"Mrs. Randolph, I must remind you that though, you can hinder a tree from growing, in a particular place, you cannot a fungus; if the conditions be favourable."
"What do you mean?"
"I think this may be a good alterative."
The lady looked a little hard at the doctor.
"There is one book I wish you could hinder her from reading," she said, lowering her tone.
"What is that, madam?"
"She is just the child not to bear it; and she is injured by poring over the Bible."
"Put the Bibles out of her way," suggested the doctor.
"I have, as much as I can; but it is not possible to do it perfectly."
"Then I counsel you to allow her the use of this medicine," said Dr. Sandford, glancing towards the tray, which no longer held Daisy's attention. For together with her mother's lowering of voice, the one word "Bible" had come to her consciousness. Daisy was at no loss to guess what it meant. The low tones of the speakers gave her sufficient information.
Thus far; that her Bible was reckoned an undesirable treasure for her by her mother. Was her own dear little particular Bible in danger? the one that Mr. Dinwiddie had given her? Daisy was alarmed. She did not enjoy any more battle-fields, nor enter with good heart into her history work from that time, until she could get up stairs again and see that it was safe, and contrive some way or place to keep it safe in time to come. Where could such a place be? It was a puzzle, because all Daisy's things were, of course, open to her mother. Perhaps Daisy's fears were needless; but after the affair of her Egyptian spoon she looked with jealous eves not only on her Bible, but on her trilobite. She sat down with a dismayed little face, to think where she could find a hiding-place. She thought of putting the Bible under her bed or pillow; but the bed was turned over every morning, and the servants would find it. None of her bureau drawers or cabinet drawers were secure. Daisy pondered all manner of impossible places. At last fixed upon a spot of the floor covered by an ottoman. The ottoman was hollow and not very heavy, and never moved after the room was put in order every day. Till the room was put in order Daisy hid her Bible in a drawer; then took it out and consigned it to the obscurity of the ottoman.
She was greatly afraid, then, of being found reading it. She had not heard the words which passed between the doctor and her mother; only the word "Bible;" but the low tones made her well enough aware that the matter of their talk was somehow adverse; it boded nothing kindly to her and the Bible. So Daisy was in another perplexity; and resolved that to be as safe as she could, she would read with locked doors for the future. And as doors must not be locked at times when her mother might be coming and going, Daisy chose early morning and late evening for her Bible-reading. She used to let June undress her, and finish all her duties of dressing-maid; then she sent her away and locked her doors, and read in comfort. This lasted a little while; then one unlucky night Daisy forgot to unlock her doors. The morning came, and June with it; but June could neither get in nor dare knock loud enough to make Daisy hear; she was obliged to come round through her mistress's dressing-room. But Daisy's door on that side was locked too! June was going softly away.
"What do you want?" said her mistress.
"If you please, ma'am," said June, stopping very unwillingly—"I thought it was time to wake Miss Daisy."
"Why do you not go in, then?"
"Ma'am—the door is locked," said June, in a scarce audible undertone.
"Locked?—knock."
June went back and knocked.
"Louder," said Mrs. Randolph, who was under her maid's hands; "you would not waken a cat at that rate. Make yourself heard."
June's taps, however, continued so fearfully gentle, that Mrs. Randolph, arose and came to the door herself. One or two of the touches of her imperative fingers brought a little figure in white night-dress and just-awakened face, to open the door.
"Daisy," said her mother, "what is your door fast for?"
"Mamma—I wanted it fast for a few minutes."
"Did you lock it last night or this morning?"
"Last night—I thought—I meant to have opened it."
"Both your doors?"
"Yes, mamma."
"All night locked! Now, Daisy, I forbid you ever to turn the key in your door again, night or day."
"O mamma!—I want it shut sometimes."
"Hush. Go and let June dress you."
June was vexed enough with herself to have inflicted some punishment on her awkward tongue and head, when she saw that Daisy was for some reason or other deeply grieved. The tears gathered and fell, quietly, all through the process of dressing; and a sort of sob heaved from the child's breast now and then, without words and most involuntary. Juanita's cottage was a palace to Melbourne House, if peace made the furniture. But June did not know what to say; so she was silent too.
When June was gone Daisy went to her beloved window, and stood there. She did not like to kneel, because her mother might come in, or even June, while she was doing so. She stood at the sweet open window, and prayed that the Lord would take care of her, and help her to pray however she could. And then the thought of those words came to Daisy:—"Thou, therefore, endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ." She remembered very well how Captain Drummond had described the way a good soldier takes things—hard and disagreeable things as well as others. It is part of his business to endure them; he expects them, and minds them not at all in comparison with the service in which he is engaged. And a soldier of Jesus Christ has only to obey him, and take willingly whatever comes in the line of his service. What matter? The only thing was to obey orders, and do the work she was set upon. Hardships did not seem much like hardships when she thought of them in this way. And then it occurred to Daisy, that if shecouldnot fasten her doors, she had better just kneel down as usual with them open. She could not do without praying; and if she must be in traded upon, why it was a little hardship that she had better not mind. And when she had thought that, Daisy kneeled down; and she never had any more trouble about it. She did fancy, even that first morning, that she heard the lock of her door turn; but she did not move to see, and hearing nothing more she soon forgot it. Nobody wore such a bright and fresh face at the breakfast-table as Daisy; such a glad and uncareful face; and Mrs. Randolph seeing it, was reassured; though she had just seen her little daughter at her prayers, on her knees, by the window. She looked so happy now, that the lady was inclined to hope her religion was a childish folly, which would pass away and be forgotten in time.
But for the present Daisy was a soldier; and meditating much on a service which she had to perform. That very day, if you had been there, and worn an invisible cap, you might have gone into her room and seen what she was about. On the ottoman aforesaid Daisy's writing-desk was placed; and before it on a cricket sat Daisy, with a face, O how grave and busy! A very weight of care of some sort seemed to lie under her childish little brow. She was opening her desk and looking out paper; some she felt and rejected—it was too thin or too blue, or something; she tried her pen on another kind; it did not go well. At last a thick little sheet of note paper was chosen; and Daisy began to write. Or rather, sat over the paper with her pen in her fingers, thinking how to write. She looked very anxious; then took bits of paper and a pencil and tried different forms of a sentence. At last, with slow care, and fingers that trembled, a line or two was inscribed on the beautiful thick little sheet of English note paper.
