Daisy kept silence.

“Well! why don’t you speak?  Answer me.”

“Mamma, I don’t know how to answer you,” said Daisy, flushing for an instant.  Her mother’s eyes took note of her.

“I shall not ask you a third time, Daisy.”

“Mamma,” said the child low,—­“I do not think you are what I mean by a Christian.”

“You do not.  I supposed that.  Now you will go on and tell me what you mean by ‘a Christian.’”

“It means,” said Daisy, her eyes filling with tears, “it means a person who loves the Lord Jesus and obeys him.”

“I hope you are gratified, Mr. Randolph,” said the lady, “with this specimen of the new Christianity.  Dutiful and respectful are happily united; along with a pleasant mixture of modesty.  What do you expect me to do, Daisy, with this announcement of yours?”

“Nothing, mamma,” said Daisy faintly.

“I suppose you think that my Christianity must accommodate itself to yours?  Did you expect that?” “No, mamma.”

“It would be very foolish of you; for the fact will be the other way.  Yours must accommodate itself to mine.”

“I only wanted you to know what mine is, mamma.”

“Yours is what mine is, Daisy.  What I think right for you, that you are to do.  I will not hear a whimper from you again about what you are—­do you understand?  Not again.  I have listened to you this time, but this is the last.  If I hear another syllable like this, about what you are or your Christianity, I shall know how to chastise it out of you.  You are nothing at all, but my Daisy; you are a Jewess, if I choose to have it so.”

Mr. Randolph made an uneasy movement; but the lady’s white fingers flew in and out of her tetting-work without regarding him.

“What do you want to do, that you are asking my permission in this roundabout way?  What do you want to do, that you think will not please me?”

Daisy at first hesitated; then Mr. Randolph was surprised to hear her say boldly—­

“I am afraid, a great many things, mamma.”

“Well, you know now what to expect.  Mr. Randolph,” said the lady letting fall her tetting-work, “if you please, I will go home.  The sun will only be getting hotter, if I stay.”

Mr. Randolph stood behind Daisy, bending down and holding her face in his two hands.

“What would you like me to send you from home, Daisy?”

“Nothing, papa.”

“Would you like to have Preston come and see you?”

“If he likes to come, papa.”

“He has been only waiting for my permission, and if you say so, I will give him yours.”

“He may come.  I should like to see him very much.”

“You may have books too, now, Daisy.  Do you not want some books?”

“I should like ‘Sandford and Merton,’ papa; and when Preston comes I’ll tell him what else I want.”

Mr. Randolph stood still, smoothing down the hair on each side of the little round head, while Mrs. Randolph was adjusting herself for her drive.