It was some time first, and the rain still did not fall. It was very
black, and flashes from distant lightning with mutterings of the thunder
were frequent and threatening; still no rain unless a few ominous drops.
At last voices and fluttering muslins came down the road; the flutter
came near, and in poured a stream of gay people at the door of the poor
little room. Gay as to their dress and attire, that is; for gayety was
not to be found at present in their words and behaviour. The woman in
the chimney corner hugged up closer her dirty baby with the delight of
so unwonted a feast to her eyes.
"Is there nothing better than _this_ to be had?" said Mrs. Fish. And her
tone was indescribable.
"How long have we got to remain here, doctor?" said a more cheery voice.
"Mrs. Stanfield, until the rain has come, and gone."
"It would be better to be out in it," whispered Theresa to her mother.
"My love, there is no other shelter on this side the river."
"There will not be standing room for us all presently--" said Eloïse
Gary.
Pretty nearly so; for when the second detachment of the party arrived,
in a minute more, people looked at each other across a throng of heads.
They got in; that was all. To sit down or to move much was out of the
question.
"Daisy, you can't have this big chair of yours in here," said Ransom in
an energetic whisper. "Don't you see there is no room for it?"
Daisy saw there was very little. She got up patiently and stood, though
feeling very tired; while her chair was got out of the door with a good
deal of difficulty.
"Are you tired, my darling?" said her father bending down to the pale
little face.
"A little, papa," said Daisy sighing.
No more words, but Mr. Randolph lifted Daisy in his arms and gave her a
resting place there. Daisy was afraid she was too heavy for him, but it
was very comfortable to sit there, with her arm on his shoulder. Her
face looked its content; the only face in which such an expression could
be seen at present; though the gentlemen took the thing coolly, and Mr.
Randolph and the two Sandfords looked as usual. But now the delayed
storm drew near. The thunder notified with every burst the fact that it
was coming speedily; the lightning became vivid and constant. A
premonitory sweep of the wind--and the clouds gave out their treasures
of rain and hail with tremendous fury. The lightning was terrible now,
and the darkness of the intervals between so great that the company
could scarcely see each other's faces. This was more than some of the
party had bargained for, and there was a degree of confusion. Screams
from a few of the ladies and exclamations of terror from others were
mixed now and then with words that sounded very like an oath to Daisy's
ear, though they were not spoken in levity. She bent her head round to
look in the face of the lady who had last used them, as if to assure
herself what was meant; and then her head went down on Mr. Randolph's
shoulder and her face was hidden.
"Daisy--" whispered her father.
"Yes, papa."
"Are you afraid?"
"No, papa--not for myself."
"What? Look up here, Daisy."
She lifted her face; it was wistful and troubled.
"Are you concerned about the storm, my darling?"
"No, papa; not myself."
"How then, Daisy?"
She shuddered. "Papa, I wish they would not scream so!"
"Why does that trouble _you_?" said Mr. Randolph smiling.
But Daisy's face was unutterably grave, as a new brilliant band of
forked lightning glittered outside the windows, and the burst of the
thunderbolt sounded as if at their very feet, making a renewal of the
same cries and exclamations.
"Why does it trouble you, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph soothingly, feeling
the quiver of the child's frame.
"Papa," said Daisy with intense expression,--"they do not love
Jesus!"--And her head went down again to be hid on her father's
shoulder.
Mr. Randolph did nothing to bring it up again; and Daisy lay quite
still, while the storm raged in full fury, and the screams and
ejaculations of the ladies were joined now and then by a word of
impatience from one of the gentlemen, or a "Hech, sirs!" in Logan's
smothered Scotch brogue. Once Mr. Randolph felt Daisy's lips pressed
against his face, and then her other arm came round his neck and
nestling there closely she was after that as still as a mouse. The storm
lasted a long time. The lightning and thunder at last removed their
violence some distance off; then the wind and the rain did their part,
which they had not fully done before. And all the while the poor party
of pleasure sat or stood as thick as bees in a hive, in the miserable
shelter of the cottage. Miserable yet welcome. Very tired and impatient
the people became as they grew less frightened. Daisy had long been fast
asleep. The day waned and drew near its ending. When sunset was, nobody
could tell by the light; but that night was at hand was at last evident
from the darkness.
