nround that way for your book; if I had, it would have been too late to\nget here. You see the sun's pretty well down.\"\n\nDaisy said no more; but it was out of her power not to look\ndisappointed. She had so counted upon her book; and she was so weary of\nlying still and doing nothing. She wanted very much to read about the\nhouse that Harry and Tommy built; it would have been a great\nrefreshment.\n\n\"Cheer up, Daisy,\" said Preston; \"I'll bring you books to-morrow--and\nread to you too, if you like it. What shall I bring?\"\n\n\"O Preston, I want to know about trilobites!\"\n\n\"Daisy, you might as well want to know about the centre of the earth!\nThat's where they belong.\"\n\n\"I should like to know about the centre of the earth,\" said Daisy. \"Is\nthere anything there?\"\n\n\"Anything at the centre of the earth? I suppose so.\"\n\n\"But I mean, anything _but_ earth,\" said Daisy.\n\nPreston burst out laughing. \"O Daisy, Daisy!--Hadn't you better learn\nabout what is on the outside of the earth, before we dig down so deep\ninto it?\"\n\n\"Well, Preston, my trilobite was on the outside.\"\n\n\"Daisy, it wouldn't interest you,\" said Preston seriously; \"you would\nhave to go deep into something else besides the earth--so deep that you\nwould get tired. Let the trilobite alone, and let's have Grimm's Tales\nto-morrow--shall we? or what will you have?\"\n\nDaisy was patiently silent a minute; and then in came Dr. Sandford. In\nhis presence Preston was mute; attending to the doctor's manipulations\nas gravely as the doctor himself performed them. In the midst of the\ngeneral stillness, Dr. Sandford asked,\n\n\"Who was speaking about trilobites as I came up?\"\n\n\"Preston was speaking,\" said Daisy, as nobody else seemed ready to\nanswer.\n\n\"What about them?\"\n\n\"He thinks they would not interest me,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"What do you know about trilobites?\" said Dr. Sandford, now raising his\nblue eyes for a good look into the child's face. He saw it looked weary.\n\n\"I have got a beautiful one. Juanita, will you bring it here, please?\"\n\nThe doctor took it up and handled it with an eye that said, Daisy knew,\nthat it was a fine specimen. The way he handled it gratified her.\n\n\"So this is one of your playthings, is it, Daisy?\"\n\n\"No, sir; it is not a plaything, but I like to look at it.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It is so wonderful, and beautiful, I think.\"\n\n\"But do tell Daisy, will you, doctor,\" said Preston, \"that it is a\nsubject she cannot understand yet. She wants me to bring her books about\ntrilobites.\"\n\n\"Time hangs heavy, Daisy?\" said the doctor.\n\n\"No, sir--only when I have nothing to do.\"\n\n\"What have you done to-day?\"\n\n\"Nothing, sir; except talking to papa and mamma,--and some business\nabout a little girl.\"\n\nThe sedateness of this announcement was inexpressible, coming as it did\nafter a little thoughtful pause. Preston burst out laughing. Dr.\nSandford did not so far forget himself. He only gave Daisy a rapid look\nof his grave blue eyes.\n\n\"It would be a charity to give you more employment than that,\" he said.\n\"You like wonderful things, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Very much, when I understand about them.\"\n\n\"I will agree to tell you anything you please--that I know--about any\nwonderful things you can see to-morrow, looking from your window.\"\n\nThe Doctor and Preston went off together, and left Daisy, though without\nbooks, in a high state of excitement and gratification. The rest of the\nevening her little head was busy by turns with fancying the observations\nof the next day, and wondering what she could possibly find from her\nwindow to talk to the doctor about. A very unpromising window Daisy\nconsidered it. Nothing was to be seen beside trees and a little strip of\nroad; few people passed by that way; and if there had, what wonder could\nthere have been in that. Daisy was half afraid she should find nothing\nto talk to the doctor about; and that would be a mortification.\n\nDaisy and Juanita were both apt to be awake pretty early. Lying there on\nher back all day, without power to run about and get tired, Daisy's\nsleep was light; and her eyes were generally open before the sun got\nhigh enough to look at them. Juanita was always up and dressed earlier\neven than that; how much earlier Daisy had no means of knowing; but she\nwas sure to hear the murmur of her friend's voice at her prayers, either\nin the other room or outside of the house. And Juanita did not come in\nto see Daisy till she had been awake a good while, and had had leisure\nto think over a great many things. Daisy found that was a good time for\nher own prayers; there was nothing to disturb her, and nothing to be\nheard at all, except that soft sound of Juanita's voice and the clear\ntrills and quavers of the little birds' voices in the trees. There was\nno disturbance in any of those sounds; nothing but joy and gladness and\nthe voice of melody from them all.\n\nBy and by, when the light began to kindle in the tops of the trees, and\nDaisy was sure to be watching it and trying to get sight of some of the\nbird singers which were so merry up there, she would hear another sound\nby her bedside, or feel a soft touch; and there would be Juanita, as\nbright as the day, in her way of looking bright, bending over to see\nand find out how Daisy was. Then, having satisfied herself, Juanita\nwould go about the business of the morning. First her fire was made, and\nthe kettle put on for breakfast. Daisy used to beg her to leave the door\nopen, so that though she could not follow her with her eyes and see, she\ncould yet hear what Juanita was doing. She used to listen to hear the\nkindling put in the stove, and the wood; she knew the sound of it; then\nwhen the match was lit and applied she liked the rushing sound of the\nblaze and kindling fire; it gave pleasant token that the kettle would be\nboiled by and by. But first she listened to Juanita's feet brushing\nthrough the grass to get to the well; and Daisy listened so hard she\ncould almost tell after a while whether the grass was dry or whether it\nwas heavy with dew. Juanita always carried the kettle to the well; and\nwhen she came back Daisy could hear the iron clink of the stove as the\nkettle was put on. Presently Juanita came in then from her kitchen, and\nbegan the work of putting the house in order. How nicely she did it!\nlike the perfection of a nurse, which she was. No dust, no noise, no\nbustle; still as a mouse, but watchful as a cat, the alert old woman\nwent round the room and made all tidy and all clean and fresh. Very\nlikely Juanita would change the flowers in a little vase which stood on\nthe mantelpiece or the table, before she felt that everything was as it\nought to be.\n\nWhen all that was done, her next attention was to Daisy herself; and\nDaisy never in her life had nicer tending than now. If Juanita was a\nnurse, she was a dressing-maid too, of first-rate qualifications. It was\na real pleasure to have her ministering about the couch; and for that\nmatter, the whole work of the morning, as Juanita managed it, was a\nregular and unfailing piece of amusement to Daisy. And in the midst of\nit, every look at the black woman's noble, sweet face, warmed Daisy's\nheart with something better than amusement. Daisy grew to love her very\nmuch.\n\nThis morning all these affairs had been gone through as usual; and\nleaving Daisy in a happy, refreshed state, Mrs. Benoit went off to\nprepare her breakfast. Like everything else, that was beautifully done.\nBy and by, in she came with a tray and white napkin, white as napkin\ncould be, and fine damask too. For Juanita had treasures of various\nsorts, besides old moreen curtains. On this tray for instance, there was\nnot only a fine napkin of damask; there was a delicate cup and saucer of\nfine china, which Daisy thought very beautiful. It was as thin and fine\nas any cup at Melbourne House, and had a dainty vine of leaves and\nflowers running round it, in a light red brown colour. The plate was not\nto match; it was a common little white plate; but that did not matter.\nThe tea was in the little brown cup, and Daisy's lips closed upon it\nwith entire satisfaction. Juanita had some excellent tea too; and if she\nhad not, there was a sufficient supply sent from Melbourne; as well as\nof everything else. So to-day there was not only the brown toast in\nstrips, which Daisy fancied; but there were great red Antwerp\nraspberries for her; and that made, Daisy thought, the very best\nbreakfast that could be eaten. She was very bright this morning.\n\n\"Juanita,\" she said, \"I have found something for Dr Sandford already.\"\n\n\"What does Miss Daisy mean?\"\n\n\"Don't you know? Didn't you hear him yesterday? He gave me something to\ndo. He said he would tell me about anything wonderful I could see in the\ncourse of the day; and I have found something already.\"\n\n\"'Seems to me as all the Lord has made is wonderful,\" said the black\nwoman. \"Does Miss Daisy think Dr. Sandford can tell her all about it?\"\n\n\"Why I suppose he knows a great deal, Juanita.