“What do you mean by a Sunday song?”

“I mean”—­Daisy was on dangerous ground, and she knew it,—­“I mean, one of those songs that God likes to hear people sing on his day.”

“Who is to be judge?” said Mrs. Randolph,—­“you or I?”

“Mamma,” said Daisy, “I will do everything else in the world you tell me!”

“You will have to do everything else and this too.  Isn’t there a commandment about children obeying their mothers?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That is the very first commandment I mean you shall obey,” said Mrs. Randolph, rousing herself enough to bring one foot to the floor.  “You have no business to think whether a thing is right or wrong, that I order you to do; if I order it, that makes it right; and anybody but a fool would tell you so.  You will sing that song from the ’Camp in Silesia’ for me next Sunday evening, or I will whip you, Daisy—­you may depend upon it.  I have done it before, and I will again; and you know I do not make believe.  Now go to your father.”

“Where is he, mamma?” said Daisy, with a perceptible added paleness in her cheek.

“I don’t know.  In the library, I suppose.”

To the library Daisy went, with trembling steps, in great uncertainty what she was to expect from her father.  It was likely enough that he would say the same as her mother, and insist on the act of submission to be gone through next Sunday; but Daisy had an inward consciousness that her father was likely to come to a point with her sooner than that.  It came even sooner than she expected.

Mr. Randolph was pacing up and down the library when Daisy slowly opened the door.  No one else was there.  He stopped when she came in, and stood looking at her as she advanced towards him.

“Daisy, you disobeyed me last night.”

“Yes, papa,—­but—­”

“I have but one answer for that sort of thing,” said Mr. Randolph, taking a narrow ruler from the library table.  “Give me your hand!”

Daisy gave it, with a very vague apprehension of what he was about to do.  The sharp, stinging stroke of the ruler the next moment upon her open palm, made her understand very thoroughly.  It drew from her one cry of mixed pain and terror; but after that first forced exclamation Daisy covered her face with her other hand and did not speak again.  Tears, that she could not help, came plentifully; for the punishment was sufficiently severe, and it broke her heart that her father should inflict it; but she stood perfectly still, only for the involuntary wincing that was beyond her control, till her hand was released and the ruler was thrown down.  Heart and head bowed together then, and Daisy crouched down on the floor where she stood, unable either to stand or to move a step away.

“There!  That account’s settled!” said Mr. Randolph as he flung down his ruler.  And the next moment his hands came softly about Daisy and lifted her from the floor and placed her on his knee; and his arms were wrapped tenderly round her.  Daisy almost wished he had let her alone; it seemed to her that her sorrow was more than she could bear.