"Your arms must be weary, Mr. Randolph," said Dr. Sandford. "Let me
relieve you of your burden."
"I cannot let you do that."
"I will," said the doctor. "Daisy being my charge as well as yours,
gives me a right." And the transfer was actually made before Daisy was
aware of it. She waked up however, with a feeling of some change and a
doubt upon her mind as to what custody she was in; but she was not sure,
till the woman of the house lit a miserable dip candle, which threw a
light that mocked the darkness over the weary company. Daisy did not
like the arrangement at all.
"Dr. Sandford!" she exclaimed. "I shall tire you. Please put me on the
floor and let me stand."
"No--you cannot," said the doctor decidedly. "Be a good child, Daisy.
Lay your head down and go to sleep again."
And greatly to Daisy's astonishment the doctor's moustache brushed her
lip. Now Daisy had always thought to herself that she would never allow
anybody that wore a moustache to kiss her; here it was done, without
leave asked; and if the doctor was so independent of rules as that, she
thought she had best not provoke him. Besides, she remembered that her
father must be tired with carrying her so long; and moreover, if Dr.
Sandford liked her well enough to kiss her, maybe he would not care for
the trouble of holding her for a while. At any rate Daisy submitted
peaceably to the necessity; put her arm over the doctor's shoulder to
support herself and laid her head down; though not to sleep. She watched
everything that was going on now. What a roomful of weary and impatient
people they were! packed like cattle in a pen, for closeness; and how
the rain poured and beat outside the house! The shelter was something to
be thankful for, and yet how unthankful everybody looked. Some of the
gentlemen shewed calm fortitude under their trials; but the poor ladies'
chagrined faces said that days of pleasure were misnamed. Alexander Fish
had gone to sleep; Ransom looked cross; Preston as usual gentlemanly,
though bored. From one to another Daisy's eye roved. Nora and Ella were
sitting on the table; in full confab. Other people were sitting there
too; the table was full.
"The storm is slackening--" Mr. Randolph remarked to the doctor.
"It will be over in a little while more."
"What do you think of it, Daisy?" said her father noticing her look.
"Of what, papa?"
"Parties of pleasure in general."
"Papa,--I have had a very nice time."
"You have had a nice sleep," said her father laughing; "and that colours
your views of things. The rest of us have not had that advantage."
"Daisy, I am surprised to hear you say what you do," the doctor remarked
as Mr. Randolph turned away. He spoke softly.
"Why, sir?"
"I thought your day had not been altogether agreeable?"
"Do you think anything is apt to be _altogether_ agreeable, Dr.
Sandford?" Daisy said, with a demure waiving of the subject which was
worthy of much older years. The quaintness of this remark was infinite.
"What has been the agreeableness to-day, for instance?"
"O, a great deal; my ride in the chair,--that was nice! and all _our_
walk, and what you were telling me; and coming over the river--" Daisy
paused.
"And what do you think of being carried in the arms of gentlemen," said
Mrs. Gary, who had overheard a few words,--"while other little girls
have to get along as they can? as tired as you are, I dare say."
"I cannot help it, aunt Gary," said Daisy. But the remark served to
justify her view of things; for what had in truth been altogether
agreeable up to that minute was so no longer. Daisy was uneasy.
"Dr. Sandford," she whispered after a few moments,--"I am rested--I can
stand now. I am tiring you. Please set me down."
"No. Be quiet, Daisy," said her friend peremptorily. And as the little
head went down again obediently on his shoulder, he gave again a gentle
kiss to her lips. Daisy did not mind Mrs. Gary after that.
