"Except--yes, of course, I get a sort of pay; but Molly does not--yes
she _does_ give it to me; but I mean, she does not mean to pay me."
The doctor smiled, one of those rare pleasant smiles, that shewed his
white teeth in a way that Daisy liked; it was only a glimmer.
"What sort of pay is that?--which she gives, and does not mean to give,
and you take and do not ask for?"
"O!--_that_ sort of pay!" said Daisy. "Is it _that_ sort you mean, Dr.
Sandford?"
"That is one sort."
"But I mean, is it the sort that you always give, you say?"
"Always, when people deserve it. And then, do you not think it is
natural to wish to give them, if you can, some other sort of pay?"
"I think it is," said Daisy sedately.
"I am glad you do not disapprove of it."
"But I do not think people _want_ that other kind of pay. Dr. Sandford."
"Perhaps not. I suppose it is a selfish gratification of oneself to give
it."
Daisy looked so earnestly and so curiously at him, as if to see what all
this was about, that the doctor must have had good command of his lips
not to smile again.
They went in to dinner just then and the conversation stopped. But
though not talked to, Daisy was looked after; and when she had forgotten
all about dinner and was thinking mournfully of what was going on at
home, a slice of roast beef or a nice peach would come on her plate with
a word from the doctor--"You are to eat that, Daisy"--and though he said
no more, somehow Daisy always chose to obey him.
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