"Dear papa, won't you think about being a Christian? Do not be displeased with
It was written all out, as fair as she could; and then you might have seen Daisy's little round head go down on her hands on the desk. It did not move for a good while. When it was lifted up, she sought out an envelope rather hurriedly, directed it, folded and put in her note, and sealed it.
Daisy shut her desk then, and with a manner not quite as calm and careless as usual, went to her father's dressing table and stood considering where she should put the note. Under the cushion, it might be seen first by a servant, and then delivered to Mr. Randolph in the midst of company. Under his dressing-box, the same fate threatened it. Daisy peered about, and thought, and trembled for several minutes. She had a fancy that she did not want him to get it before the next morning, when he would be quietly dressing here alone. He would certainly be opening his dressing-box before that. The only place Daisy could be sure would not be invaded before that, was the place she chose; she took off the cover of his box of shaving soap and with some trouble squeezed the note in so that it would lie safely hid; then put on the cover and put the box in its place, and went away with light hands and a heavy heart. Heavy, that is, with a burden of doubt mingled with fear. Would Mr. Randolph be angry? Daisy could not feel sure that that would not be the consequence of her proceeding. Perhaps he would be very much displeased, and think it very disrespectful and improper that his little daughter should take so much upon herself. Daisy knew quite well all that. But who else in the world would take the responsibility if she did not? No one; and Daisy with all her fear did not once think of going to get her note away again before it should be read. Her heart yearned towards her father. He was so very gentle and tender in his manner with her, more than ever, Daisy thought; she felt that the love between them was growing strong and deep even beyond what it used to be. And while he knew nothing of the joy that filled her own heart, and while he refused obedience to the laws that she knew were binding on him as well as on her, he must be also, she knew, without the favour and blessing of God. He had no part in it; nothing to do with it; and Daisy's heart swelled with childish sorrow and longing. She had thought a great deal about it, and concluded that she must bear "the message," even plainly in words, to her father, before she could feel satisfied. Little hands might take the message, Juanita had said; so humbly Daisy's took it; and then she prayed that it might not be for nothing. She knew all her hands could do was not much.
All the remainder of that day, Daisy never forgot her note in the box of shaving soap. She knew it was extremely unlikely that the box would be opened sooner than the next morning; nevertheless, whenever Mr. Randolph came near where she was, Daisy looked up with something like a start. There was nothing in his face to alarm her; and so night came, and Daisy kissed him twice for good night, wondering to herself whether he would feel like kissing her when they met again. Never mind, the message must be delivered, cost what it might. Yes, this was soldier's service. Daisy was going into the enemy's country.
Mr. Randolph had felt the lingering touch of Daisy's lips, and the thought of it came to him more than once in the course of the evening—"like the wind that breathes upon a bank of violets"—with a breath of sweetness in the remembrance. Nevertheless he had pretty well forgotten it, when he pulled off the cover of his box of shaving soap the next morning. He was belated and in something of a hurry. If ever a man suddenly forgot his hurry, Mr. Randolph did, that morning. He knew the unformed, rather irregular and stiff handwriting in a moment; and concluded that Daisy had some request to make on her own account which she was too timid to speak out in words. That was what he expected when he opened the paper; but Eve could not have been much more surprised when the serpent spoke to her in the garden of Eden, than was Mr. Randolph at finding that his little lamb of a child had dared to open her mouth to him in this fashion.
"Mr. Randolph, you will be late," said the lady who owned that name, coming to his door. And seeing her husband standing still with his elbow leaning on his dressing-table, she walked in.
"You will assuredly be late! what have you got there?"
The little sheet of English note-paper lay spread out on the dressing-table. Mr. Randolph was looking at it. He did not answer, and the lady bent nearer for a moment and then stood upright.
"Daisy!" exclaimed Mrs. Randolph.
Her husband made an inarticulate sort of a noise, as he turned away and took up his neglected shaving soap.
"What is this?" said the lady in astonishment.
"What you see—" said Mr. Randolph.
"Where did it come from?"
"The signature tells you."
"But where did you get it?"
"Here—this moment."
"The impertinent little minx!"
"Hush. She does not mean to be impertinent, Felicia."
"Do you like misbehaviour that is not meant, Mr. Randolph?"
"Better than that whichismeant."
"I told you the child would get ruined in that place," said Mrs. Randolph, after musing a few minutes over the little sheet of note-paper.
Mr. Randolph made a lather and applied it. That might be the reason why he made no answer.
"I call it impertinence," the lady went on, "and very well grown impertinence too—from a child like that! It is the trick of all religious people, to think themselves better and wiser than the rest of the world; but I think Daisy has learnt the lesson early!"
Still silence on Mr. Randolph's part and steady attention to his toilet duties.
"What notice do you mean to take of this?"
"I think, none at all."
"Mr. Randolph, Daisy is ruined!"
"I do not quite see it yet."
"I wish you would see it. She is full of stupid stiff ways, which will be habits fixed as iron in a little time if we do not break them up. She does not act like a child."
"She is very like a child to me," said Mr. Randolph.
"You do not see. Do you observe her way whenever she sits down to table? She covers her face and remains in silent prayer, I suppose, a minute or so."
A slight laugh came from Mrs. Randolph with the words. Mr. Randolph could not well laugh, for he was shaving. He remarked that he had never seen it.
"I wish you would remember and take notice. She does it regularly. And she is not a docile childanylonger, I give you warning. You will find it very difficult to do anything with her in the way of breaking up this religious stiffness of hers."
Mr. Randolph was silent a while, and Mrs. Randolph looked vexed. At length he remarked that indirect ways were the best.
"It will take both," said his wife; "direct and indirect." And after that they went down to breakfast.
Mr. Randolph was the last, and he was not early; but this morning Daisy was later still. Her father watched for her coming, and did not see it after all; Daisy stole in so quietly, she was in her seat by his side before he had noticed her. Then perceiving the gentle, sweet, quiet little face beside him, and recognizing the timid feeling which made Daisy afraid to meet his eye, he could not refrain; he bent down and gave her a kiss. He was very much touched by the little fluttering start and glance which Daisy returned to this salutation, and he saw that a pink flush of pleasure came into her cheeks. Perhaps all this put the subject of watching her out of Mr. Randolph's head; he certainly did not see the minute, a few minutes later, when Daisy's hand stole to her brow and her eyes were for a short space hidden and her hand moveless. Mrs. Randolph saw it, and saw that he did not. Daisy had forgotten that anybody could see her. The thanksgiving of her heart had more burden to-day than the ordinary gifts of the morning which she was wont to remember. Her father was not angry with her! It took a load off Daisy's heart; and she looked so happy all breakfast time that Mr. Randolph was very much inclined to slight his wife's fears.
