The doctor's horse was before the door, and Daisy was on the piazza. The
doctor came out, ready for his day's work.
"Do you want me to do anything for you at Melbourne, Daisy?"
"Cannot I go home to-day, Dr. Sandford?"
"I do not know. Supposing that you be still kept in banishment--what
then?"
Daisy struggled with herself--succeeded, and spoke calmly.
"I should like to have Loupe sent, Dr. Sandford, if you please."
"Loupe? what is that? What is Loupe, Daisy?"
"My pony, sir. My pony chaise."
"Oh!--Not to drive to Melbourne?"
Daisy met the doctor's blue eye full, and answered with guileless
submission. "No, sir."
"I will send Loupe. By the way--Daisy, have you business on hand?"
"Yes, sir."
"So much that you can do none for me?"
"O no, sir. I have not a great deal of business. What may I do, Dr.
Sandford?"
"Can you go to Crum Elbow?"
"Yes, sir. I have got to go there."
"All right, then. Daisy, there is a poor family down by the railway
that were burnt out a night or two ago; they have lost everything. The
neighbours will have to supply them with a few things. Will you go to
the village and buy clothing for two little children, six and seven
years old? One is a girl, the other a boy."
The doctor took out his pocket-book and began to look over bank bills.
"Dresses, do you mean, Dr. Sandford?--and a boy's dress?"
"I mean, everything they need to put on--dresses and petticoats, and
jacket and trowsers, and a shirt or two for the boy. Here is money,
Daisy; spend whatever you find needful."
"But, Dr. Sandford--"
"Well?"
"I don't believe Mr. Lamb keeps those things ready made."
"I am sure he does not. Buy the stuff, Daisy--all the stuff--we will see
about getting it made afterwards. You can consult my sister, Mrs.
Sandford, about quantities and all that; or I dare say the storekeeper
can tell you."
So away went the doctor. Daisy felt in great need of consulting
somebody; but Mrs. Sandford was busy, and so engaged that there was no
chance for several hours. Not indeed before the pony chaise came; and
Daisy resolved then to wait no longer, but to do some other business
first.
The news that she eagerly asked for from Melbourne was not much when she
got it. Sam knew little; he believed Mr. Randolph was better, he said;
but his tone of voice was not very encouraging, and Daisy drove off to
Juanita's cottage. There was one person, she knew, who could feel with
her; and she went with a sort of eagerness up the grassy pathway from
the road to the cottage door, to get that sympathy.
Juanita was within, busy at some ironing. The work fell from her hands
and the iron was set down with an expression of pleasure as she saw
Daisy come in. The next minute her tone changed and her look.
"What ails my love?"
"Juanita--" said Daisy standing still and pale by the ironing table,
"--haven't you heard? Papa--"
"What, Miss Daisy?"
"Papa--he was knocked off his horse yesterday--_and they won't let me
see him!_"
So far Daisy's power of composure went, and no further. With that last
word her voice failed. She threw her arms around Juanita, and hiding her
face in her gown, burst into such tears as Daisy rarely shed at all;
very rarely under any one's observation. Juanita, very much startled,
sat down and drew the child into her arms, so far as she could; for
Daisy had sunk on her knees, and with her face in Juanita's lap was
weeping all her heart out. Mrs. Benoit hardly knew how to ask questions.
"Why must not Miss Daisy see her papa?"
"I don't know!--I suppose--he's not well enough."
Juanita breathed more freely.
"Let us pray for him, Miss Daisy."
"O yes, Juanita, do!--"
There was an intensity of meaning in these words and in Daisy's hurried
assuming of another place and posture to leave Juanita free to kneel
too, that almost took away the black woman's power of speech. She read
what was breaking the child's heart; she knew what for was that
suppressed cry of longing. For a moment Juanita was silent. But she had
long known not only trouble but the refuge from trouble; and to that
refuge she now went, and carried Daisy. As one goes who has often been
there; who has many a time proved it a sure refuge; who knows it sure
and safe and unfailing. So she prayed; while Daisy's sobs at first were
excessive, and then by degrees calmed and quieted and ceased. They were
quite still before Juanita finished; and when they rose up from their
knees Daisy's face was composed again. Then, she came and stood with her
hand on Juanita's shoulder, both of them silent; till Daisy put her lips
to the fine olive-dark cheek of the old woman and kissed it. Juanita
drew her into her arms, and Daisy sat there, nestling and tired.
"Can Miss Daisy trust the Lord?"
"Trust him,--how. Juanita?"
"That he do no harm to his little child?"
"O it isn't _me_, Juanita--" Daisy said with a very tender and sad
accent.
"When Joseph--my love knows the story--when he was sold away from his
father and home, to be servant of strangers far off--maybe he thought it
was hard times. But the Lord meant it for good, and the father and the
child came together again, in a happy day."
Daisy rose up, or rather raised her head, and looked steadily in her
friend's face as if to see what this might mean.
"The Lord knoweth them that trust in him," said the black woman.