\"\n\n\"If he knowed one thing more,\"--said the black woman. \"Here he is, Miss\nDaisy. He's early.\"\n\nCertainly he was; but Dr. Sandford had a long ride to take that morning,\nand could only see Daisy then on his way. In silence he attended to her,\nand with no delay; smiled at her; put the tips of his fingers to her\nraspberry dish and took out one for his own lips; then went quick away.\nDaisy smiled curiously. She was very much amused at him. She did not ask\nJuanita what she meant by the \"one thing more.\" Daisy knew quite well;\nor thought she did.\n\nAll that day she was in an amused state, watching to see wonderful\nthings. Her father's and mother's visits came as usual. Preston came and\nbrought her some books. Hephzibah came too and had a bit of a lesson.\nBut Hephzibah's wits were like her hair, straying all manner of ways. It\nwas very difficult to make her understand the difference between a, b,\nab,--and b, a, ba; and that was discouraging. Daisy toiled with her till\nshe was tired; and then was glad to lie still and rest without even\nthinking of wonderful things, till Juanita brought her her dinner.\n\nAs the doctor had been early, so he was late to-day. It was near sunset\nwhen he came, and Daisy was a little disappointed, fancying that he was\ntired. He said nothing at first; attended to Daisy's foot in the\nprofoundest gravity; but in the midst of it, without looking up, he\nasked,\n\n\"What wonderful things have you seen to-day?\"\n\n\"I am afraid you are tired, Dr. Sandford,\" said Daisy very gently.\n\n\"What then?\"\n\n\"Then it might tire you more to talk to me.\"\n\n\"You have seen something wonderful, have you?\" said the doctor glancing\nat her.\n\n\"Two or three things, sir.\"\n\n\"One at a time,\" said the doctor. \"I _am_ tired. I have ridden nearly\nseventy miles to-day, one way and another. Have you got a cup of milk\nfor me, Mrs. Benoit?\"\n\nDaisy eagerly beckoned Juanita and whispered to her, and the result was\nthat with the cup of milk came a plate of the magnificent raspberries.\nThe doctor opened his grave eyes at Daisy, and stood at the foot of her\ncouch picking up raspberries with his finger and thumb, as he had taken\nthat one in the morning.\n\n\"Now what are the wonderful things?\" said he.\n\n\"You are too tired to-night, Dr. Sandford.\"\n\n\"Let us have number one. Promises must be kept, Daisy. Business is\nbusiness. Have you got such hard work for me? What was the first thing?\"\n\n\"The first wonderful thing that I saw--or at least that I thought of--\"\nsaid Daisy, \"was the sun.\"\n\nThe doctor eat half a dozen raspberries without speaking, giving an odd\nlittle smile first in one corner of his mouth and then in the other.\n\n\"Do you expect me to tell you about _that_?\" said he.\n\n\"You said business was business,\" Daisy replied with equal gravity to\nhis own.\n\n\"I am glad the idea of the universe did not occur to you,\" said the\ndoctor. \"That might have been rather inconvenient for one evening's\nhandling. What would you like me to tell you about the sun?\"\n\n\"I do not know anything at all about it,\" said Daisy. \"I would like to\nknow everything you can tell me.\"\n\n\"The thought that first comes to me,\" said the doctor, \"is, that it\nripened these raspberries.\"\n\n\"I know _that_,\" said Daisy. \"But I want to know what it _is_.\"\n\n\"The sun! Well,\" said the doctor, \"it is a dark, round thing, something\nlike this earth, only considerably bigger.\"\n\n\"_Dark!_\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Certainly. I have no reason to believe it anything else.\"\n\n\"But you are laughing at me, Dr. Sandford,\" said Daisy, feeling very\nmuch disappointed and a little aggrieved.\n\n\"Am I? No, Daisy--if you had ridden seventy miles to-day, you might be\ntempted, but you would not feel like laughing. Business is business, I\nmust remind you again.\"\n\n\"But you do not _mean_ that the sun is dark?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"I mean precisely what I say, I assure you.\"\n\n\"But it is so bright we cannot look at it,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Something is so bright you cannot look at it. The something is not the\nbody of the sun.\"\n\n\"Then it is the light that comes from it.\"\n\n\"No light comes from it, that I know. I told you, the sun is a dark\nbody.\"\n\n\"Not laughing?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dr. Sandford, though he did laugh now;--\"the sun, you see, is\na more wonderful thing than you imagined.\"\n\n\"But sir, may I ask any question I have a mind to ask?\"\n\n\"Certainly! All in the course of business.\"\n\n\"How do you know that it is dark, sir?\"\n\n\"Perfectly fair. Suppose that Mrs. Benoit stood behind your curtain\nthere, and that you had never seen her; how could you know that she has\na dark skin?\"\n\n\"Why I could not.\"\n\n\"Yes, you could--if there were rents in the curtain.\"\n\n\"But what are you talking of, sir?\"\n\n\"Only telling you, in answer to your question, how I know the sun to be\na dark body.\"\n\n\"But there is no curtain over the sun.\"\n\n\"That proves you are no philosopher, Daisy. If you were a philosopher,\nyou would not be so certain of anything. There is a curtain over the\nsun; and there are rents or holes in the curtain sometimes,--so large\nthat we can see the dark body of the sun through them.\"\n\n\"What is the curtain? Is _that_ the light?\"\n\n\"Now you are coming pretty near it, Daisy,\" said the doctor. \"The\ncurtain, as I call it, is not light, but it is what the light comes\nfrom.\"\n\n\"Then what _is_ it, Dr. Sandford?\"\n\n\"That has puzzled people wiser than you and I, Daisy. However, I think I\nmay venture to say, that it is something like an ocean of flame,\nsurrounding the dark body of the sun.\"\n\n\"And there are holes in it?\"\n\n\"Sometimes.\"\n\n\"But they must be very large holes to be seen from this distance?\"\n\n\"Very,\" said the doctor. \"A great many times bigger than our whole\nearth.\"\n\n\"Then how do you know but they are dark islands in the ocean?\"\n\n\"For several reasons,\" said the doctor looking gravely funny; \"one of\nwhich reasons is, that we can see the deep ragged edges of the holes,\nand that these edges join together again.\"\n\n\"But there could not be holes in _our_ ocean?\" said Daisy.\n\nDr. Sandford gave a good long grave look at her, set aside his empty\nplate which had held raspberries, and took a chair. He talked to her now\nwith serious quiet earnest, as if she had been a much older person.\n\n\"Our ocean, Daisy, you will remember, is an ocean of fluid matter. The\nocean of flame which surrounds the sun is gaseous matter--or a sort of\nocean of air, in a state of incandescence. This does not touch the sun,\nbut floats round it, upon or above another atmosphere of another\nkind--like the way in which our clouds float in the air over our heads.\nYou know how breaks come and go in the clouds; so you can imagine that\nthis luminous covering of the sun parts in places, and shews the sun\nthrough, and then closes up again.\"\n\n\"Is _that_ the way it is?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\n\"Dr. Sandford, you said a word just now I did not understand.\"\n\n\"Only one?\" said the doctor.\n\n\"I think there was only one I did not know in the least.\"\n\n\"Can you direct me to it?\"\n\n\"You said something about an ocean of air in a state--what state?\"\n\n\"Incandescence?\"\n\n\"That was it.\"\n\n\"That is a state where it gives out white heat.\"\n\n\"I thought everything at the sun must be on fire,\" said Daisy looking\nmeditatively at the doctor.\n\n\"You see you were mistaken. It has only a covering of clouds of fire--so\nto speak.\"\n\n\"But it must be very hot there.\"\n\n\"It is pretty hot _here_,\" said the doctor shrugging his\nshoulders,--\"ninety five millions of miles away; so I do not see that we\ncan avoid your conclusion.\"\n\n\"How much is ninety five millions?\"\n\n\"I am sure I don't know,\" said Dr. Sandford gravely. \"After I have gone\nas far as a million or so, I get tired.\"\n\n\"But I do not know much about arithmetic,\" said Daisy humbly. \"Mamma has\nnot wanted me to study. I don't know how much one million is.\"\n\n\"Arithmetic does not help one on a journey, Miss Daisy,\" said the doctor\npleasantly. \"Counting the miles did not comfort me to-day. But I can\ntell you this. If you and I were to set off on a railway train, straight\nfor the sun, and go at the rate of thirty-two miles an hour,--you know\nthat is pretty fast travelling?\"\n\n\"How fast do we go on the cars from here to New York?\"\n\n\"Thirty miles an hour.\"\n\n\"Now I know,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"If we were to set off and go straight to the sun at that rate of speed,\nkeeping it up night and day, it would take us--how long do you guess? It\nwould take us three hundred years and more; nearly three hundred and\nfifty years, to get there.\"\n\n\"I cannot imagine travelling so long,\" said Daisy gravely. At which Dr.\nSandford laughed; the first time Daisy had ever heard him do such a\nthing. It was a low, mellow laugh now; and she rather enjoyed it.\n\n\"I should like to know what a million is,\" she observed.