At last they went into
the drawing-room again and were drinking coffee. Daisy was somewhat
comforted; she thought Dr. Sandford did not act as if there were
anything very dreadful the matter at home.
"Daisy," said the doctor, "you have done work for me to-day--would you
object to be paid?"
Daisy looked up smiling; it depended on what the pay might be, she
thought; but she said nothing.
"Would it be violently against your principles?"
"I do not want pay, Dr. Sandford."
"Not if I were to offer to give you a sight of those little baskets on
the frond of the _Marchantia_?"
Daisy's face all changed; but she said in the quietest manner, "Can you
do that, Dr. Sandford?"
"Come with me."
He held out his hand, which Daisy willingly took, and they went up
stairs together. Just short of her room the doctor stopped, and turned
into his own. This was a very plain apartment; there was no beauty of
furniture, though it struck Daisy there was a great deal of something.
There were boxes, and cabinets, and shelves full of books and boxes, and
bookcases, and one or two tables. Yet it was not a pretty-looking room,
like the others in Mrs. Sandford's house. Daisy was a little
disappointed. The doctor however gave her a chair, and then brought one
of the unlikely deal boxes to the table and opened it. Daisy forgot
everything. There appeared a polished, very odd brass machine, which the
doctor took out and spent some time in adjusting. Daisy patiently looked
on.
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