Juanita's constant habit of thankfulness and of expressing her thankfulness, during the weeks Daisy had spent with her had gone down into the child's heart. With every meal, though taken by herself all alone, Daisy had seen the old woman acknowledging gratefully from whose hand she got it. And with other things beside meals; and it had seemed sweet and pleasant to Daisy to do so. At home, when she was suddenly transferred to her father's stately board, where every beauty and luxury were gathered together and an array of friends to help each other enjoy it; and no one remembered, no one acknowledged that any gratitude was due to the hand that had supplied the board and given the friends, Daisy's heart was pained by a great sense of want. Not thank God for all these things? give no acknowledgement of praise to him? She could not bear to have it so. She thought nobody would notice her, or know what she was doing if they did notice her; and she used to put her hand over her brow and comfort her own heart with giving the thanks she wanted to express. She soon forgot to be afraid anybody would notice her. But Mrs. Randolph marked it all, and now never missed the minute when Daisy's face was shielded.
The thing on hand now was the expedition to Silver Lake. Daisy's foot and ankle were getting sufficient strength to bear all the work that need be asked of them; and it was best to go while the hot weather still lingered. It was early in September, and the day was fixed. Quite a party was going. There were no visitors at Melbourne House now except Mrs. Gary and her children; but that brought the home party up to seven. Dr. Sandford was going, of course. Then some other neighbours. Mrs. Stanfield had promised to go, with her little daughter Ella and her older daughter Theresa. Mrs. Fish was coming from another quarter of the country, with her children, Alexander and Frederica. Mr. Fish and Mr. Stanfield were to go too; and Mr. and Mrs. Sandford, the doctor's brother and sister-in-law. However, though this was to be such a strong muster, Daisy thought of only two or three of the number that concerned her personally. Preston and Ransom, of course; Alexander Fish; though the two latter she thought of as likely to make disturbance more than anything else; and Daisy liked a most lady-like quietness and propriety in everything in which she was engaged. But besides these there was only Ella Stanfield whose age would bring her into contact with Daisy; and Daisy, very much of late accustomed to being alone or with older people, looked with some doubtfulness at the prospect of having a young companion to entertain. With that exception, and it hardly made one, nothing could look brighter in the distance than Silver Lake.
Several days passed between Daisy's giving the note to her father and the one fixed on for the expedition. In all that time Daisy was left to guess whether or not it had been seen and read by him. No sign or token told her; there was none; and Daisy could only conclude that hemusthave seen it, because he could not very well help doing so. But she was not at all discouraged. Rather the contrary; seeing that certainly her father was not displeased with her.
In all these days too, Mr. Randolph had ample time and chance to observe Daisy's action which had so disturbed her mother at meal times. Yet hitherto he had never spoken of it. In fact it was so quietly done that often the moment escaped him; and at other times, Daisy's manner so asked for a shield rather than a trumpet, and the little face that looked up from being covered with her hand was so bright and sweet, that perhaps his heart shrank from saying anything that would change the expression. At any rate, Daisy had been safe thus far.
Great preparations were making for the Silver Lake day. Thursday it was to be. Wednesday evening Dr. Sandford was at Melbourne. Daisy was considering the arrangements of a little packed basket of her own.
"Are you expecting to have a good time to-morrow, Daisy?" he asked.Daisy smiled as she said yes.
"But you will have to keep quiet. I shall not let you run about like the rest."
"I can sit quiet and look at the lake," said Daisy; with so absolutely contented a face that the doctor smiled.
"But in parties of pleasure, do you know, my friend, it generally happens that people cannot do what they expected to do?"
"Then I can do something else," said Daisy, looking very fearless of anything disagreeable.
"Will you let your old friend, Nora Dinwiddie, join the party?"
"Nora! O is Nora coming?" exclaimed Daisy.
"Mrs. Sandford commissioned me to make the enquiry, Mrs. Randolph, whether one more would be too many? Her little relation, Daisy's friend I believe, has returned to her for the rest of the season."
"Certainly!" Mrs. Randolph said,—"there was room for everybody." The lady's manner told nothing; but nevertheless Daisy did not venture to shew her joy. She did not say another word about Nora. The hour of meeting was determined, and the doctor withdrew. Daisy looked over the contents of her basket again with fresh satisfaction, made sure that all was right and everything there; and went to bed happy.
Thursday morning broke fair as eye could see. The September sun rose in a haze of warm rays; promising, as Mrs. Randolph said, that the heat would be stifling by and by. Daisy did not care, for her part. They had breakfast earlier than usual; for the plan was to get on the other side of the river before the sun should be too oppressive. They had scarcely risen from the table when the Sandford party drove up to the door. These were to go in a boat with the party from Melbourne House. Mr. and Mrs. Fish, from higher up the river, were to cross in their own boat and join the rest at the spot appointed on the opposite shore. The Stanfields were to do the same, starting from a different point; friends having arrived that would swell their numbers beyond the original four. Of all this, Daisy cared just for one thing; that Nora was come and was to go in the boat with her, and no other. The meeting between the two children, on the steps of Melbourne, was most joyous.
"O Nora! I'm so glad you have come!"—and, "O Daisy! I'm so glad to be here!"—and a small host of small questions and answers, that indeed meant a great deal, but would not read for much.
"O Nora, isn't it nice!" said Daisy, as they stood on the steps, while the carriages waited, below before the door.
"It's grand," said Nora. "Why aunt Frances says we shall be gone all day."
"To be sure we shall," said Daisy. "Papa is going to fish; and so is Preston, and Dr. Sandford and other people, I suppose; and some of the men take their tackle along too. There is nice fish in the Lake."
"What men do you mean?" said Nora.
"O, the men that manage the boat and carry the baskets; there are ever so many baskets to go, you know; and the men must carry them; because the path won't let a wagon go."
"Who is going to carry you?" said Dr. Sandford coming out behind them.
"Me?" said Daisy.
"Yes."
"Why I do not want anybody to carry me, Dr. Sandford."
"Don't you? I do. And I shall want two men to do it. Whom will you have?I have arranged a mountain chair for you, Daisy."
"A chair!" said Daisy. How could that be? And then she saw in Dr. Sandford's wagon, a chair to be sure; a common, light, cane-bottomed arm-chair; with poles sticking out before and behind it very oddly. She looked up at the doctor, and Nora demanded what that was?