\n\n\"Ten hundred thousand.\"\n\n\"And how many million miles did you say the sun is?\"\n\n\"Ninety-five millions of miles away.\"\n\nDaisy lay thinking about it.\n\n\"Can you imagine travelling faster? And then we need not be so long on\nthe journey,\" said Dr. Sandford. \"If we were to go as fast as a cannon\nball, it would take us about seven years--not quite so much--to get to\nthe sun.\"\n\n\"How fast does a cannon ball go?\"\n\n\"Fifty times as fast as a railway train.\"\n\n\"I cannot imagine that either, Dr. Sandford.\"\n\n\"Give it up, Daisy,\" said the doctor, rising and beginning to put\nhimself in order for travelling.\n\n\"Are you going?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Not till you have done with me!\"\n\n\"Dr. Sandford, have you told me all there is to tell about the sun?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Would it take too long this evening?\"\n\n\"Considering that the sun will not stay to be talked about, Daisy,\" said\nthe doctor glancing out of the window, \"I should say it would.\"\n\n\"Then I will ask only one thing more. Dr. Sandford, how can you tell so\nexactly how long it would take to go to the sun? how do you know?\"\n\n\"Quite fair, Daisy,\" said the doctor surveying her gravely. \"I know, by\nthe power of a science called mathematics, which enables one to do all\nsorts of impossible things. But you must take that on my word; I cannot\nexplain so that you would understand it.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" said Daisy.\n\nShe wanted further to ask what sort of a science mathematics might be;\nbut Dr. Sandford had answered a good many questions, and the sun was\ndown, down, behind the trees on the other side of the road. Daisy said\nno more. The doctor seeing her silent, smiled, and prepared himself to\ngo.\n\n\"Shall we finish the sun to-morrow, Daisy?\"\n\n\"O, if you please.\"\n\n\"Very well. Good bye.\"\n\nThe doctor went, leaving Daisy in a very refreshed state; with plenty to\nthink of. Daisy was quite waked out of her weariness and disappointment,\nand could do well enough without books for one day longer. She took her\nown raspberries now with great spirit.\n\n\"I have found two more wonderful things to talk to Dr. Sandford about,\nJuanita; that is three to-day.\"\n\n\"Does Miss Daisy think the doctor can tell her all?\"\n\n\"I don't know. He knows a great deal, Juanita.\"\n\n\"'Seems he knows more than Job did,\" said Mrs. Benoit, who had her\nprivate misgivings about the authenticity of all Dr. Sandford's\nstatements. Daisy thought a little.\n\n\"Juanita, Job lived a great while ago.\"\n\n\"Yes, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"How much did he know about the sun? does the Bible tell?\"\n\n\"It tells a little what he didn't know, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"O, Juanita, after I get through my tea and when you have had yours,\nwon't you read me in the Bible all about Job and the sun?\"\n\nMrs. Benoit liked nothing better; and whatever other amusements failed,\nor whatever other parties anywhere in the land found their employments\nunsatisfactory, there was one house where intent interest and unflagging\npleasure went through the whole evening; it was where Daisy and Mrs.\nBenoit read \"about Job and the sun.\" Truth to tell, as that portion of\nScripture is but small, they extended their reading somewhat.\n\nDaisy's first visiter the next day was her father. He came with fresh\nflowers and fresh fruit, and with \"Sandford and Merton\" too, in which he\nread to her; so the morning went well.\n\n\"Papa,\" said Daisy when he was about leaving her, \"do you not think Dr.\nSandford is a very interesting man?\"\n\n\"It is the general opinion of ladies, I believe, Daisy; but I advise you\nnot to lose your heart to him. I am afraid he is not to be depended on.\"\n\n\"O papa,\" said Daisy, a little shocked, \"I do not mean that he is a man\none would get _fond of_.\"\n\n\"Pray who do you think is, Daisy?\" said Mr. Randolph, maintaining his\ngravity admirably.\n\n\"Papa, don't you think Capt. Drummond is--and--\"\n\n\"And who, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I was thinking--Mr. Dinwiddie, papa.\" Daisy did not quite know how well\nthis last name would be relished, and she coloured a little\napprehensively.\n\n\"You are impartial in your professional tastes, I am glad to see,\" said\nMr. Randolph. Then observing how innocent of understanding him was the\ngrave little face of Daisy, he bent down to kiss her.\n\n\"And you are unfortunate in your favourites. Both at a distance! How is\nGary McFarlane?\"\n\n\"Papa, I think he has good nature; but I think he is rather frivolous.\"\n\nMr. Randolph looked soberly at the little face before him, and went away\nthinking his own thoughts. But he had the cruelty to repeat to Dr.\nSandford so much of this conversation as concerned that gentleman; in\ndoing so he unwittingly laid the foundation of more attention to Daisy\non the doctor's part, than he probably would ever otherwise have given\nher. To say truth--the idea propounded by Daisy was so very novel to\nthe doctor that it both amused and piqued him.\n\nMr. Randolph had hardly gone out, when Hephzibah came in. And then\nfollowed a lesson the like of which Daisy had not given yet. Hephzibah's\nattention was on everything but the business in hand. Also, she had a\nlittle less awe of Daisy lying on Mrs. Benoit's couch in a loose gown,\nthan when she met her in the Belvidere at Melbourne, dressed in an\nelegant cambrick frock with a resplendent sash.\n\n\"C, a, spells ca, Hephzibah. Now what is that?\"\n\n\"Over your finger?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"That's--C.\"\n\n\"C, a. And what does it spell?\"\n\n\"Did the stone fall right onto your foot?\"\n\n\"Yes--partly on.\"\n\n\"And was it broke right off?\"\n\n\"No. O no. Only the bone of my ankle was broken.\"\n\n\"It smarted some, I guess; didn't it?\"\n\n\"No. Now Hephzibah, what do those two letters spell?\"\n\n\"C, a, ca. That don't mean nothin'.\"\n\n\"Now the next. D, a--\"\n\n\"What's D, a?\"\n\n\"D, a, da.\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"Nothing; only it spells that.\"\n\n\"How soon'll you be up again?\"\n\n\"I do not know. In a few weeks.\"\n\n\"Before the nuts is ripe?\"\n\n\"O yes, I hope so.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll shew you where there's the biggest hickory nuts you ever\nsee! They're right back of Mr. Lamb's barn--only three fields to\ncross--and there's three hickory trees; and the biggest one has the\nbiggest nuts, mother says, she ever see. Will you go and get some?\"\n\n\"But, Hephzibah, those are Mr. Lamb's nuts, aren't they?\"\n\n\"I don't care.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Daisy, looking very grave, \"don't you know, Hephzibah, it is\nwrong to meddle with anything that belongs to other people?\"\n\n\"He hain't no right to 'em, I don't believe.\"\n\n\"I thought you said they were in Mr. Lamb's field?\"\n\n\"So they be.\"\n\n\"Then they are his nuts. You would not like anybody to take them, if\nthey belonged to you.\"\n\n\"It don't make no odds,\" said Hephzibah sturdily, but looking down at\nthe same time. \"He'll get it out of us some other way.\"\n\n\"Get it out of you?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"He gets it out of everybody,\" said Hephzibah. \"Tain't no odds.\"\n\n\"But Hephzibah, if those trees were yours, would you like to have Mr.\nLamb come and take the nuts away?\"\n\n\"No. I'd get somebody to shoot him.\"\n\nDaisy hardly knew how to go along with her discourse; Hephzibah's\nerratic opinions started up so fast. She looked at her little rough\npupil in absolute dismay. Hephzibah shewed no consciousness of having\nsaid anything remarkable. Very sturdy she looked; very assured in her\njudgment. Daisy eyed her rough bristling hair, with an odd kind of\nfeeling that it would not be more difficult to comb down into smoothness\nthan the unregulated thoughts of her mind. She must begin gently. But\nDaisy's eyes grew most wistfully earnest.\n\n\"Would you shoot Mr. Lamb for taking away your nuts?\"\n\n\"Just as lieves.\"\n\n\"Then how do you think he would feel about your taking his nuts?\"\n\n\"I don't care!\"\n\n\"But, Hephzibah, listen. Do you know what the Bible says? It says, that\nwe must do to other people just what we would like to have them do to us\nin the same things.\"\n\n\"Then he oughtn't to have sot such a price on his meat,\" said Hephzibah.\n\n\"But then,\" said Daisy, \"what would it be right for you to do about his\nnuts?\"\n\n\"I don't care,\" said Hephzibah. \"'Tain't no odds. I'm a going to get\n'em. I guess it's time for me to go home.\"\n\n\"But Hephzibah,--you have not done your lesson yet. I want you to learn\nall this row to-day. The next is, f, a, fa.\"\n\n\"That don't mean nothin',\" said Hephzibah.\n\n\"But you want to learn it, before you can go on to what does mean\nsomething.\"\n\n\"I don't guess I do,\" said Hephzibah.\n\n\"Don't you want to learn to read?\"\n\n\"Yes, but that ain't readin'.\"\n\n\"But you cannot learn to read without it,\" said Daisy.