The storm slackened off now rapidly. The patter of the rain lessened and
grew still; a sweet reviving air blew in at the windows. Of course the
road was drenched with wet and every tree dripping; nevertheless the
journey must be made to the boats, and the poor ladies were even glad to
set out to undertake it. But it would not be an easy journey either, on
the whole. Some time before this the doctor had despatched Logan on an
errand. He now declared he must wait for his return; and desired Mr.
Randolph to go forward and help take care of the rest of the party and
have no concern about Daisy; he would keep her in charge.
"Shall I do that, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, fearing it might trouble
her. But Daisy said, "Yes, papa"--with no hesitation; and the plan was
acted upon. Gathering up their floating muslin dresses, tying
handkerchiefs over their heads, with shrinking and yet eager steps, one
by one they filed out at the door of the little hut. Just as the last
one went, Logan came; he had been to the boats and brought thence the
doctor's cloak, which, with more providence than the rest of the party
who were less used to travelling, he had taken the precaution to bring.
Now this, by the doctor's order, was spread over Daisy's chair, which
having been pushed out of doors, had got wet; she was placed in it
then, and the folds of the cloak brought well round and over her, so
that nothing could be more secure than she was from the wet with which
every leaf and bough was dripping overhead, and every foot of soil
loaded underneath. Dr. Sandford took one end of the poles and Logan the
other, and the last of the party they set forth. Why Dr. Sandford had
made this arrangement, was best known to himself. Perhaps he preferred
it to having Mrs. Fish on his arm, who was a very fine lady; perhaps he
preferred it to the attentions he might have had to pay to the younger
damsels of the party, who would all three have been on his hands at
once, very likely. At all events he did prefer to be one of the
chair-bearers, and Daisy was very glad of it.
The rest of the party were well in advance, out of sight and hearing.
Tramp, tramp, the steady regular footfall of her bearers, and the light
plashing of rain drops as they fell, and the stir of the wind in the
leaves, were all the sounds that Daisy heard. No rain fell now; on the
contrary the heaven was clear as a bell, and light enough came through
the woods to shew the way with comfortable certainty. Overhead the stars
were shining down with wonderful brilliancy, through the air which the
storm had cleansed from all vapours; the moon was coming up somewhere,
too. The smell of the trees and other green things was exceedingly sweet
after the rain; and the delicious soft air was very delicious after the
sultry day. Never in her life after did Daisy forget that night's work.
This ride from the cottage to the shore was something she enjoyed with
all her might. It was so wild and strange as well as sweet. Rocks and
tree trunks, and the turnings of the road had all such a mysterious new
look, different from what daylight shewed them; it was an endless
pleasure. Till the walk ended. It came out at last upon the shore of the
river and into the moonlight. High in the eastern sky the moon hung,
shedding her broad light down all over the river which crisped and
sparkled under it; and there by the water's edge the members of the
party of pleasure were huddled together preparing to embark. Over their
heads the sails of Mr. Randolph's boat stood up in the moonlight. The
doctor and Logan set down their burden and waited. The Fish's were
getting on board their little vessel, which was moved by oars alone.
"Mrs. Stanfield, you had better come with us," Mr. Randolph said. "There
is plenty of room. Your boat is too small. You would find it
unpleasantly rough in mid-channel."
"O, is it rough?" exclaimed the lady.
"For your little row-boat--I am afraid you would find it so. The wind
has roughened the water considerably, and it has not had time to get
quiet. Come with us, and we will all take supper together at Melbourne."
It was arranged so. The party were stowed away in the large sail-boat,
which held them all well enough; the children being happy at finding
themselves seated together.
"What are we waiting for?" said Mrs. Gary when all had been in their
places some minutes, and conversation was the only thing moving. "What
are we staying here for?"
"Sam."
"Where's Sam?"
"He is yonder--in our late place of shelter. James and Michael have gone
to fetch him with Daisy's chair."
"Sam! Why, he might have stayed there till to-morrow and no hurt. Have
we got to wait till the men go there and bring him back? We shall be
late at supper!"