"Something like the chairs they use in the mountains of Switzerland, to carry ladies up and down."
"To carry me?" said Daisy.
"For that purpose. Now see whom you will have to do it."
Daisy and Nora ran away together to consult her father. The matter was soon arranged. James the footman, and Michael the coachman, were to go to carry baskets and help manage the boat; James being something of a sailor. Now Logan and Sam were pressed into the service; the latter to take James's business, as porter, and leave the latter free to be a chair-bearer.
"I don't see how the boat is to carry all the people," Nora remarked.
"O yes," said Daisy, "it is a big boat; it will hold everybody, I guess; and it goes with a sail, Nora. Won't that be nice? Papa knows how to manage it."
"It will want a very large boat to take us all," Nora persisted. "I went out with Marmaduke in a sail-boat once—heknows how to manage a sail-boat too;—and I am sure it wouldn't have held half as many people as we have got here. No, nor a quarter as many."
"O yes, but our boat is bigger, I suppose," said Daisy. "Don't you like to go in a boat, Nora?"
"I like it if it don't lean over too far," said Nora. "I thought it was going to turn over once or twice, when I was out with Marmaduke that time. I was afraid."
"I am not afraid with papa," said Daisy. "I know he can manage it."
"Why so can Marmaduke manage it," said Nora; "and he said I needn't be afraid; but I was."
The carriages took the whole party down to the shore in a few minutes. There lay the sail-boat all ready, her sails shaken out; and James and Sam, on board already, received basket after basket from the hands of Logan and the coachman and stowed them away in what seemed to be a place of ample accommodations. Daisy and Nora, hand in hand, stood on the shore looking at all that was done, and with eager eyes. The summer breeze just played lightly and rippled the water, on which the morning sun made a warm glow, early in the day as it was.
"Whatcouldso many baskets be wanted for?" said Nora.
"Why, to carry all the things. You know there will be a great many people to eat dinner at Silver Lake."
"Dinner?" said Nora; "do people eat dinner when they go to a pic-nic?"
"Why yes. What do you think they do?"
"I thought it was just a pic-nic."
[Illustration]
"What is that?" said Daisy curiously. But just then there was a stir; the ladies and gentlemen were getting into the boat, and the children had to be ready for their turn. It came; and Mr. Randolph handed one after the other safe over the gunwale of the big sail-boat and placed them happily beside each other in the middle space, where they could have an excellent time for talking. But they wanted no talking at first. When all were aboard and ready, the boat was cast loose from the shore and her sail trimmed to catch the soft northerly air that came blowing down the river. Slowly the sail caught the breeze—would it be strong enough to take her? the children thought—slowly, very slowly, the boat edged its way out from the shore—then the breeze filled the sail full, took good hold, and began to push the little vessel with a sensible motion out towards the river channel. Steady and sweet the motion was, gathering speed. The water presently rippled under the boat's prow, and she yielded gently a little to the pressure on the sail, tipped herself gracefully a little over, and began to cleave her way through the rippling water in good earnest. Then how the waves sparkled! how cheery the movement was! how delicious the summer air over the water! although, the sun was throwing down his beams with great power already and the, day promised to be sultrily hot.
"It is going to be intense," said Mrs. Randolph.
"Melting!"—said Mrs. Gary.
"You will have enough of it before the end of the day—" remarked Mr. Sandford. Mr. Sandford was a good-humoured looking gentleman, with a sensible face and black whiskers; but he was a gentleman, and Daisy approved of him. He was very unlike his brother. His wife was a very plain person, in feature, and not very talkative; letting her husband do that for her; but kindly and pleasant nevertheless; and Daisy approved of her too.
"At what hour do you expect the daywillend, practically?" inquiredMrs. Randolph of her husband. He smiled.
"I should say—judging from present tokens—not till the sun gets well down on his western way."
"First-rate!" said Preston aside. "We'll have a good time for fishing."
"But that will make it very late crossing the river, Mr. Randolph? will it not?"
"It may."
"There is a moon," said Mrs. Sandford.
"Moon! I hope we are not to be beholden to the moon's good offices!" exclaimed the other lady. "It is only ten o'clock now—not that. We shall be tired to death of the woods before we have done with them."
"You must try fishing, aunt Felicia," said Preston.
"Yes—a good idea," remarked Mr. Sandford. "I do not know how the ladies can get along without some sport—ha, ha! There is a boat on the lake—isn't there?"
"They say so," Mr. Randolph returned. "I have not been there for a long time."
"Then I shall take the charge of your entertainment, Mrs. Randolph," Mr. Sandford went on. "I shall persuade you to put yourself under my guidance, and let me initiate you into the mysteries of pickerel catching."
"I do not think you can persuade me out of the shade—if once I get in it again—" said the lady.
"Why mamma," said Ransom, "pickerel fishing is splendid!"
Mr. Randolph looked at Daisy. No heat nor shadow too much for her! With one hand clasped in Nora's, her little face was a pattern of perfect content; nay, it was full of delighted joy. Mr. Randolph thought he could endure his portion of the heat.
"Nora," said Daisy, "isn't it nice?"
"It goes nicely now," said Nora.
"But isn't it pleasant?"
"Yes. It is a great deal pleasanter than in a little boat. This one is good and large."
"Isn't the water pretty?"
"I like the green grass better," said Nora.
"O yes! but then I like this too. I like it very much. Nora, what did you mean by a pic-nic?"
"A pic-nic?" said Nora.
"Yes; you said you thought people did not eat dinner, but it was apic-nic."
"Well, I thought they didn't."
"What did you mean by apic-nic?"
"Why I meant just that. You know what a pic-nic is."
"We always have dinner when we go on a pic-nic," said Daisy.
"Then I don't think it is a pic-nic."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. Daisy, are you going to ride in that queer chair?"
"I suppose so. My ankle isn't quite strong yet, you know. Wasn't it nice of Dr. Sandford to prepare it for me?"
"I don't know,Idon't think he is nice," said Nora.
Which expression of opinion was so very startling to Daisy that it took her some time to recover from it. She sought out the doctor with her eye where he was sitting forward of the mast, somewhat hid from her by a piece of the sail; she scanned his countenance, with its calm nobleness of feature, and steadfast, reserved, beautiful blue eye. Doubtless, he was not everything Daisy wished him; nevertheless to her he was very "nice" indeed. Her eye came back satisfied.