\n\nUnder this urging, Hephzibah did consent to go down the column of\ntwo-letter syllables.\n\n\"Ain't you going with me after them nuts?\" she said as soon as the\nbottom of the page was reached. \"I'll shew you a rabbit's nest. La! it's\nso pretty!\"\n\n\"I hope you will not take the nuts, Hephzibah, without Mr. Lamb's\nleave.\"\n\n\"I ain't going to ask his leave,\" said Hephzibah. \"He wouldn't give it\nto me, besides. It's fun, I tell you.\"\n\n\"It is wrong,\" said Daisy. \"I don't think there's any fun in doing\nwhat's wrong.\"\n\n\"It is fun, though, I tell you,\" said Hephzibah. \"It's real sport. The\nnuts come down like rain; and we get whole baskets full. And then, when\nyou crack 'em, I tell you, they are sweet'\"\n\n\"Hephzibah, do you know what the Bible says?\"\n\n\"I don't want to learn no more to-day,\" said the child. \"I'm going. Good\nbye, Daisy.\"\n\nShe stayed no further instruction of any kind; but caught up her calico\nsunbonnet and went off at a jump, calling out \"Good bye, Daisy!\" when\nshe had got some yards from the house. Daisy lay still, looking very\nthoughtful.\n\n\"The child has just tired you, my love!\" said the black woman.\n\n\"What shall I do, Juanita? She doesn't understand.\"\n\n\"My love knows who opened the eyes of the blind,\" said Juanita.\n\nDaisy sighed. Certainly teaching seemed to take very small hold on her\nrough little pupil. These thoughts were suddenly banished by the\nentrance of Mrs. Randolph.\n\nThe lady was alone this time. How like herself she looked, handsome and\nstately, in characteristic elegance of attire and manner both. Her white\nmorning dress floated off in soft edges of lace from her white arms; a\nshawl of precious texture was gathered loosely about them; on her head a\ngossamer web of some fancy manufacture fell off on either side, a mock\ncovering for it. She came up to Daisy and kissed her, and then examined\ninto her various arrangements, to see that she was in all respects well\nand properly cared for. Her mother's presence made Daisy feel very meek.\nHer kiss had been affectionate, her care was motherly; but with all that\nthere was not a turn of her hand nor a tone of her calm voice that did\nnot imply and express absolute possession, perfect control. That Daisy\nwas a little piece of property belonging to her in sole right, with\nwhich she did and would do precisely what it might please her, with very\nlittle concern how or whether it might please Daisy. Daisy was very far\nfrom putting all this in words, or even in distinct thoughts;\nnevertheless she felt and knew every bit of it; her mother's hand did\nnot touch Daisy's foot or her shoulder, without her inward consciousness\nwhat a powerful hand it was. Now it is true that all this was in one way\nno new thing; Daisy had always known her mother's authority to be just\nwhat it was now; but it was only of late that a question had arisen\nabout the bearing of this authority upon her own little life and\ninterests. With the struggle that had been, and the new knowledge that\nmore struggles in the future were not impossible, the consciousness of\nher mother's power over her had a new effect. Mrs. Randolph sat down and\ntook out her tetting work; but she only did a few stitches.\n\n\"What child was that I met running from the house as I came up?\" she\nasked, a little to Daisy's discomfiture.\n\n\"It was a little girl who belongs in the village, mamma.\"\n\n\"How comes she to know you?\"\n\n\"It happened by accident partly, in the first place.\"\n\n\"What accident?\"\n\n\"Mamma, I will tell you another time, if you will let me.\" For Daisy\nknew that Juanita was not far off. But Mrs. Randolph only said, \"Tell me\nnow.\"\n\n\"Mamma--it was partly an accident,\" Daisy repeated. \"I found out by\naccident that they were very poor--and I carried them something to eat.\"\n\n\"Whom do you mean by 'them?'\"\n\n\"That little girl and her mother--Mrs. Harbonner.\"\n\n\"When did you do this?\"\n\n\"About the time of my birthday.\"\n\n\"And you have kept up the acquaintance since that time?\"\n\n\"I carried the woman work once, mamma. I had papa's leave to go.\"\n\n\"Did you ask mine?\"\n\n\"No, mamma. It was papa who had forbidden me to go into any house\nwithout leave; so I asked him to let me tell her about the work.\"\n\n\"What was this child here for to-day?\"\n\n\"Mamma--she is a poor child and could not go to school; and--I was\ntrying to teach her something.\"\n\n\"What were you trying to teach her?\"\n\n\"To read, mamma--and to do right.\"\n\n\"Have you ever done this before?\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma--a few times.\"\n\n\"Can it be that you have a taste for low society, Daisy?\"\n\nMrs. Randolph had been asking questions calmly while going on with her\ntetting work; at this one she raised her eyes and bent them full, with\nsteady cold inquiry, on Daisy's face. Daisy looked a little troubled.\n\n\"No, mamma--I do not think I have.\"\n\n\"Is not this child very rude and ill-mannered?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, but--\"\n\n\"Is she even a clean child?\"\n\n\"Not _very_, mamma.\"\n\n\"You are changed, Daisy,\" said Mrs. Randolph, with a slight but keen\nexpression of disdain. The child felt it, yet felt it not at all to the\nmoving of her steadfastness.\n\n\"Mamma--it was only that I might teach her. She knows nothing at all,\nalmost.\"\n\n\"And does Daisy Randolph think such a child is a fit companion for her?\"\n\n\"Not a _companion_, mamma.\"\n\n\"What business have you with a child who is not a fit companion for\nyou?\"\n\n\"Only, mamma, to try to be of some benefit to her.\"\n\n\"I shall be of some benefit to you, now. Since I cannot trust you,\nDaisy--since your own delicacy and feeling of what is right does not\nguide you in such matters, I shall lay my commands on you for the\nfuture. You are to have nothing to do with any person, younger or older,\nwithout finding out what my pleasure is about it. Do you understand\nme?\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma.\"\n\n\"You are to give no more lessons to children who are not fit companions\nfor you. You are not to have anything to do with this child in\nparticular. Daisy, understand me--I forbid you to speak to her again.\"\n\n\"O mamma--\"\n\n\"Not a word,\" said Mrs. Randolph.\n\n\"But mamma, please! just this. May I not tell her once, that I cannot\nteach her? She will think me so strange!\"\n\nMrs. Randolph was silent.\n\n\"Might I not, just that once, mamma?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"She will not know what to think of me,\" said Daisy; her lip trembling,\nher eye reddening, and only able by the greatest self-control to keep\nfrom bursting into tears.\n\n\"That is your punishment\"--replied Mrs. Randolph, in a satisfied, quiet\nsort of way. Daisy felt crushed. She could hardly think.\n\n\"I am going to take you in hand and bring you into order,\" said Mrs.\nRandolph with a smile, bending over to kiss Daisy, and looking at her\nlips and eyes in a way Daisy wished she would not. The meek little face\ncertainly promised small difficulty in her way, and Mrs. Randolph kissed\nthe trembling mouth again.\n\n\"I do not think we shall quarrel,\" she remarked. \"But if we do, Daisy, I\nshall know how to bear my part of it.\"\n\nShe turned carelessly to her tetting again, and Daisy lay still; quiet\nand self-controlled, it was all she could do. She could hardly bear to\nwatch her mother at her work; the thought of \"quarrels\" between them was\nso inevitable and so dreadful. She could hardly bear to look out of her\nwindow; the sunshine and bright things out there seemed to remind her of\nher troubles; for they did not look bright now as they had done in the\nearly morning. She lay still and kept still; that was all; while Mrs.\nRandolph kept at her work amusing herself with it an uncommonly long\ntime. At last she was tired; threw her shawl round her shoulders again,\nand stood up to go.\n\n\"I think we can soon have you home, Daisy,\" she said as she stooped to\nkiss her. \"Ask Dr. Sandford when he comes, how soon it will do now to\nmove you; ask him to-night; will you?\"\n\nDaisy said \"Yes, mamma,\" and Mrs. Randolph went.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\n\nThe day was a heavy one to Daisy and Juanita after that. The little\ncottage was very silent. Daisy lay still, saying nothing, and generally\nkeeping her face turned towards the window so that her friend could not\nsee at; and when Mrs. Benoit proposed, as she several times did, to read\nto Daisy or sing to her, she was always answered by a gentle, \"No,\nJuanita,\" which was as decided as it was gentle. The last time indeed,\nDaisy had yielded and given assent to the proposition; but Mrs. Benoit\ndid not feel sure that she gave anything else; either attention or\napprobation. Daisy's dinner she had prepared with particular care; but\nit was not enjoyed; Mrs. Benoit knew that. She sighed to herself, and\nthen sang to herself, in a softly kind of way; Daisy gave no heed, and\nonly lay still with her face turned to the window. By and by, late in\nthe afternoon, the doctor came in. He was not a favourite of Mrs.