Had such a child and such a
book anything to do with each other, Mr. Randolph thought? But Daisy
presently found her place, and looking up at him drew a little back that
her father might see it. He stooped over Daisy and read,
"_In everything give thanks_."
"Do you see it, papa?"
"Yes."
"Then here is another place--I know where to find it--"
She turned over more leaves, stopped again, and Mr. Randolph stooped and
read,--
"Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name
of our Lord Jesus Christ."
Mr. Randolph read, and went and threw himself on his sofa again. Daisy
came beside him. A wistful earnestness in the one face; a careless sort
of embarrassment on the other.
"You are led astray, little Daisy, by a common mistake of ignorant
readers. You fancy that these words are to be taken literally--whereas
they mean simply that we should cultivate a thankful spirit. That, of
course, I agree to."
"But, papa," said Daisy, "is a thankful spirit the same thing quite as
giving thanks?"
"It is a much better thing, Daisy, in my opinion."
"But, papa, would not a thankful spirit like to _give_ thanks?"
"I have no objection, Daisy."
The tears came into Daisy's eyes. Her mother _had_.
"Papa--"
"Well? Let us get to the end of this difficulty if we can."
"I am afraid we cannot, papa. Because if you had told me to do a thing
so, you would mean it just so, and I should do it."
Mr. Randolph wrapped his arms round Daisy and brought her close to his
breast.
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