At the other end of the boat the party were talkative and gay. Mr. Randolph held the main sheet in his own hand; Mr. Sandford had the rudder; neither of them had much to do; for the wind was gentle and fair, and the boat kept her straight course for the opposite shore. The river was wide however at this place; the other shore was an object in view for a good while before they reached it. Slowly and steadily the little skiff skimmed over; they got to the middle of the river; then the trees before them on the other side, with the cleared fields in one or two spots, began to shew in more distinct forms and colours. The sun was very hot! So hot, that it seemed to kill the breeze. As they drew near their place of disembarkation, the motion of the vessel grew slack; the sail fluttered now and then; the propelling force just lasted till they got to shore, and then nobody said anything more of any air felt to be stirring.
"I think we had better stay on the water," said Mrs. Gary. "It is positively stifling here."
"It will be better when we get in the woods," suggested Mr. Sandford.
"No,—begging your pardon," Mr. Randolph answered.
"No?—will it be worse, Mr. Randolph?" said his wife.
"I hope not—for I think you could broil a beefsteak here in another hour; when the sun gets on the meridian."
"Then do let us move away from here at once! it is oppressive. I do not know how we are going to walk, but I suppose we shall find out. We may hope there will be a little freshness by the lake."
Mr. Stanfield's boat however had to be waited for a few minutes. It got to shore just as Mr. Fish's skiff appeared in sight coasting down on the same side, from behind a point. The whole party were soon together, exchanging shakes of the hand and puffs of condolence on the state of the atmosphere. There was presently a division of forces. All the boys, Preston, Ransom, and Alexander Fish, compared notes and fishing tackle. The ladies and gentlemen, with one or two elder girls, Frederica Fish and Theresa Stanfield and Eloïse Gary, congregated into a moving mass of muslins and parasols. While Daisy and Nora were joined by Ella Stanfield; and a great constraint fell upon all three. Ella was a comparative stranger; a nice looking child, thoughtful and old beyond her years. She looked like gravity; Nora liked gayety; while Daisy was most like the thing that bears her name. They stood like little pinks of propriety, without saying anything to each other. This constraint was soon broken up by the preparations for the march. On enquiry it was found that there were two or three ways to the lake. One was short and easy (in comparison) but very narrow; a mere footpath through the woods. Another had a wider track; but it had also a rough footing of rocks and stones, and was much longer; taking a circuit to reach the place. Another still was only used by eager lovers of the picturesque, though it was said to reward them.
As soon as all this was explained to the understanding of the company, the larger division set off immediately for the easiest and quickest road to the lake; no other recommendation was worth a moment's considering. With quick disappearance one after another muslin dress and gay parasol was lost within the edge of the woods which their chosen path immediately entered. They vanished from the shore. Every one of them was presently out of sight. Mr. Randolph had seen that Dr. Sandford was putting Daisy into her travelling conveyance; and thinking no attention of his own could be needful he had gone on in advance of the party with Mrs. Stanfield. The very last of them, muslins and parasols and all, was swallowed up in the enclosing woods, almost before Daisy was established in her chair. Her bearers lifted it then to receive instructions from Dr. Sandford as to their method of playing their part. They were Logan and Sam; James was devoted to his own particular charge.
"Why where are Nora and Ella?" Daisy suddenly exclaimed.
"Everybody seems to have gone on," answered the doctor. "Except the boys. Now Daisy, are you comfortable? is it all right?"
"It is nice, Dr. Sandford!"—But at the same time Daisy wondered much and grieved not a little that her companions should have left her to go alone. Was that kindness? or good manners?
"Did they know which way I was going?" she said.
"I fancy so," said the doctor; "they have done as everybody else does—gone with the crowd. Now, you fellows, you know the way."
"Yes, sir."
"When you come to a house, remember, you must turn sharp to the right.Boys, you must go with the chair as a body-guard."
"Why must we?" said Ransom.
"You would not have your sister go alone?"
"You are going that way."
"You are mistaken. I am not."
"She has got Logan and Sam to take care of her. Girls always have to be taken care of!" exclaimed Ransom in disgust.
"I am astonished at your want of gallantry. Preston, I shall depend on you to see that the chair is properly attended."
"Which way are you going, sir?"
"By myself—to see if I can get a shot at something."
Preston did not look delighted, Daisy saw, though he accepted the charge the doctor gave him. The doctor himself strode off with his gun, disappearing in the woods at the nearest point. Daisy was left with her two bearers and her three attendants.
"Well boys, we may as well get along," said Ransom discontentedly. "There is no occasion that we should keep poking on behind this concern."
They passed it and took the lead. Preston as he passed asked Daisy how it went, and if she were comfortable. It went very nicely, and she was very comfortable; and receiving this assurance Preston sprang forward to regain Alexander Fish's company, with whom he was holding an animated discourse on the making and using of artificial flies. The three boys trudged along in advance; the motions of their busy heads, and of their active feet, telling that there was no lack of interest or excitementthere. The chair followed steadily with its little burden. It went nicely; she was very comfortable; it was a new and most pleasant mode of getting over the ground; and yet—there was something at work in Daisy's heart that was not pleasure. She was sadly disappointed. She was left alone. It had tried her a good deal that Nora and Ella should have ran after the larger party with so cavalier an abandonment of her, when they knew her chair must go another road. Then she was very sorry that the doctor had seen good to forsake her; and felt that from the thoughtfulness or unselfishness of boys she had little to hope for. Look at them! there they went before her, putting more and more distance between them and the chair every minute. Perhaps they would entirely forget their little convoy and be out of sight in a trifle more time. And in all that big party of pleasure, everybody engaged with somebody else, she was left with no one to speak to her, and no company at all but that of Logan and Sam. Daisy two or three times put up her hand stealthily to her face to get rid of a tear that had found its way there. Daisy thought at first that she would not have done so to her friends as they had done to her; but then presently she reflected what reason she had to know better and to do better, that they had not; and instead of anything like resentment, a very gentle and tender feeling of pity and kindness arose in Daisy's mind toward them. Her hurt sense of unfriendliness quite soothed itself away; and now Daisy began to enjoy herself and the day and the party of pleasure. Her share of it, at least. Her chair was under shadow of the tall woods now. It is true, it was very hot there. No air seemed moving. The chair-bearers often raised an arm to their brows to wipe away the heated moisture that stood there and ran down their faces. But Daisy had no exertion to make; and instead of that, her own motion seemed to give a little life to the lifeless air. Then she was at leisure to look and enjoy; not having even to take care of her own footing. The depth of green leafage over her head when she looked up; the depth of green shade on either hand of her, pierced by the endless colonnade of the boles of trees; how wildly beautiful it was! Daisy thought of a good many things she would like to ask Dr. Sandford—if she had the liberty; but he did not talk about wonderful things to her now that she was well and had her own means of amusement. Now and then Daisy had the sight of a red squirrel, running along a tree bough or scampering over the ground from one rock to another. What jumps he would make to get out of her way! And birds were singing too, sometimes; and mosses were spread out in luxuriant patches of wood carpeting in many places; and rocks were brown and grey, and grown with other mosses and ferns; and through all this fairy work of beauty Daisy's chair went at an easy, quiet pace, with a motion that she thought it very pleasant to feel.