\nBenoit, but she was glad to see him now. She withdrew a little out of\nthe way and watched to see what he would say.\n\nThe doctor's first care as usual was the foot. That was going on well.\nHaving attended to that, he looked at Daisy's face. It did not seem to\nhim satisfactory, Mrs. Benoit saw; for his next move was to the head of\nthe couch, and he felt Daisy's hand, while his eyes studied her.\n\n\"How do you do to-day?\"\n\n\"I am getting better,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Are you? Your voice sounds weak to-night.\"\n\n\"I do not suppose I am very strong.\"\n\n\"How many wonderful things have you found to-day?\"\n\n\"I have not thought about them--I have not found any.\"\n\nDoctor Sandford bent a little over Daisy's couch, holding her hand still\nand examining her.\n\n\"What is the matter, Daisy?\" said he.\n\nDaisy fidgeted. The doctor's fine blue eyes were too close to her and\ntoo steady to be escaped from. Daisy turned her own eyes uneasily away,\nthen brought them back; she could not help it. He was waiting for her to\nspeak.\n\n\"Dr. Sandford,\" she said humbly, \"won't you please excuse me?\"\n\n\"Excuse you what, Daisy?\"\n\n\"From telling you what you want to know.\"\n\n\"Pray why should I?\"\n\n\"It is something that is quite private to myself.\"\n\nIf the doctor's lips remained perfectly still for some moments, it was\nbecause they had a private inclination to smile, in which he would not\nindulge them. Daisy saw nothing but the most moveless gravity.\n\n\"Private from all but your physician, Daisy,\" he said at last. \"Do not\nyou know he is an exception to general rules?\"\n\n\"Is he?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Certainly. I always become acquainted with people's private affairs.\"\n\n\"But I do not want that you should be acquainted with mine.\"\n\n\"No matter. You are under my care,\" said the doctor. Then after a minute\nhe added in a lower tone, \"What have you been shedding tears about\nto-day?\"\n\nDaisy's face looked intensely grave; wise and old beyond her days,\nthough the mouth was also sweet. So she faced the doctor and answered\nhim with the sedateness of fifty years--\"I can't very well tell you, Dr.\nSandford.\"\n\n\"You have been shedding tears to-day?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir--\" said Daisy softly.\n\n\"A good many of them? You have been lying here with your face to the\nwindow, crying quietly, a good part of the afternoon--have you not?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" said Daisy, wondering at him.\n\n\"Now I am your physician and must know what was the matter.\"\n\n\"It is something I cannot tell about, Dr. Sandford.\"\n\n\"Yes, Daisy, you are mistaken. Whatever concerns you, concerns me; if it\nis the concern of nobody else. Were you tired of lying here so long, day\nafter day?\"\n\n\"O no, sir! I don't mind that at all. I mean--I don't mind it at all\nmuch.\"\n\n\"You do not?\" said the doctor. \"Have you lost a pet kitten, or a beloved\nlap-dog?\"\n\n\"I haven't any, either a kitten or a dog,\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Has that young cavalier, Preston Gary, neglected you?\"\n\n\"He would not do that,\" said Daisy; \"but he is very fond of shooting.\"\n\n\"He is!\" said Dr. Sandford. \"Most boys are. You have not felt lonely,\nthen, Daisy?\"\n\n\"O no, sir.\"\n\n\"I believe I should, in your place. What is the matter, then? I ask as\nyour friend and physician; and you must tell me, Daisy. Who has been to\nsee you to-day?\"\n\n\"Papa--he came and read to me. Then a little girl--and mamma.\"\n\n\"Did the little girl trouble you?\"\n\n\"Not much--\" said Daisy hesitatingly.\n\n\"In what way?\"\n\n\"She only would not learn to read as fast as I wanted.\"\n\n\"You were the teacher?\"\n\n\"Yes sir--I was trying--I wanted to teach her.\"\n\n\"And has her obduracy or stupidity caused all this sorrow and\nannoyance?\"\n\n\"O no, sir--\" But Daisy's eyes filled.\n\n\"Then has Mrs. Randolph been the trouble-maker?\"\n\nNow Daisy flushed, her lip worked tremblingly; she turned her little\nhead to one side and laid her hand over her brow, to baffle those steady\nblue eyes of the doctor's. But the doctor left the side of the couch and\ntook a step or two towards where Juanita was sitting.\n\n\"Mrs. Benoit,\" said he, \"has this little patient of yours had her tea?\"\n\n\"No, sir. His honour knows, it's early yet in the afternoon.\"\n\n\"Not so very. Do you mean she took enough for dinner to last her till\nto-morrow?\"\n\n\"No, sir; her dinner was little better than nothing.\"\n\n\"Then make a cup, in your best style, Mrs. Benoit--and perhaps you will\ngive me one. And have you got any more of those big raspberries for her?\nbring them and a bit of toast.\"\n\nWhile Juanita was gone on this business, which took a little time, the\ndoctor slowly paced back and forth through the small cottage room, with\nhis hands behind him and a thoughtful face. Daisy fancied he was\nconsidering her affair; but she was very much mistaken; Dr. Sandford had\nutterly forgotten her for the moment, and was pondering some difficult\nprofessional business. When Juanita appeared with her tea tray, he came\nout of his abstraction; and though still with a very unrelaxed face, he\narranged Daisy's pillows so that she might be raised up a little and\nfeel more comfortable. His hands were strong and skilful, and kind too;\nthere was a sort of pleasure in having them manage her; but Daisy looked\non with a little wonder to see him take the charge of being her servitor\nin what came afterwards. He made her a cup of tea; let her taste it from\nhis hands; and gave the plate of raspberries into her own.\n\n\"Is it good?\" he asked her.\n\n\"Very good!\" Daisy said, with so gentle and reverential a look at him\nthat the doctor smiled. He said nothing however at present but to take\ncare that she had her supper; and looked meanwhile to see the colour of\nDaisy's cheeks change a little, and the worn, wearied lines of her face\ntake a more natural form. His own ministrations were more effectual than\nthe eating and drinking; it was so very odd to have Dr. Sandford waiting\nupon her that Daisy was diverted, and could not help it.\n\n\"Will you take some tea too, Dr. Sandford?\" she said in the midst of\nthis. \"Won't you take it now, while it is hot?\"\n\n\"I take my tea cold, Daisy, thank you. I'll have it presently.\"\n\nSo he poured out his own cup and left it to cool while he attended to\nDaisy; and when she would have no more, he took the cup from the tray\nand sent Mrs. Benoit off with the rest of the things.\n\n\"Now Daisy,\" said he as he took away her bolstering pillows and laid her\nnicely down again, \"now, Daisy, I am your confidential friend and\nphysician, and I want to know what command Mrs. Randolph has given to\ntrouble you. It is my business to know, and you must tell me.\"\n\nHe was so cool about it, and so determined, that Daisy was staggered. He\nstood holding her hand and waiting for her answer.\n\n\"Mamma--\"\n\nDaisy came to a great stop. The doctor waited.\n\n\"It was about the little girl.\"\n\n\"Very well. Go on, Daisy.\"\n\nHe took up his cup of tea now and began to sip it. Poor Daisy! She had\nnever been more bewildered in her life.\n\n\"What about the little girl?\"\n\n\"Mamma--doesn't want me to teach her.\"\n\n\"Is it so favourite an amusement?\"\n\n\"No, sir--\" said Daisy hesitatingly.\n\n\"Was that all the trouble?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\nThe doctor sipped his cup of tea and looked at Daisy. He did not say\nanything more; yet his eyes so steadily waited for what further she had\nto say, that Daisy fidgeted; like a fascinated creature, obliged to do\nwhat it would not. She could not help looking into Dr. Sandford's face,\nand she could not withstand what she saw there.\n\n\"Dr. Sandford,\" she began in her old-fashioned way, \"you are asking me\nwhat is private between my mother and me.\"\n\n\"Nothing is private from your physician, Daisy. I am not Dr. Sandford; I\nam your physician.\"\n\n\"But you are Dr. Sandford to mamma.\"\n\n\"The business is entirely between you and me.\"\n\nDaisy hesitated a little longer, but the power of fascination upon her\nwas irresistible.\n\n\"I was sorry not to teach the little girl,\" she said at length; \"but I\nwas particularly troubled because--because--\"\n\n\"Mrs. Randolph was displeased with your system of benevolence?\"\n\n\"No--not that. Yes, I was troubled about that too. But what troubled me\nmost was--that mamma would not let me speak to her, to tell her why I\nmust not teach her. I must not say anything to her again, at all.\"\n\nDr. Sandford's eyes, looking, saw that Daisy had indeed spoken out her\ntrouble now. Such a cloud of sorrow came over her brow; such witnessing\nredness about her eyelids, though Daisy let the witness of tears get no\nfurther.\n\n\"What do you suppose was your mother's purpose in making that last\nregulation?\" he went on in a cool business tone.\n\n\"I don't know--I suppose to punish me,\"--Daisy said faintly.\n\n\"Punish you for what?\"\n\n\"Mamma did not like me to teach that little girl--and I had done it, I\nmean I had begun to do it, without asking her.