Daisy's head went down again; and there was a long silence. It was
broken at last by Juanita's offering her some refreshment; and then
Daisy started up to the business on hand. She explained to Juanita where
she was staying, and what she had that morning to do. Meanwhile Juanita
made her take some bread and milk.
"So how much must I get, Juanita? can you tell me? how much for two
little frocks, and two little petticoats, and one suit of boy's
clothes?"
"My love knows, it must be accordin' to the stuff. If the stuff narrow,
she want more; if wide, she want less."
"Then you cannot tell me;--and Mrs. Sandford could not either. And I
cannot tell. What shall I do?"
"Mrs. Sandford maybe get the things for Miss Daisy."
"No, she must not. Dr. Sandford wants me to do it. I must get them,
Juanita."
"Hm! Suppose I put up my irons and walk round to the village--and Miss
Daisy go in her shay."
"To the store!" cried Daisy. "O yes, Juanita; get ready, and I will take
you with me. Then you can tell me all about it."
Juanita demurred and objected to this proposal, but Daisy was greatly
pleased and would have it so. Mrs. Benoit put up her ironing work, and
arrayed her head in a new clean bright handkerchief, wonderfully put on;
she was ready then; and Sam grinned to see the tall fine figure of the
old coloured woman sitting in the pony chaise by the side of his little
mistress. It was as good to Daisy as anything could have been that day.
They drove into Crum Elbow, went to the store; and there she and Juanita
had a pretty large morning's business in choosing the various goods Dr.
Sandford had desired Daisy to get. Daisy got excited over it. Calico for
a little frock, and muslin for the underclothes, and stuff for the boy's
jacket and trowsers and shirt; Juanita knew the quantities necessary,
and Daisy had only the trouble of choice and judgment of various kinds.
But that was a great responsibility, seeing she was doing it for Dr.
Sandford. It took a good while. Then Daisy drove Juanita home again,
gave her another kiss, and with her carriage load of dry goods and a
tired and hungry little body went home to Mrs. Sandford's.
It was then pretty late in the day, and the doctor not come in. Daisy
dressed, and went down to the drawing-room to wait for him. Not long
this time. There was a certain air of calm strength about Dr. Sandford's
face and cool blue eye, that Daisy loved; she felt she loved it now, as
she saw him come in; she trusted him. He spoke first to his brother and
sister; then came where Daisy was standing, sat down on the sofa and
placed her beside him.
"I have no bad news for you, Daisy," he said kindly,--"and not the good
news neither that you are looking for. Your father is no worse, though
it will require several days to let him recover from the immediate
effects of his accident. The quieter he is meanwhile the better."
"And mamma--she said--?"
"She said--yes, you have guessed it; she would like to have you remain
here for a few days longer. She thinks you are better under my care than
under hers."
"Under _my_ care, I think it is," said Mrs. Sandford.
"Can you bear it, Daisy?"
She looked up meekly and answered, "Yes, Dr. Sandford." So meekly that
the doctor's eye took special note of her.
"Have you been to Crum Elbow to-day?"
"Yes, sir. I got all the things."
"All of them?"
"Yes, sir."
"What reward shall I give you?"
She had been speaking with a sad meekness, a sober self restraint,
unlike her years. If Dr. Sandford meant to break it up, which I think he
did, he had partial success. Daisy looked up and smiled at him. But yet
it was a meek smile, and sad even in its composed denial of any notion
of reward. Not satisfactory to the doctor.
"I always repay anybody that does me any service," he went on.
"Ought one always to do that?" said Daisy.
"What is your judgment?"
"I think _everybody_ could not."
"Why not?"
"Some people have nothing to pay with,--for things that are done for
them."
"I do not believe that."
"_Some_ people, Dr. Sandford?"
"Whom do you know in that condition--for instance?"
"Why, I--for instance."
"You! What cannot you pay for?"
"A great many things," said Daisy slowly. "Hardly any thing. I am only a
child."
"How is it about Molly Skelton? Does she pay you for the various
attentions she receives from you?"
"Pay me, Dr. Sandford! I do not want pay."
"You are very unlike me, then," said the doctor; "that is all I have to
say."
"Why Dr. Sandford, what pay could she give me?"
"Don't you get any, then?"
"Why no, sir," said Daisy, eagerly answering the doctor's blue eye.
"Except--yes, of course, I get a sort of pay; but Molly does not--yes
she _does_ give it to me; but I mean, she does not mean to pay me."
The doctor smiled, one of those rare pleasant smiles, that shewed his
white teeth in a way that Daisy liked; it was only a glimmer.
"What sort of pay is that?--which she gives, and does not mean to give,
and you take and do not ask for?"
"O!--_that_ sort of pay!" said Daisy. "Is it _that_ sort you mean, Dr.
Sandford?"
"That is one sort."
"But I mean, is it the sort that you always give, you say?"
"Always, when people deserve it. And then, do you not think it is
natural to wish to give them, if you can, some other sort of pay?"
"I think it is," said Daisy sedately.
"I am glad you do not disapprove of it."
"But I do not think people _want_ that other kind of pay. Dr. Sandford."
