"What were you doing, down there in the dirt?"
"Preston, if you please, I cannot talk to you nicely while you are so
high and I am so low."
Preston was certainly at some height above Daisy, being mounted up in
his saddle on a pretty high horse, while the pony chaise was hung very
near the ground. He had been beside her; but at her last words he
laughed and set off at a good pace in advance, leaving the chaise to
come along in Loupe's manner. Daisy drove contentedly home through the
afternoon sunlight, which laid bands of brightness across her road all
the way home. They seemed bands of joy to Daisy.
Preston had gallopped ahead and was at the door ready to meet her. "What
kept you so long at that dismal place?" he asked as he handed her out of
the chaise.
"You were back very soon from the Fish place, I think," said Daisy.
"Yes--Alexander was not at home; there was no use in my staying. But
what were you doing all that while, Daisy?"
"It was not so very long," said Daisy. "I did not think it was a long
time. You must have deceived yourself."
"But do you not mean to tell me what you were about? What _could_ you
do, at such a place?"
Daisy stood on the piazza, in all the light of the afternoon sunbeams,
looking and feeling puzzled. How much was it worth while to try to tell
Preston of her thoughts and wishes?
"What was the attraction, Daisy? only tell me that. Dirt and ignorance
and rudeness and disorder--and you contented to be in the midst of it!
Down in the dirt! What was the attraction?"
"She is very unhappy, Preston.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195