\"\n\n\"Was it a great pleasure?\" said the doctor.\n\n\"It would have been a great pleasure if I could have taught her to\nread,\" Daisy said, with her face brightening at the idea.\n\n\"I presume it would. Well Daisy, now you and I will arrange this affair.\nI do not consider it wholesome for you to engage in this particular\namusement at this particular time; so I shall endorse Mrs. Randolph's\nprohibition; but I will go round--Where does this girl live, and who is\nshe?\"\n\n\"Her name is Hephzibah Harbonner; she lives in the village, on the road\nwhere the Episcopal church is--you know;--a little way further on. I\nguess it's a quarter of a mile.\"\n\n\"South, eh? Well, I will go round by her house and tell the girl that I\ncannot let you do any such kindnesses just now, and that till I give her\nleave she must not come to see you. How will that do, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Thank you, Dr. Sandford!\"\n\nHe saw it was very earnestly spoken and that Daisy's brow looked\nclearer.\n\n\"And instead of that amusement, you must study wonderful things to\nmorrow. Will you?\"\n\n\"O yes, Dr. Sandford! But we have not finished about the sun yet.\"\n\n\"No. Well--to-morrow, then, Daisy.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir. Dr. Sandford, mamma wanted me to ask you a question\nbefore you go.\"\n\n\"Ask it.\"\n\n\"How soon I can be moved home?\"\n\n\"Are you in a great hurry?\"\n\n\"No, sir, but I think mamma is.\"\n\n\"You can bear to wait a little longer and study wonderful things from\nyour window?\"\n\n\"O yes, sir! I think I can do it better here than at home, because my\nbed is so close to the window, I can look right out.\"\n\n\"I shall not let you be moved just yet, Daisy. Good night. I will\nsee--what's her name?\"\n\n\"Harbonner--Hephzibah Harbonner.\"\n\n\"Good night.\"\n\nAnd Daisy watched the doctor as he went down the path, mounted his horse\nand rode away, with great admiration; thinking how handsome and how\nclever and how chivalric he was. Daisy did not use that word in thinking\nof him; nevertheless his skilful nursing and his taking up her cause so\neffectually had made a great impression upon her. She was greatly\ncomforted. Juanita, watching her face, saw that it looked so; there was\neven a dawning smile upon Daisy's lips at one time. It faded however\ninto a deep gravity; and one or two long drawn breaths told of heavy\nthoughts.\n\n\"What troubles has my love?\" said the old woman.\n\nDaisy turned her head quick round from the window, and smiled a very\nsweet smile in her face.\n\n\"I was thinking, Juanita.\"\n\n\"My little lady has a cloud come over her again.\"\n\n\"Yes, Juanita, I think I have. O Juanita, I might tell you! What shall I\ndo, when everybody wants me to do what--what I don't think is right?\nWhat shall I do, Juanita? I don't know what I shall do.\"\n\n\"Suppose Miss Daisy take the Bible to her pa'--Miss Daisy knows what her\npa' promised.\"\n\n\"So he did, Juanita! thank you. I had forgotten that.\"\n\nIn five minutes more Daisy was fast asleep. The black woman stood\nlooking at her. There was no cloud on the little face now, but the signs\nof the day's work were there. Pale cheeks, and weary features, and the\ntokens of past tears. Juanita stood and looked, and twinkled away one\nor two from her own eye-lashes; and then knelt down at the head of the\nbed and began a whispered prayer. A prayer for the little child before\nher, in which her heart poured itself out, that she might be kept from\nevil, and might walk in the straight path, and never be tempted or\ndriven from it. Juanita's voice grew louder than a whisper in her\nearnestness; but Daisy slept on.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\n\nThe next day was an exceedingly hot and sultry one. Daisy had no\nvisiters until quite late in the afternoon; however it was a peaceful\nday. She lay quiet and happy, and Juanita was quite as well contented\nthat the house should be empty and they two alone. Late in the\nafternoon, Preston came.\n\n\"Well my dear little Daisy! so you are coming home\"\n\n\"Am I?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"To be sure; and your foot is going to get well, and we are going to\nhave all sorts of grand doings for you.\"\n\n\"My foot _is_ getting well.\"\n\n\"Certainly. Don't be a Quaker, Daisy.\"\n\n\"What sort of doings are you going to have, Preston?\"\n\n\"First thing--as soon as you are well enough for it--we are going to\nhave a grand pic-nic party to Silver Lake.\"\n\n\"Silver Lake? what, on the other side of the river?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"O how delightful! But I shall not be able to go in a long time,\nPreston.\"\n\n\"Yes, you will. Aunt Felicia says you are coming back to Melbourne now;\nand once we get you there, we'll cure you up. Why you must have moped\nhalf your wits away by this time. I don't expect to find more than\ntwo-thirds of the original Daisy left.\"\n\n\"I haven't moped at all.\"\n\n\"There! that is proof the first. When people are moping and do not know\nthey are moping, that is the sign their wits are departing. Poor Daisy!\nI don't wonder. We'll get you to rights at Melbourne.\"\n\n\"Doctor Sandford will not let me be moved.\"\n\n\"Doctor Sandford cannot help himself. When aunt Felicia says so, he will\nfind ways and means.\"\n\n\"Preston,\" said Daisy, \"I do not think you understand what sort of a man\nDr. Sandford is.\"\n\n\"Pray enlighten me, Daisy. I thought I did.\"\n\nBut Daisy was silent.\n\n\"What sort of a man is he?\"\n\n\"Preston,\" said Daisy abruptly, \"I wish you would bring me from\nMelbourne that tray filled with something,--plaster,--I don't know what\nit is,--on which Capt. Drummond and I studied geography, and history.\"\n\n\"Geography and history on a tray!\" said Preston. \"That would be one's\nhands full to carry!\"\n\n\"Well, but it was,\" said Daisy. \"The tray was smooth filled with\nsomething, something a little soft, on which you could mark; and Capt.\nDrummond drew the map of England on it; and we were just getting into\nthe battle--what battle was it?--when William came over from France and\nKing Harold met him?\"\n\n\"Hastings?\"\n\n\"We were just come to the battle of Hastings, before Capt. Drummond went\naway; and I should like so much to go on with it!\"\n\n\"But was the battle of Hastings on the tray?\"\n\n\"No, Preston, but the place was; and Capt. Drummond told me about the\nbattles.\"\n\n\"Who is here to tell you about them now, Daisy?\"\n\n\"Couldn't you?--sometimes, now and then?\"\n\n\"I might; but you see, Daisy, you are coming to Melbourne now, and there\nwill be Silver Lake and lots of other things to do. You won't want the\ntray here.\"\n\nDaisy looked a little wistfully at her cousin. She said nothing. And\nPreston turned sharply, for he heard a soft rustle coming up the path,\nand was just in time to spring to the door and open it for his aunt.\n\n\"Plow insufferably hot!\" was Mrs. Randolph's remark. \"How do you do,\nDaisy?\"\n\n\"I think she is bewitched to stay in banishment, aunt Felicia; she will\nhave it she is not coming home.\"\n\nMrs. Randolph's answer was given to the doctor, who entered at the\ninstant behind Preston.\n\n\"How soon can Daisy be moved, doctor?\"\n\nThe doctor took a leisurely view of his little patient before he\nreplied.\n\n\"Not at present.\"\n\n\"How soon?\"\n\n\"If I think her fit for it, in a fortnight; possibly earlier.\"\n\n\"But that is, not till September!\"\n\n\"I am afraid you are correct,\" said the doctor coolly. Mrs. Randolph\nstood pondering the question, how far it was needful to own his\nauthority.\n\n\"It is dreadfully hot here, in this little place! She would be much\nbetter if she were out of it.\"\n\n\"How have you found it at Melbourne to-day?\"\n\n\"Insufferable!\"\n\n\"How has it been with you, Daisy?\"\n\n\"It has been a nice day, Dr. Sandford.\"\n\nThe contrast was so extreme between the mental atmosphere of one speaker\nand of the other, that Dr. Sandford smiled. It was ninety degrees of\nFahrenheit--and the fall of the dew.\n\n\"I have heard nobody say as much for the day before,\" he remarked.\n\n\"But she would be much better at Melbourne.\"\n\n\"As soon as I think that, she shall go.\"\n\nThe doctor was absolute in his sphere, and Mr. Randolph moreover, she\nknew, would back him; so Mrs. Randolph held her peace, though\ndispleased. Nay, she entered into a little conversation with the doctor\non other subjects, as lively as the day would admit, before she\ndeparted. Preston, stayed behind, partly to improve his knowledge of Dr.\nSandford.\n\n\"All has gone well to-day, Daisy?\" he asked her pleasantly.\n\n\"O yes. And Dr. Sandford, shall we finish the sun?\"\n\n\"By all means. What more shall I tell you?\"\n\n\"How much more do you know, sir?\"\n\n\"I know that it is globe-shaped--I know how big it is--I know how heavy\nit is; and I know that it turns round and round continually.\"\n\n\"O sir, do you _know_ all these things?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Please, Dr. Sandford, how can you?\"\n\n\"You would mature into a philosopher, in time, Daisy.\"\n\n\"I hope not,\" muttered Preston.