"The river will be all the quieter, Mrs. Gary," said Mr. Randolph
mischievously.
"The river? You don't mean to say it is not quiet?"
"It was not, quiet a while ago, I assure you."
"Well, I do think, if ever there was a misnamed thing, it is a party of
pleasure," said the lady disconsolately.
"They are very pleasant when they are over, sister Gary," said Mr.
Randolph.
"Daisy," Nora whispered, "are you afraid?"
"No."
"Your father says it is rough."
"He knows how to manage the boat," said Daisy.
"It isn't rough, I don't believe," said Ella Stanfield. "It isn't rough
now."
"I wish we were at the other side," said Nora.
"O Nora, I think it is nice," said Daisy. "How bright the moonlight is!
Look--all over the river there is a broad strip. I hope we shall sail
along just in that strip. Isn't it wonderful, Nora?"
"No. What?" said Nora.
"That there should be something like a looking-glass up in the sky to
catch the sunlight and reflect it down to us when we cannot see the sun
itself."
"What looking-glass?"
"Well, the moon catches the sunlight just so, as a looking glass would."
"How do you know, Daisy? _I_ think it shines."
"I know because I have been told. It does not shine, any more than a
looking-glass."
"Who told you?"
"Dr. Sandford," Daisy whispered.
"Did he! Then why don't we have the moon every night?"
"Because the looking-glass, if you can imagine that it is a
looking-glass, does not always hang where it can catch the sun."
"Don't it? I don't like to think it is a looking-glass," said Nora. "I
would a great deal rather think it is the moon."
"Well, so it is," said Daisy. "You can think so."
"Daisy, what should we do if it should be rough in the middle of the
river?"
"_I_ like it," said Ella Stanfield.
"Perhaps it will not be very rough," said Daisy.
"But suppose it should? And where the moon don't shine it is so dark!"
"Nora," said Daisy very low, "don't you love Jesus?"
Nora at that flounced round, and turning her face from Daisy and the
moonlight, began to talk to Ella Stanfield on the other side of her.
Daisy did not understand what it meant.
All this while, and a good while longer, the rest of the people were
waiting with various degrees of patience and impatience for the coming
of Sam and the men. It was pretty there by the shore, if they had not
been impatient. The evening breeze was exceedingly fragrant and fresh;
the light which streamed down from the moon was sparkling on all the
surface of the water, and laid a broad band of illumination like a
causeway across the river. In one or two places the light shewed the
sails of a sloop or schooner on her way up or down; and along the shore
it grew daintily hazy and soft. But impatience was nevertheless the
prominent feeling on board the sail-boat; and it had good time to
display itself before Michael and James could go all the distance back
to the house and bring Sam away from it.
"Here he is!" "There they are at last!"--were the words of hail with
which their appearance was greeted. "Now off"--and with all haste the
three were received on board and the vessel pushed out into the stream.
Immediately her sail caught the breeze which came fair down the river,
and careening a little as she took it, her head began to make good speed
across the causeway of moonlight. But then the ladies began to scream;
for in mid-channel the wind was fresh and the waters had not quite
forgotten yet the tumult of the late storm, which had tossed them well.
The sail-boat danced bravely, up and down, going across the waves. Among
the frightened people was Nora, who grasping Daisy's dress with one
hand and some part of the boat with the other, kept uttering little
cries of "Oh Daisy"--"Oh! Daisy"--with every fresh lurch of the vessel.
Ella Stanfield had thrown herself down in her mother's lap. Daisy was
very much tried.
"Nora," she said, "I wish you would not cry so!"
"But I am afraid!"
"I wish you would be comforted, and not cry out so," sighed Daisy. "Papa
says there is no danger--didn't you hear him?"
"But oh, I am afraid!" re-echoed Nora.
Daisy folded her hands and tried to bide patiently the time of smooth
water. It came, partially at least, as they neared the opposite bank.
