The other
little hand came for a moment across her brows and rested there; but she
would not cry; her lip did not even tremble.
"First let me understand," said her father; and he lifted Daisy on his
knee kindly. "Daisy, I never saw you uncivil before."
"Papa, I am very sorry--" said the child.
"Can you explain it?"
"Papa, I would have been civil if I could; but I had nothing to say."
"That is the very place where a person of good manners shews himself
different from a person who has no manners at all. Good manners finds
something to say."
"But, papa, there was nothing _true_."
"The doll gave you no pleasure?"
"No, papa," said Daisy low.
"And you felt no obligation for the thoughtfulness and kindness of your
aunt in getting for you so elegant a present?"
Daisy hesitated and flushed.
"Daisy, answer," said her father gravely.
"No, papa,"--Daisy said low as before.
"Why not?"
"Papa," said Daisy with a good deal of difficulty and hesitation--"that
is all passed--I do not want to say anything more about it."
"About what?"
"About--papa, I do not think mamma would like to have me talk about it."
"Go on, Daisy.--About what?"
"All that trouble we had, papa."
"What I want to know is, why you did not feel grateful for your aunt's
kindness just now, which she had been at some pains to shew you."
"Papa," said Daisy wistfully,--"it was not kindness--it was pay; and I
did not want pay."
"Pay? For what?"
"For my Egyptian spoon, papa.
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