\n\n\"I know that it is globe-shaped, Daisy, because it turns round and lets\nme see all sides of it.\"\n\n\"Is one side different from another?\"\n\n\"Only so far, as that there are spots here and there,\" Dr. Sandford went\non, looking at the exceeding eagerness in Daisy's eyes. \"The spots\nappear at one edge--pass over to the other edge, and go out of sight.\nAfter a certain time I see them come back again where I saw them first.\"\n\n\"O I should like to see the spots on the sun!\" said Daisy. \"You said\nthey were holes in the curtain, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What curtain?\" said Preston.\n\n\"You are not a philosopher,\" said the doctor.\n\n\"How long does it take them, the spots, Dr. Sandford, to go round and\ncome back again?\"\n\n\"A little more than twenty-five days.\"\n\n\"How very curious!\" said Daisy. \"I wonder what it turns round for--the\nsun, I mean?\"\n\n\"You have got too deep there,\" said the doctor. \"I cannot tell you.\"\n\n\"But there must be some reason,\" said Daisy; \"or it would stand still.\"\n\n\"It is in the nature of the thing, I suppose,\" said Dr. Sandford; \"but\nwe do not fully know its nature yet. Only what I am telling you.\"\n\n\"How came people to find these things out?\"\n\n\"By watching--and experimenting--and calculating.\"\n\n\"Then how big is the sun, Dr. Sandford?\"\n\n\"How big does it look?\"\n\n\"Not very large--I don't know--I can't think of anything it looks like.\"\n\n\"It looks just about as big as the moon does.\"\n\n\"Is it just the same size as the moon? But Dr. Sandford, it is a great\ndeal further off, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Four hundred times as far.\"\n\n\"Then it must be four hundred times as large, I should think.\"\n\n\"It is just about that.\"\n\n\"But I do not know how large that would be. I cannot think.\"\n\n\"Nor can I, Daisy. But I can help you. Suppose we, and our earth, were\nin the centre of the sun; and our moon going round us at the same\ndistance from us that she is now; there would be room enough for the\nwhole concern, as far as distances are concerned.\"\n\n\"In the sun, Dr. Sandford?\"\n\n\"In the sun.\"\n\n\"And the moon as far off as she is now?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"But the _moon_ would not be in the sun too?\"\n\n\"Plenty of room, and to spare.\"\n\nDaisy was silent now. Preston looked from her face to the doctor's.\n\n\"Not only that, Daisy; but the moon then would be two hundred thousand\nmiles within the circumference of the sun; the sun's surface would be\ntwo hundred thousand miles beyond her.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Dr. Sandford!\"\n\n\"What for, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I am so glad to know all that.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nDaisy did not answer. She did not feel ready to tell her whole thought,\nnot to both her friends together, at least; and she did not know how to\nframe her reply. But then perceiving that Dr. Sandford was looking for\nan answer, and that she was guilty of the rudeness of withholding it,\nshe blushed and spoke.\n\n\"It makes me understand some things better.\"\n\n\"What, for instance?\" said the doctor, looking as grave as ever, though\nPreston was inclined to laugh. Daisy saw it; nevertheless she answered,\n\n\"The first chapter of Genesis.\"\n\n\"O you are there, are you?\" said the doctor. \"What light have I thrown\nupon the passage, Daisy? It has not appeared to myself.\"\n\nNow Daisy hesitated. A sure though childish instinct told her that her\nthoughts and feelings on this subject would meet with no sympathy. She\ndid not like to speak them.\n\n\"Daisy has peculiar views, Dr. Sandford,\" said Preston. But the doctor\npaid him no attention. He looked at Daisy, lifted her up and arranged\nher pillows; then as he laid her back said, \"Give me my explanation of\nthat chapter, Daisy.\"\n\n\"It isn't an explanation, sir;--I did not know there was anything to\nexplain.\"\n\n\"The light I have thrown on it then--out of the sun.\"\n\nPreston was amused, Daisy saw; she could not tell whether the doctor\nwas; his blue eyes gave no sign, except of a will to hear what she had\nto say. Daisy hesitated, and hesitated, and then with something very\nlike the old diplomacy she had partly learned and partly inherited from\nher mother, she said,\n\n\"If you will read the chapter, I will tell you.\"\n\nNow Daisy did not think Dr. Sandford would care to read the chapter, or\nperhaps have the time for it; but with an unmoved face he swung himself\nround on his chair and called on Mrs. Benoit for a Bible. Preston was in\na state of delight, and Mrs. Benoit of wonder. The Bible was brought,\nDr. Sandford took it, and opened it.\n\n\"We have only time for a short lecture to-day,\" he remarked, \"for I must\nbe off. Now Daisy, I will read, and you shall comment.\"\n\nDaisy felt worried. She turned uneasily and rested her face on her hand,\nand so lay looking at the doctor; at his handsome calm features and\nglittering blue eye. What could _she_ say to him? The doctor's eye saw a\ngrave sweet little face, a good deal flushed, very grave, with a whole\nburden of thought behind its unruffled simplicity. It may be said, that\nhis curiosity was as great as Daisy's unwillingness. He began, facing\nher as he read. Juanita stood by, somewhat anxious.\n\n'\"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.\"'--\n\nThe doctor stopped and looked down at that face of Daisy looking up at\nhim. He waited.\n\n\"I did not use to think how much all that meant,\" said Daisy humbly. The\ndoctor went on.\n\nHe went on with the grand, majestic words of the story, which sounded\nvery strange to Daisy from his lips, but very grand; till he came to the\nfourteenth verse. '\"And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament\nof the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for\nsigns, and for seasons, and for days, and years: and let them be for\nlights in the firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth: and\nit was so.\"' The doctor looked at Daisy again.\n\n\"There,\" said she, \"that is very different now from what it used to\nbe--I didn't know what sort of lights those were; it's a great deal more\nwonderful now. Won't you read on a little further?\"\n\n\"'And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and\nthe lesser light to rule the night; he made the stars also. And God set\nthem in the firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth, and\nto rule over the day, and over the night, and to divide the light from\nthe darkness: and God saw that it was good.'\"\n\n\"That is what I mean,\" said Daisy, as the doctor paused. \"I never knew\nbefore what those 'lights' meant--I thought the sun was--I don't know\nwhat; I didn't think much about it; but now I never shall forget again.\nI know now what sort of a light was made to rule the day; and I don't\nwonder--\"\n\n\"Do not wonder what, Daisy?\"\n\n\"I do not wonder that God said that it was good. I am so much obliged to\nyou for telling me about it.\"\n\n\"Never heard a more satisfactory application of knowledge in my\nlife,\"--the doctor remarked with a smile as he handed back the Bible to\nMrs. Benoit. And then he and Preston went off; but Daisy lay long very\nthoughtfully looking after them out of her window. Till the sound of the\nhorses' feet was far out of hearing Daisy lay there looking into the\nevening. She did not stir till Mrs. Benoit brought her supper.\n\n\"Isn't it wonderful, Juanita,\" she said with a long drawn breath, \"how\nthe sun divides the light from the darkness?\"\n\n\"Most things is wonderful, that the Lord makes,\" answered the black\nwoman.\n\n\"Are they?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"But what makes my love sigh?\" said Juanita anxiously; for Daisy's face\nhad not brightened up, though she was taking her tea. Daisy looked at\nher.\n\n\"O Juanita!\" she said,--\"I am afraid that Dr. Sandford is in the\ndarkness!\"\n\n\"Where the sun don't shine it be darkness, sure!\" said Juanita. \"And he\ndo not see the Light of the world, Miss Daisy.\"\n\nDaisy's eyes filled, filled. She liked Dr. Sandford very much. And then\nwho else that she loved had never seen that Light! Daisy pushed aside\nher tears and tried to drink her tea; but at last she gave it up. Her\nspoon fell into her saucer and she lay down and hid her face in the\npillow. The black woman stood with a strange grave look and with\nwatering eyes, silent for a little time; holding Daisy's tray in her\nhands and waiting.\n\n\"Miss Daisy--\"\n\n\"What, Juanita?\"\n\n\"My love take her tea, to be strong; and then see how many she can bring\nout of the darkness.\"\n\n\"I, Juanita?\" said Daisy rousing up.\n\n\"Maybe the Lord send his message by little hands. What hinder?\"\n\n\"But, Juanita, _I_ can't do anything?\"\n\n\"Carry the Lord's message, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"Can I?\"\n\n\"Why not, my love? The dear Lord, he do all. And Miss Daisy knows, he\nhear the prayer of his servants.