“I should only make it a constraint for them, Daisy.  I do not think they will want anything but the strawberries—­especially if you look at them.”

“But mamma is not here to speak to them either, papa.”

“You think somebody must speak to them, eh?  I don’t think I can make speeches, Daisy,” said Mr. Randolph, stretching himself at ease in a chaise longue.  “But perhaps I may step down and look at them by and by, my dear.”

There was no more to be done, Daisy knew.  She went slowly off over the grounds, meditating whether the people would be satisfied with so very at-arms’-length an entertainment.  Would this draw the poor nearer to the rich? or the rich nearer to the poor?  Daisy had an instinctive, delicate sense of the want, which she set herself to do the best her little self could to supply.  “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you”—­that sweet and most perfect rule of high breeding was moving her now; and already the spirit of another rule, which in words she did not yet know, was beginning to possess her heart in its young discipleship; she was ready “to do good to all men, even as she had opportunity.”

She went slowly back to the table.  Nobody come yet.  Joanna was there, putting some last touches.  Suddenly a new idea struck Daisy, as she saw what a long table it was.

“Joanna—­there must be somebody else to wait.  Sam can never do it all.”

“He’ll have to.  James is busy, and Hiram.  Sam’s all that can be spared; and that’s as much as ever.”

“But I must have more, Joanna.  Can’t some of the maids come?”

“To wait?—­they wouldn’t, Miss Daisy.”

“Yes they would, Joanna.  You must make them, Joanna.  Send Maria and Ophelia down here, and I’ll tell them what I want of them.  And quick, Joanna; and don’t you tell them, please, what I want.”

“I hope you’ll grow up to marry the President, some day,” said Joanna, walking off; “you could help him if he got puzzled!”

Poor Daisy almost felt as if she had the affairs of a nation on her hands, when she saw Mr. and Mrs. Stilton, dressed in their best, coming near through the trees.  But the spirit of kindness was so thoroughly at work in Daisy, that it made her reception of her guests just what it ought to be, and she was delighted a few minutes after to see that their eyes were kindling with gratification.  Logan looked at the table as if he had some right to take an interest in it; the hay-makers were open-mouthed; the women in a flutter of ribands and propriety; and the various people who had come upon the ground with doubtful expectancy, sat down to table proud and gay.  It was a pretty sight! and prettier was the sight of little Daisy perched up at one end of the board and with tremulous fingers filling cups of coffee and ordering cups of tea.

“Miss Daisy,” said Mrs. Stilton, “it’s too much trouble for you to fill all them cups—­sha’n’t I come there, and take the responsibility? if you would delegate me.”