She stood silent by his sofa, one little
hand resting fondly on his shoulder, but profoundly quiet. Then she
remembered that she had something else to talk about.
"Papa--" she said wheeling round a little to face him.
"Well, Daisy?"
"Do you feel like talking?"
"Hardly--it is so hot," said Mr. Randolph. "Set open that sash door a
little more, Daisy. Now come here. What is it?"
"Shall I wait till another time, papa?"
"No."
He had passed an arm round her, and she stood as before with one hand
resting on his shoulder.
"Papa--it was about--what last night you said I might talk to you
about."
"I remember. Go on, Daisy."
"Papa," said the child, a little in doubt how to go on--"I want to do
what is right."
"There is generally little difficulty in doing that, Daisy."
Daisy thought otherwise!
"Papa, I think mamma does not like me to do what I think is right," she
said very low and humbly.
"Your mother is the best judge, Daisy. What are you talking about?"
"_That_, papa--that you said I might talk to you about."
"What is it? Let us understand one another clearly."
"About--It was only that I liked to pray and give thanks a minute at
meal times." Daisy spoke very softly and as if she would fain not have
spoken.
"That is a mere indifferent ceremony, Daisy, which some people perform.
It is not binding on you, certainly, if your mother has any objection to
your doing it."
"But, papa,"--Daisy began eagerly and then checked herself, and went on
slowly--"you would not like it if you were to give me anything, and I
should not thank you?"
"Cases are not parallel, Daisy.
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