"Perhaps not. I suppose it is a selfish gratification of oneself to give
it."
Daisy looked so earnestly and so curiously at him, as if to see what all
this was about, that the doctor must have had good command of his lips
not to smile again.
They went in to dinner just then and the conversation stopped. But
though not talked to, Daisy was looked after; and when she had forgotten
all about dinner and was thinking mournfully of what was going on at
home, a slice of roast beef or a nice peach would come on her plate with
a word from the doctor--"You are to eat that, Daisy"--and though he said
no more, somehow Daisy always chose to obey him. At last they went into
the drawing-room again and were drinking coffee. Daisy was somewhat
comforted; she thought Dr. Sandford did not act as if there were
anything very dreadful the matter at home.
"Daisy," said the doctor, "you have done work for me to-day--would you
object to be paid?"
Daisy looked up smiling; it depended on what the pay might be, she
thought; but she said nothing.
"Would it be violently against your principles?"
"I do not want pay, Dr. Sandford."
"Not if I were to offer to give you a sight of those little baskets on
the frond of the _Marchantia_?"
Daisy's face all changed; but she said in the quietest manner, "Can you
do that, Dr. Sandford?"
"Come with me."
He held out his hand, which Daisy willingly took, and they went up
stairs together. Just short of her room the doctor stopped, and turned
into his own. This was a very plain apartment; there was no beauty of
furniture, though it struck Daisy there was a great deal of something.
There were boxes, and cabinets, and shelves full of books and boxes, and
bookcases, and one or two tables. Yet it was not a pretty-looking room,
like the others in Mrs. Sandford's house. Daisy was a little
disappointed. The doctor however gave her a chair, and then brought one
of the unlikely deal boxes to the table and opened it. Daisy forgot
everything. There appeared a polished, very odd brass machine, which the
doctor took out and spent some time in adjusting. Daisy patiently looked
on.
"Do you know what this is, Daisy?"
"No, sir."
"It is a microscope. And looking through this, you will see what you
could not see with your two eyes alone; there are some strong magnifying
glasses here--and I found to-day some plants of Marchantia growing in a
sheltered place. Here is one of the baskets for you--"
"Is it on that bit of green leaf?"
"Yes, but you can see nothing there. Try this view."
[Illustration]
He stood back and helped Daisy to take a kneeling position in her chair,
so that her eye could reach the eye-piece of the microscope. Daisy
looked, took her eye away to give a wondering glance of inquiry at her
friend's face, and then applied it to the microscope again; a pink hue
of delight actually spreading over her poor little pale cheeks. It was
so beautiful, so wonderful. Again Daisy took her eye away to examine out
of the glass the coarse little bit of green leaf that lay upon the
stand; and looked back at the show in the microscope with a bewitched
mind. It seemed as if she could never weary of looking from one to the
other. The doctor bade her take her own time, and Daisy took a good
deal.
"What stuffs did you buy this morning?" the doctor asked. Daisy drew
back from the microscope.
"I got all you told me, sir?"
"Exactly. I forget what that was."
"I bought a little piece of red and green linsey-woolsey for a frock
for the little girl--and some brown strong stuff for the boy's suit; and
then white muslin to make things for the girl, and blue check for the
boy's shirt."
"Just right. Did your money hold out?"
"O I had three dollars and two shillings left, Dr. Sandford. Two
shillings and sixpence, I believe."
"You did well." The doctor was arranging something else in the
microscope. He had taken out the bit of liverwort.
"I had Juanita to help me," said Daisy.
"How do you suppose I am going to get all those things made up?" said
the doctor.
"Won't Mrs. Sandford attend to it?"
"Mrs. Sandford has her own contribution to attend to. I do not wish to
give her mine too."
"Cannot the children's mother make the things?"
The doctor's lip curled in funny fashion.
"They have no mother, I think. There is an old aunt, or grandmother, or
something, that does _not_ take care of the children. I shall not trust
the business certainly to her."
Daisy wondered a little that Mrs. Sandford, who was so good-natured,
could not do what was needful; but she said nothing.
"I think I shall turn over the whole thing in charge to you, Daisy?"
"But, Dr. Sandford, what can _I_ do?"
"Drive down with me to-morrow and see how big the children are, and then
have the things made."
"But I am afraid I do not know enough."
"I dare say you can find out. _I_ do not know enough--that is very
certain; and I have other things to attend to besides overseeing
mantua-makers."
"Our seamstress could do it,--if I could see her."
"Very well, then some other seamstress can. Now, Daisy--you may look at
this."
"What a beautiful thing! But what is it, Dr. Sandford?"
"What does it look like?"
"It does not look like anything that I ever saw."
"It is a scale from a butterfly's wing."
"Why, it is as large as a small butterfly," said Daisy.
The doctor shewed her where the little scale lay, so little that she
could hardly see it out of the glass; and Daisy went back to the
contemplation of its magnified beauty with immense admiration. Then her
friend let her see the eye of a bee, and the tongue of a fly, and divers
other wonders, which kept Daisy busy until an hour which was late for
her. Busy and delightfully amused.