"Look here, Daisy," said he--"tell me. Do you really try to give
thanks everywhere, and for all things, as the word says?"
"I do not _try_, papa--I like to do it."
"Do you give thanks for _everything_?"
"I think I do, papa; for everything that gives me pleasure."
"For Mrs. Sandford's invitation to-day, for instance?"
"O yes, papa," said Daisy smiling.
He brought the little head down within reach of his lips and kissed it a
good many times.
"I wish my little Daisy would not think so much."
"I think only to know what is right to do, papa."
"It is right to mind mamma and me, and let us think for you."
"And the Bible, papa?"
"You are quite growing an old woman a good while before the time."
Daisy kissed him with good child-like kisses, laying her little head in
his neck and clasping her arms around him; for all that, her heart was
busy yet.
"Papa," she said, "what do you think is right for me to do?"
"Thinking exhausts me, Daisy. It is too hot to-day for such an
exercise."
Daisy drew back and looked at him, with one hand resting on his
shoulder. She did not dare urge any more in words; her look spoke her
anxious, disappointed questioning of her father's meaning. Perhaps he
did not care to meet such a gaze of inquiry, for he pulled her down
again in his arms.
"I do not want you to be an old woman."
"But, papa--that is not the thing."
"I will not have it, Daisy."
"Papa," she said with a small laugh, "what shall I do to help it? I do
not know how I came to be an old woman.
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