It was a wild old wood, which nobody had ever meddled with. Things were just as nature's work had made them. The path the little party were travelling was a wood road merely, where country wagons had made a track; or more properly, where the country people had made a track for their wagons. It was but a rough way; stumps of trees that had been cut down stood right in the middle of it; and rocks and stones were in some places very thickly strewn over it. After some time of wandering over level ground, the path took a turn and began to get among the hills. It wound up and down and was bordered now by steep hillsides and sharp-rising rocks. It was all the wilder and prettier. The house Dr. Sandford spoke of had been passed; the turn had been taken; there was nothing to do now but follow on till they found the lake; but there were no signs of it yet, nor any sound of voices to be heard in the distance. Even the boys were gone on out of sight; the stillness of summer noon was all through the deep woods, for it is a time of day when the birds do not feel like ringing much. Daisy enjoyed it. She thought no one of all their company was having a better time probably than she.
Suddenly Sam, who was foremost of the bearers, gave a great shout; and at the same instant dropped his end of Daisy's chair and sprang to one side. Then stood still.
"What for air ye playing capers like that?" inquired Logan, with an air of great disgust and a strong Scotch accent. Sam stood still, drawing his countenance into all manner of grimaces.
"Speak then, can't ye! What ails ye? Don't stand there like a MerryAndrew, boy!"
"I've hurted myself!" Sam groaned.
"And how did ye hurt yourself? When ye were walking along, couldn't ye go for'rard quietly? Where's the hurt?"
"My foot!" said Sam bending down to it. "I can't stir it. Oh!"
"Did ye hurt yourself before or after ye gave such a loup?" Logan grunted, going over however now to bring his own wisdom to bear on Sam's causes of trouble. "Whatever possessed ye boy, with the end of the chair in your hand?"
"I see a sarpent—" said Sam submissively.
"A sarpent!" echoed Logan—"it's not your pairt to be frighted if you see a sarpent. What hurt would the sight of the brute do ye? There's no harm come to ye, boy, but the start."
"I can't move it—" repeated Sam under his breath.
"Logan, perhaps he has sprained his ankle," said Daisy from her chair; where at first she had been pretty well frightened.
"Weel—I don't see it," replied Logan slowly and unbelievingly.
"How does it feel, Sam?" Daisy asked.
"It don't feel without I stir it, Miss Daisy—and then, it's like a knife."
"He has sprained it, I am afraid, Logan," said Daisy getting out of her chair and coming to the consultation. "I think it is swelling now."
Sam had bared his unfortunate ankle, Logan looked up from it to the little speaker whose words were so quietly wise, with unspoken admiration.
"Can't ye walk then, Sam?" he urged. "Here is Miss Daisy in the middle of the road and wanting to be at the Lake—and how much farther it may be to the Lake is a subject unknown to me. Can't ye bear your foot surely?"
Sam's reply was sorrowful but decided; he could not bear it at all, with any weight upon it.
"Never mind, Logan," said Daisy; "I can wait. You had better go forward and see if you can find the boys. They can take care of me."
Logan felt the justness of this proposition, and at once put his long legs in swift motion to overtake the advance party; exercising a good strong voice too presently in hallooing to them. Daisy was left with Sam. The thought crossed her mind that this was getting to be an odd party of pleasure; but her real concern was for the sprained ankle. That, she was very sorry for. Her own delay and disappointment she took patiently.
Logan's halloos brought the boys to a stand. They waited till he came up to them, not deeming it necessary on their part to go back to see what was the matter. When they heard his news there was a disagreeable pause. What was to be done?
"Daisy can walk the rest of the way," was the decision of her brother.
"How far is it?" said Preston.
"I don't know!—it's no great things of a walk anyhow. Girls are always getting into trouble!"
"But what has got to be done with Sam?" said Preston.
"He can take care of himself," said Sam's young master.
"He can't move, sir, on his own feet," said Logan.
"You'll have to carry him, then. I suppose we cannot leave him in the woods, for humanity."
"There's Miss Daisy, sir."
"What a plague!" exclaimed Ransom. "Daisy can walk. She must at any rate; and you can bring her chair along to make firewood. Boys we ought to be there this minute—at the Lake. We shall be cheated out of all our fishing before dinner. That's along of mounting guard on a girl! And after dinner there won't be two inches of time."
"Hush, Ransom!" said Preston.
At this point the consultation was enlarged, and its character somewhat modified by the coming of Dr. Sandford upon the scene. From a height not far off, where he was roaming with his gun, he had perceived the group discerned that something was wrong, and come down with a quick step to reach them. His eye rather than his voice asked what was the matter. He was answered in various styles by the different members of the group.
"Here is a muss!" said Ransom.
"Miss Daisy, sir, she is left standing in the middle o' the forest!"—said Logan.
"Sam has very stupidly sprained his ankle," said Preston, "and cannot move."
The doctor without a word turned in the direction from which Logan had come. "Follow me, young gentlemen," said he, looking over his shoulder,—-"I shall need your help." So unwillingly enough, the boys, fishing tackle and all, turned back upon their steps, and followed. They soon came to Daisy's emptied chair, where she stood mounting guard over Sam.
The ankle was badly sprained; there was no doubt of that. Sam not only could carry nobody; he must himself be carried. The doctor ordered that Logan should take him on his back and convey him as far as the poor little house they had passed on the way. A good lift it was, for Sam was a well grown, stout fellow; but Logan was a long-limbed, sinewy, brawny Scotchman, and he made no difficulty of the job. The doctor in the first place deposited his gun against a tree, and did what was needful for the hurt ankle.
"Now," said he to Daisy, "how are you going to get forward?"
"I can walk the rest of the way," said Daisy.