The boat went steadily; spirits revived; and soon the passage was
brought to an end and the sail-boat laid alongside the little jetty, on
which the party, men, women and children, stepped out with as sincere a
feeling of pleasure as had moved them all day. Carriages were in
waiting; a few minutes brought the whole company to Melbourne House.
Here they were to stay supper; and the ladies and gentlemen dispersed to
various dressing rooms to prepare for it. Soonest of all ready and in
the drawing room were the three children.
"I am so hungry!" said Nora.
"So am I!" said Ella Stanfield.
"We shall have supper presently," said Daisy.
"O Daisy, weren't you afraid in the boat, when it went up and down so?"
"I do not think I was afraid," said Daisy, "if other people had not been
so disturbed."
"I don't see how they could help being disturbed," said Ella Stanfield.
"Why the boat didn't sail straight at all."
"But _that_ does not do any harm," said Daisy.
"How do you know?" said Nora. "_I_ think it does harm; I do not think it
is safe."
"But you know, Nora, when the disciples were in the boat, and thought it
was not safe--the wind blew so, you know--they ought to have trusted
Jesus and not been afraid."
Nora and Ella both looked at Daisy for a minute after this speech, and
then by some train of association Nora started another subject.
"Daisy, have you got my Egyptian spoon yet?"
Now was Daisy in a great difficulty. She flushed; the little face which
had been pale enough before, became of a delicate pink hue all over. Not
knowing what to say she said nothing.
"Have you got it yet?" repeated Nora curiously.
"No, Nora. I have not."
"You have _not_? What have you done with it?"
"Nothing."
"My Egyptian spoon! that Marmaduke gave me to give to you! You have not
kept it! What did you do with it, Daisy?"
"I did nothing with it."
"Did you break it?"
"No."
"Did you give it away?"
"O Nora, I loved it very much," said poor Daisy; "but I could not keep
it. I could not!"
"Why couldn't you? I would not have given it to you, Daisy, if I had
thought you would not have kept it."
"I wanted to keep it very much--but I could not," said Daisy with the
tears in her eyes.
"Why 'could not'? why couldn't you? did you give it away, Daisy? that
spoon I gave you?"
"Nora, I could not help it! Somebody else wanted it very much, and I was
obliged to let her have it. I could not help it."
"I shall tell Marmaduke that you did not care for it," said Nora in an
offended tone. "I wish I had kept it myself. It was a beautiful spoon."
Daisy looked very much troubled.
"Who has got it?" Nora went on.
"It is no matter who has got it," said Daisy. "I couldn't keep it."
"She is right, Nora," said Preston, who came up just then, at the same
time with the doctor. "She could not keep it, because it was taken away
from her without any leave asked. I mean she shall have it back, too,
one of these days. Don't you say another word to Daisy!--she has behaved
like a little angel about it."
Preston's manner made an impression, as well as his words. Nora was
checked.
"What is all that, Nora?" the doctor asked.
Now Nora had a great awe of him. She did not dare not answer.
"It is about a spoon I gave Daisy, that she gave away."
"She did not, I tell you!" said Preston.
"A spoon?" said the doctor. "Silver?"
"O no! A beautiful, old, very old, carved, queer old spoon, with a
duck's bill, that came out of an old Egyptian tomb, and was put there
ever so long ago."
"Did your brother give it to you?"
"Yes, to give to Daisy, and she gave it to somebody else."
"Nora, I did not give it as you think I did. I loved it very much. I
would not have let anybody have it if I could have helped it."
"Who has got it, Daisy?" asked the doctor.
Daisy looked at him, looked perplexed, flushed a little, finally said
with demure gentleness, "Dr. Sandford, I think I ought not to tell."
The doctor smiled, took Daisy's hand, and led her off to the supper
room, whither they were now invited. So it happened that her seat at the
table was again by his side. Daisy liked it. Just then she did not care
about being with Nora.
