"
Dr. Sandford did not say how much he was surprised; for Daisy looked as
meek as a lamb. But he was a philosopher, and interested.
"Then I am sure you have had reason, Daisy."
"I think I had," said Daisy, but without looking less sorrowful.
"Do you not consider that one has a right to be angry when one has a
reason?"
"But one shouldn't stay angry," said the child, folding her hands over
her heart.
"How are you going to help it, Daisy?"
"There is a way, Dr. Sandford."
"Is there? But you see I am in the dark now. I am as much abroad about
that, as you were about a journey of three hundred years to the sun.
When I am angry I never find that I can help it. I can maybe help using
my horsewhip; but I cannot manage the anger."
"No--" said Daisy, looking up at him, and thinking how terrible it must
be to have to encounter anger from his blue eye.
"What then, Daisy? how do you make out your position?"
Daisy did not very well like to say. She had a certain consciousness--or
fear--that it would not be understood, and she would be laughed at--not
openly, for Dr. Sandford was never impolite; but yet she shrunk from the
cold glance of unbelief, or of derision, however well and kindly masked.
She was silent.
"Haven't we got into a confidential position yet?" said the doctor.
"Yes, sir, but--"
"Speak on."
"Jesus will help us, Dr. Sandford, if we ask him." And tears, that were
tears of deep penitence now, rushed to Daisy's eyes.
"I do not believe, Daisy, to begin with, that you know what anger
means.
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