"How does their ill behaviour affect your pleasure, Daisy?"
"Papa--you know I have to play with them."
"Yes, I understand that. What do they do?"
"It isn't _they_, papa. It is only Alexander Fish--or at least it is he
most."
"What does _he_ do?"
"Papa--we are in a tableau together."
"Yes. You and he?"
"Yes, papa. And it is very disagreeable."
"Pray how, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, commanding his features with some
difficulty. "What is the tableau?"
"Papa, you know the story of Priscilla?"
"I do not think I do. What Priscilla?"
"Priscilla and John Alden. It is in a book of engravings."
"O!--the courtship of Miles Standish?"
"Miles Standish was his friend, papa."
"Yes, I know now. And are you Priscilla?"
"Yes, papa."
"And who is Miles Standish?"
"O, nobody; he is not in the picture; it is John Alden."
"I think I remember. Who is John Alden, then?"
"Papa, they have put Alexander Fish in, because he has long curling
hair; but I think Preston's hair would do a great deal better."
"Preston is under some obligation to the others, I suppose, because he
is manager. But how does Alexander Fish abuse his privileges?"
"Papa," said Daisy unwillingly,--"his face is turned away from the other
people, so that nobody can see it but me;--and he winks."
Daisy brought out the last word with an accession of gravity impossible
fully to describe. Mr. Randolph's mouth twitched; he bent his head down
upon Daisy's, that she might not see it.
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