"Pardon me. Not with my leave. Boys, which, of you will take the honour of being chair-bearers? I have my gun to care for."
"I will be one," said Preston.
"And Ransom will be the other. Come, sir!"
"Honour!"—said Ransom as he moved sullenly forward. "I think girls ought to stay at home when there is anything going on. They are plaguily in one's way!"
"That is a very womanish speech," said the doctor; "in so far as that it is very unmanly."
Ransom's temper nowise improved by this reply, he took up sulkily his ends of the chair poles; and once more the party set forward. It was not quite so pleasant now for Daisy; her chair was no longer carried smoothly. Preston, who was in advance, did his part perfectly well; but Ransom, behind her, let the chair go up and go down and sway about very unsteadily, besides that every step was with a jolting motion. It kept Daisy in constant uneasiness. Dr. Sandford walked on just before with his gun; Alexander Fish came after, laughing and jesting with the other boys.
"How does it go, Daisy?" said the doctor, stopping after a while to inquire.
"Mayn't I get out and walk, Dr. Sandford?"
"What for?"
"I should like it very much!"
"Do you not ride easily?"
"Not quite," said Daisy. "It throws me about a good deal."
"Ah! Did it do so when Logan and Sam carried you?"
"I did not feel it then," said Daisy unwillingly.
"Your porters are unskilled."
The doctor took his station by Ransom's hand, remarking that he would see that he did his work well. And he was as good as his word. He kept a constant eye on the management of the chair: and when Ransom neglected his duty, gave him a word of admonition or advice, so keen and contemptuous in its rebuke, though slight and dry, that even Ransom's thickness of apprehension felt it, and sheered off from meeting it. The last part of the distance Daisy was thoroughly well cared for, and in silence; for the doctor's presence had put a stop to all bantering between the boys. In furious silence on Ransom's part this last portion of the way was accomplished.
At the lake at last! And in Daisy's breast at least, everything but pleasure was now forgotten. A very beautiful sheet of water, not very small either, with broken shores, lay girdled, round with the unbroken forest. Close to the edge of the lake the great trees rose up and flung their arms over; the stems and trunks and branches were given back again in the smooth mirror below. Where the path came out upon the lake, a spread of greensward extended under the trees for a considerable space; and this was spotted and variegated now with the scattered members of the pleasure party. Blue and pink and white and green, the various light muslins contrasted with the grey or the white dresses of the gentlemen; while parasols were thrown about, and here and there a red shawl lay upon the ground, for somebody's reclining carpet. To add to all this, which made already a very pretty picture under the canopy of the great trees, a boat lay moored at a little point further on; baskets and hampers congregated with great promise in another quarter under guard of James and one or two of his helpers; and upon it all the sunlight just peeped through the trees, making sunny flecks upon the ground. Nobody wanted more of it, to tell the truth; everybody's immediate business upon reaching the place had been to throw himself down and get cool. Daisy and Dr. Sandford were the two signal exceptions.
Nora and Ella came running up, and there was a storm of questions. "ODaisy, isn't it beautiful!" "How came you to be so long getting here?""Did you have a nice ride?" "O Daisy, what are we going to do, you andElla, and I? Everybody else is going to do something."
"What are they going to do?" said Daisy.
"O I don't know! everything. Mr. Randolph is going out in the boat to fish, and all the ladies are going with him—Mrs. Sandford and Mrs. Stanfield and your mother; only Mrs. Fish isn't going; but Mr. Sandford is. And Eloïse, your cousin, is going to see about having the dinner ready; and Theresa Stanfield is in that too; I think they have got the most fun; but nobody is doing anything yet. It's too hot. Are you hot, Daisy?"
"Not very."
"O Daisy," said Ella Stanfield, "couldn'twefish?"
"There are so many boys—" said Daisy; "I do not believe there will be any fishing tackle for us."
"Can you fish, Daisy?" asked the doctor, who stood near, looking after his gun.
"No, sir. I did catch a fish once—but it was only my line caught it."
"Not your hand at the end of the line?"
"My hand was not there. The line was lying on the bank and my hook in the water."
"Oh! that was it!"
Away went the doctor with his gun, and the boys sped off with their fishing rods. The heat was too great for anybody else to move. Nevertheless, what are parties of pleasure forbutpleasure? they must not let the whole day slip away with nothing done but lying in the shade of the trees. There was a little island in the lake, well wooded like its shores. It was proposed that the ladies' fishing party should row over to the island, and there, under another shady grove, carry on their designs against the pickerel. Daisy's wish was to go with that party in the boat and watch their sport; especially as Mr. Randolph was the leader and manager of it. She was not asked to go; there was no room for the little people; so they stood on the shore and saw the setting-off, and watched the bright dimples every stroke of the oars made in the surface of the lake.
The people were pretty well scattered now. Nobody was left on the ground but Mrs. Gary and Mrs. Fish, sitting under a tree at some distance, talking; and Eloïse and Theresa, who were charged to superintend the laying of the cloth. Having nothing particular to do, the three children became hangers-on, to watch how this business would be conducted; ready to help if they got a chance.
It was found a difficult business to arrange places for so many people on the grass; and the girls finally and wisely gave it up. They determined to set out the eatables only, on a tablecloth spread to receive them; but to let everybody eat where he felt disposed, or where he could find the best bit of shade. Shade was the best thing that day, Theresa Stanfield declared. But the first thing of all was to light a fire; for coffee must be boiled, and tea made. The fire was not a troublesome thing to have, for dead wood was in plenty for the gathering. James and Logan, who had come to the scene of action, soon had that going; and the children forgot that it was hot, in the beauty and the novelty of the thing, and laughed at Theresa's red cheeks as she stooped over the coals with her coffee-pot. About coffee Daisy was ignorant. But tea had been made in her behalf by Juanita too many times for her not to have the whole proceeding fixed in her memory.
"O Eloïse, you must not make thatteanow!" she exclaimed.
"Mustn't I!"
"No. It will be spoiled."
"Some other things have had the same fate," said Eloïse.
"It will not be good for anything, Eloïse," Daisy persisted gently. "It should not be made but just before you want it—just a few minutes."
"You are wise, Daisy," returned her cousin. "I do not know so much as you do, you see."
Daisy fell back a little. Eloïse and Theresa went to unpacking the hampers; and James, acting under their direction, carried and placed the various articles they took out, placed and replaced; for as new and unlooked-for additions were made to the stock of viands, the arrangement of those already on the tablecloth had to be varied. There was a wonderful supply; for a hamper had come from every house that had sent members to the party.