\"\n\nThe child looked at the black woman, with a wistful, earnest, searching\nlook that it was curious to see. She said nothing more; she eyed Juanita\nas if she were searching into the depth of something; then she went on\nwith her supper. She was thoughtful all the evening; busy with\ncogitations which she did not reveal; quiet and absent minded. Juanita\nguessed why; and many a prayer went up from her own secret heart.\n\nBut from, about this time Daisy began to grow well again. She could not\nbe moved, of course; Dr. Sandford would not permit that; neither to be\ncarried home, nor to change her place and position in the cottage. But\nshe was getting ready for it. The latter half of August cooled off from\nits fierce heats and was pleasantly warm. Daisy took the benefit of the\nchange. She had rather a good time, those last weeks at Juanita's house;\nand perhaps that was one reason why Dr. Sandford, seeing it, chose to\nlet well alone and would not have anybody take Daisy home. Daisy had a\nvery good time. She had the peace of Juanita's house; and at home she\nknew there would be things to trouble her. She had books and could read\nnow as much as she liked; and she was very fond of reading. Preston did\nnot find it expedient to bring the geography tray; on the other hand,\nMr. Randolph thought it good to come every day and spend a piece of time\nwith his little daughter; and became better acquainted with her than\never he had been in his life before. He discovered that Daisy was very\nfond of knowledge; that he could please her no way better than by taking\nup the history of England and reading to her and stopping to explain\neverything by the way which Daisy did not understand. English history\nwas certainly an old story to Mr. Randolph; but to discuss it with Daisy\nwas a very new thing. He found her eager, patient, intelligent, and wise\nwith an odd sort of child-wisdom which yet was not despicable for older\nyears. Daisy's views of the feudal system, and of the wittenagemot, and\nof trial by jury, and of representative legislation, were intensely\namusing to Mr. Randolph; he said it was going back to a primitive\ncondition of society, to talk them over with her; though there I think\nhe was mistaken. If Daisy had read those pages of history to herself,\nshe would have passed over some of these matters at least with little\nheed; she would not have gone to anybody with questions. But Mr.\nRandolph reading to her, it was an easy thing to ask the meaning of a\nword as they passed; and that word would draw on a whole little bit of\ntalk. In this intercourse Mr. Randolph was exceedingly gentle,\ndeliberate, and kind. Daisy had nothing to fear, not even that she might\nweary him; so those were hours of real enjoyment to both parties.\n\nPreston not very seldom came and made himself agreeable; playing an\noccasional game of chess, and more often regaling Daisy with a history\nof his expeditions. Other visitors Daisy had from Melbourne, now and\nthen; but her best friend for real service, after her father and\nJuanita, was Dr. Sandford. He took great care of his little patient's\ncomfort and happiness; which was a pretty thing in him, seeing that he\nwas a young man, busy with a very good country practice, and furthermore\nbusy with the demands made upon him as an admired pet of society. For\nthat was Dr. Sandford, and he knew it perfectly well. Nevertheless his\nkind care of Daisy never abated.\n\nIt was of course partly his professional zeal and care that were called\nfor; but it could not have been those that made him keep up his lectures\nto Daisy on the wonderful things she found for him, day by day. In\nprofessional care those lectures certainly began; but Daisy was getting\nwell now; had nothing more to trouble her, and shewed an invariably\nhappy as well as wise little face. Yet Dr. Sandford used to sit down and\ntell her of the things she asked about, with a sort of amused\npatience--if it was no more; at any rate he was never impatient. He\ntalked to Daisy of the stars, which, with the moon, were very naturally\nthe next subjects of investigation after the sun.\n\nAt last Daisy got him upon the subject of trilobites. It was not\ndifficult. Dr. Sandford was far more easy to move than Preston--in this\nmatter at least. He only smiled, and slid into the story very simply;\nthe story that Daisy was so eager to hear. And it did not seem less\nworth hearing than she had expected, nor less wonderful, nor less\ninteresting. Daisy thought about it a great deal, while Juanita listened\nand doubted; but Daisy did not doubt. She believed the doctor told her\ntrue. That the family to which her little fossil trilobite\nbelonged--the particular family--for they were generally related, he\nsaid to the lobster and crab, were found in the very oldest and deepest\ndown rocks in which any sort of remains of living things have been\nfound; therefore it is likely they were among the earliest of earth's\ninhabitants. There were a great many of them, the doctor said, and many\ndifferent species; for great numbers of them are found to this day in\nthose-particular rocks. The rocks must have been made at the time when\nthe trilobites lived, and have somehow shut them in. And the doctor\nthought it likely that at the time when they lived, there was no dry\nland in existence, but all covered by the sea. He would not take it upon\nhim to be positive; but this he could tell Daisy; there was never a\nstick or a leaf to be found in those old rocks that ever lived and grew\non dry ground, though there were plenty that grew in the sea, until in\nthe very topmost or latest of those rocks some few bits of fern growth\nbegan to appear.\n\n\"But what plants live under water?\" said Daisy.\n\n\"Sea weeds.\"\n\n\"Oh! So many of them?\"\n\n\"So many, that the rocks are sometimes darkened by their fossil remains,\nand in some places those remains form beds of coal several feet thick.\"\n\n\"And are there a great many remains of the trilobites?\"\n\n\"There are whole rocks, Daisy, that are formed almost entirely of\ntrilobites.\"\n\n\"Sea weeds and trilobites--what a strange time!\" said Daisy. \"Was that\nall that was living?\"\n\n\"No; there were other sea creatures of the lower kind, and at last\nfishes. But when the fishes became very numerous, the trilobites died\nout and passed away.\"\n\nThat old time had a wonderful charm for Daisy; it was, as she thought,\nbetter than a fairy tale. The doctor at last let her into the secret\nthat _he_ had a trilobite too; and the next time he came he brought it\nwith him. He was good enough to leave it with Daisy a whole day; and\nDaisy's meditations over it and her own together were numberless and\nprofound.\n\nThe next transition was somewhat sudden; to a wasp or two that had come\nforaging on Daisy's window-sill. But Dr. Sandford was at home there; and\nso explained the wasp's work and manner of life, with his structure and\nfitness for what he had to do, that Daisy was in utter delight; though\nher eyes sometimes opened upon Dr. Sandford with a grave wistful wonder\nin them, that he should know all this so well and yet never acknowledge\nthe hand that had given the wasp the tools and instinct for his work,\none so exactly a match for the other. But Dr. Sandford never did. He\nused to notice those grave looks of Daisy, and hold private speculation\nwith himself what they might mean; private amused speculation; but I\nthink he must have liked his little patient as well as been amused at\nher, or he would hardly have kept up as he did this personal ministering\nto her pleasure, which was one of the great entertainments of Daisy's\nlife at this period. In truth only to see Dr. Sandford was an\nentertainment to Daisy. She watched even the wave of his long locks of\nhair. He was a fascination to her.\n\n\"Are you in a hurry to get home?\" he would ask her every now and then.\nDaisy always said, \"No sir; not till you think it is time;\" and Dr.\nSandford never thought it was time. No matter what other people said,\nand they said a good deal; he ordered it his own way; and Daisy was\nalmost ready to walk when he gave permission for her to be taken home in\nthe carriage. However, the permission was given at last.\n\n\"To-morrow night I shall not be here, Juanita,\" Daisy remarked as she\nwas taking her supper.\n\n\"No, Miss Daisy.\"\n\n\"You will be very quiet when I am gone.\"\n\nIt had not been a bustling house, all those weeks! But the black woman\nonly answered,\n\n\"My love will come to see Juanita sometimes?\"\n\n\"O yes. I shall come very often, Juanita--if I can. You know when I am\nout with my pony, I can come very often,--I hope.\"\n\nJuanita quite well understood what was meant by the little pauses and\nqualifying clauses of this statement. She passed them over.\n\nBut Daisy shed a good many tears during Juanita's prayer that night. I\ndo not know if the black woman shed any; but I know that some time\nafterwards and until late in the night, she knelt again by Daisy's\nbedside, while a whisper of prayer, too soft to arouse the child's\nslumbers, just chimed with the flutter and rustle of the leaves outside\nof the window moving in the night breeze.\n\n[Illustration: THE DOCTOR'S TRILOBITE.]","title":"Melbourne House, Volume 1","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":85258}