The people gathered, bright and fresh, around the supper table, all
seeming to have forgotten their fatigues and frights; and every face
looked smiling or gracious. The day was over, the river was crossed; the
people were hungry; and the most dainty and perfectly arranged supply of
refreshments stood on the board. Coffee and tea steamed out their
grateful announcements; ice cream stood in red and white pyramids of
firmness; oysters and cold meats and lobster salad offered all that
hungry people could desire; and everybody was in a peculiar state of
gratified content and expectation. Daisy was no exception. She had let
slip her momentary trouble about the Egyptian spoon; and in her quiet
corner, quite unnoticed as she thought, looked at the bright scene and
enjoyed it. She liked being under the doctor's care too, and his care of
her was very thoughtful and kind. He did not forget the little quiet
mouse at his elbow; but after he had properly attended to the other
people whose claims came first, he served her nicely with whatever was
good for her. Was Daisy going to omit her usual giving of thanks? She
thought of her mother's interference with a moment's flash of hesitancy;
but resolved to go on just as usual. She did not think she would be
noticed, everybody was so busy; and at any rate there was a burden of
gladness in her little heart that must speak. While the talking and
laughing and click of knives and forks was thick all around her, Daisy's
little head bent in a moment's oblivion of it all behind her hand.
She had raised her head and just taken her fork in her fingers when she
heard her own name. She looked up.
"Daisy--" said her mother quietly--"come here."
Daisy left her seat and went round to her mother's side.
"You may go up stairs," said Mrs. Randolph.
"Mamma?"--
"Go--and remain till I send for you."
Daisy slipped away quietly, before anybody could notice that she was
gone or going. Then slowly went up the stairs and along the passages to
her own room. It was empty and dark, except for the moonlight without;
June had not expected her to be there, and had not made preparation.
Daisy went and kneeled down in her old place by her window; her eyes
filled as full of tears as they could hold. She bent her little head to
brush them away, but they came again. Daisy was faint and tired; she
wanted her supper very much; and she had enjoyed the supper-table very
much; it was a great mortification to exchange it for the gloom and
silence of her moonlit room. She had not a bit of strength to keep her
spirits up. Daisy felt weak. And what was the matter? Only--that she
had, against her mother's pleasure, repeated her acknowledgment of the
hand that had given her all good things. How many good things that day!
And was she not to make such acknowledgment any more? Ought she to
please her mother in this? Had she really done wrong? Daisy could not
tell; she thought not; she could not wish she had not done what she did;
but at the same time it was very miserable to have Mrs. Randolph at odds
with her on such a point as this.
Daisy shed some tears about it; yet not a great many, and without the
least bitterness in them. But she felt faint and tired and disappointed.
Here, however, at her own room window, and alone, there was no bar to
thanksgivings; and Daisy had them in her heart, as well as prayers for
the people who had them not. She was too tired to pray at last; she only
knelt at the window with her arms on the sill, (Daisy was raised up on
an ottoman) and looked out at the moonlight, feeling as if she was going
into a dream.
"Miss Daisy!"--said the smothered voice of June behind her--"are you
there, Miss Daisy?"
June's accent was doubtful and startled. Daisy turned round.
"Miss Daisy!--I thought you was in the supper-room."
"No, June--I'm here."
"Will you go to bed, Miss Daisy?"
"I wish, June, you would get me something to eat, first," said Daisy
languidly.
"Didn't you get your supper, Miss Daisy?"
"No, and I'm hungry. I haven't had anything since the dinner at the
lake. I wish you'd make haste, June."
June knew from Daisy's way of speaking, as well as from the facts of the
case, that there was some trouble on foot. She went off to get supper,
and as she went along the passages the mulatto woman's hand was clenched
upon itself, though her face shewed only its usual wrinkles.
Small delay was there before she was back again, and with her June had
brought a supply of very nearly everything there had been on the
supper-table. She set down her tray, prepared a table for Daisy, and
placed a chair. The room was light now with two wax candles. Daisy sat
down and took a review.
"What will you have now, Miss Daisy? here's some hot oysters--nice and
hot. I'll get you some ice cream when you're ready to eat it--Hiram's
got it in the freezer for you. Make haste, Miss Daisy--these oysters is
good."
But Daisy did not make haste. She looked at the supper tray
thoughtfully.
"June," she said with a very gentle pure glance of her eyes up at the
mulatto woman's face--"I am very much obliged to you--but I don't think
mamma means me to eat these things to-night--Will you just get me some
milk and some bread? I'll take some bread and milk!"
"Miss Daisy, these oysters is good for you," said June.
"I'll take some bread and milk to-night--if you will please make haste.
Thank you, June."
"Miss Daisy--then maybe take a sandwich."
"No--I will have nothing but bread and milk. Only quick, June."
June went off for the bread and milk, and then very unwillingly carried
her supper-tray down stairs again. Going through one of the passages she
was met by her master.
"Where is that coming from, June?" he asked her in surprise.
"From Miss Daisy's room, sir."
"Has she been taking supper up there?"
"No, sir--Miss Daisy wouldn't touch nothing."
"Is she unwell?" Mr. Randolph asked in a startled tone.
"No, sir." June's tone was dry. Mr. Randolph marched at once to the room
in question, where Daisy was eating her bread and milk.
"What are you doing, Daisy?"
"Papa!"--said the child with a start; and then quietly--"I am taking my
supper."
"Were you not at the table down stairs?"
"Yes, papa."
"How came you not to have your supper there?"
"I had to come away, papa."
"Are you not well, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph tenderly, bending down over
her chair.
"Yes, papa--quite well."
"Then why did you come away?"
Daisy's spoon lay still in her fingers and her eyes reddened.
"Mamma sent me."
If the child was to have any supper at all, Mr. Randolph saw, he must
forbear his questioning. He rose up from leaning over her chair.
"Go on, Daisy--" he said; and he left her, but did not leave the room.
He walked up and down the floor at a little distance, while Daisy
finished her bread and milk She was too much in want of it not to do
that. When it was done she got out of her chair and stood on the floor
looking at her father, as gentle as a young sparrow. He came and wheeled
her chair round and sat down upon it.
"What is the matter, Daisy?"
"Mamma was displeased with me." The child dropped her eyes.
"What about?"
"Papa"--said Daisy slowly, trying for words and perhaps also for
self-command--"mamma was displeased with me because--I--"
"What?"
"Papa--because I did what she did not like at dinner."
"At dinner? what was that?"
The child lifted her eyes now to her father's face, a little wistfully.
"Papa--don't you know?--I was only praying a minute."
Mr. Randolph stretched out his arm, drew Daisy up to him, placed her on
his knee, and looked down into her face.
"Did you have no supper down stairs?"
"No, sir."
"Do you like bread and milk better than other things?"
"No, papa."
"I met June with a great tray of supper things, and she said you would
not eat them. Why was that?"
"Papa," said Daisy, "I thought mamma did not mean me to have those
things to-night."
"She did not forbid you?"
"No, papa."
Mr. Randolph's arm was round Daisy; now he wrapped both arms about her,
bringing her up close to his breast, and putting down his lips to her
face, he kissed her over and over, with a great tenderness.
"Have you had a pleasant day?"
"Papa, I have had a great many pleasant things," said Daisy eagerly. Her
voice had changed and a glad tone had come into it.
"Dr. Sandford took proper care of you?"
"Papa, he is _very_ good!" said Daisy strongly.
"I rather think he thinks you are."
"He is nice, papa."
"Nice--" said Mr. Randolph. "He is pretty well. But now, Daisy, what do
you think of going to bed and to sleep?"
"Yes, papa."
"And to-morrow, if you have got into any difficulty, you may come to me
and talk about it."
Daisy returned a very earnest caress to her father's good night kiss,
and afterwards had no difficulty in doing as he had said. And so ended
the day on Silver Lake.