"What shall we do with it all?" said Eloïse.
"Find out what people like—or are expected to like. Just look at the cold chickens! and the ham! I am so thankful for that red lobster, to make a variety. There are three boxes of sardines—and what is that?"
"Anchovy paste."
"Well!—and look at the other things! We want an army to eat them. There is a dog, to begin with."
Theresa said it with comical coolness; but Eloïse screamed, as a little spaniel was perceived to be snuffing round the tablecloth.
"It's Ransom's dog! Run, Daisy, run, and keep him off. Just stay there and keep watch of him, or he'll be all over everything. Daisy, run!"
Daisy left the hampers, and walked, or indeed obeyed orders and ran, to where the little spaniel was threatening a rout among the whole army of cold chickens. Daisy called him off, and then stood by to take care of him. It was very amusing to see Eloïse and Theresa unpack the hampers; and Ella and Nora, finding it so, made no move to join Daisy in her distant watch. The men were busy running to and fro with the unpacked eatables, and keeping up the fire, and setting piles of plates everywhere, and laying glasses all round the tablecloth—for they would not stand up—and putting wine in coolers, that is to say, in pails of ice water. Daisy felt alone again, left out of the play. She looked at Nora and Ella in the distance—that is, just far enough away to be out of her society, eagerly standing over the hampers; and for a moment felt not very well pleased, either with them or her cousin Eloïse. But then she remembered that she was tired, and sat down with her back against a tree; resolved to take all things patiently, if she could; and she very soon found enough to do, and amusing enough, in ordering the arrangement of the dishes on the tablecloth. Logan was sure to set a thing down in the wrong place, if he set it anywhere; and even James was confused in such a very novel state of his department. Daisy found exercise for all her wisdom, and full content came with full employment, naturally.
You can make pleasure out of almost anything, if you set about it. In the intervals she rested, and watched the distant figures of the fishing party on the island; and gladdened herself with the beauty and the sweet air of the wood, and the flecks of sunshine and moving shadow on the ground beneath the trees. I am afraid nobody else found the air sweet, unless it were the doctor. He was hardy, and besides had a philosophical way of looking at things. Daisy watched for his coming, afraid that he might wander off beyond luncheon time; but he did not come. The three boys, however, a less welcome sight, had recollected that there was something forward besides fishing; and came strolling along through the trees towards the tablecloth. Preston was stopped to speak to his mother; the other two approached Daisy.
"Hello!" said Ransom, "here we are! now where's everybody else? I'm furious as a lion."
"A hungry lion," said Alexander Fish. "I wish we had got some fish for the people to cook. That's fun. I tell you, Ransom, it's fun to see the work they make with it."
"Fish is no count,Ithink," said Ransom. "It's only good to catch. I can stand a lobster salad, though. But I can't stand long without something. What's the use of waiting? They aren't coming back yonder till night. They haven't stirred yet."
Ransom's eyes indicated the party on the island. And acting upon his announced opinion, Ransom, paid his respects in a practical form, not to cold chicken and bread, but to a dish of cream cakes which stood conveniently near. And having eaten one, in three mouthfuls, he stretched out his hand and took another. Happily then some meringues attracted his attention; and he stood with a cream cake in one hand and a meringue in the other, taking them alternately or both together. The meringues began to disappear fast. Daisy warned him that the only dish of those delicacies in all the entertainment was the one into which he was making such inroads. Ransom paid her no heed and helped himself to another.
"Ransom, that is not fair," said his sister. "There are no more but those, and you will have them all gone. Just look, now, how the dish looks!"
"How the dish looks!" said Ransom mockingly. "None of your business."
"It is not right. Don't Ransom!" Daisy said, as his hand was extended for a fourth meringue.
"Want 'em for yourself?" said Ransom sneeringly. "I say, Alexander—here's a game! Here's something just fit for a man's luncheon in a summer day—something nice and light and nourishing. Here's a lark pie—I know what it is, for I saw Joanna making it. Now we'll have this and be off."
"You must not, Ransom," Daisy urged anxiously. But Ransom seized the pie from its place and proceeded to cut into it, seeing that nobody was near to hinder him.
"Ransom, you ought not to do it," pleaded Daisy. "You ought to wait your turn. You are worse than Fido."
"Am I?" said Ransom fiercely. "Take that! Mind your own affairs, and let mine alone. You are not queen here yet, if you think you are."
A tolerably smart box on the ear was the accompaniment to this speech. Nobody was near. Alexander, after joining his friend in a meringue or two with a cream cake, not feeling quite comfortable in the connection, had moved off. So did Ransom now, but he carried his pie with him and called the other two boys to bear him company in making lunch of it. Preston was much too gentlemanly a fellow to take part even of a lark pie in such circumstances; he walked off in disdain, leaving Ransom and Alexander to do what they liked. And they liked the pie so well that I am bound to say nothing of it remained very soon excepting the dish. Even the bones were swallowed by Fido.
Daisy was left alone under the tree with her occupation gone; for Fido was after the lark bones. Her ear rang a few minutes from the application of Ransom's hand; but that effect had passed off long before Daisy's mind was quieted. For gentle as she was, Daisy was a little lady who had a very deep and particular sense of personal dignity; she felt wronged as well as hurt. Her father and mother never indulged in that method of punishment; and if they had, Ransom's hand was certainly not another one to inflict it.
Daisy was quite as much stung by the insult as by the unkindness; but she felt both. She felt both so much that she was greatly discomposed. Her watch over the feast was entirely forgotten; luckily Fido had gone off with his master, and chickens were no longer in immediate danger. Daisy rubbed away first one tear and then another, feeling a sort of bitter fire hot at her heart; and then she began to be dissatisfied at finding herself so angry. This would not do; anger was something she had no business with; how could she carry her Lord's message, or do anything to serve him, in such a temper? It would not do; but there it was, offended dignity and pride, hot at her heart. Nobody would have thought perhaps that Daisy was proud; but you never can tell what is in a person's heart till it is tried; and then the kinds of pride are various. It does not follow because you have none of one sort that you have not plenty of another sort. However, finding this fire at her heart quite too much for her to manage, Daisy went away from her watching-place; crept away among the trees without any one's observing her; till she had put some distance between her and the party, and found a further shelter from them in a big moss-grown rock and large tree. There was a bed of moss, soft and brown, on the other side of the rock; and there Daisy fell down on her knees and began to remember—"Thou therefore endure hardship, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ."