“Is your heart almost broken?” said Mr. Randolph softly, as he felt rather than heard the heavy sobs so close to him.  But to speak was an impossibility, and so he knew, and did not repeat his question; only he held Daisy fast, and it was in his arms that she wept out the first overcharged fulness of her heart.  It was a long time before she could quiet those heavy sobs; and Mr. Randolph sat quite still holding her.

“Is your heart quite broken?” he whispered again, when he judged that she could speak.  Daisy did not speak, however.  She turned, and rising upon her knees, threw her arms round her father’s neck and hid her soft little head there.  If tears came Mr. Randolph could not tell; he thought his neck was wet with them.  He let her alone for a little while.

“Daisy——­”

“Papa——­”

“Can you talk to me?”

Daisy sank back into her former position.  Her father put his lips down to hers for a long kiss.

“That account is settled,” said he; “do you understand?  Now Daisy, tell me what was the matter last night.”

“Papa, it was Sunday night.”

“Yes.  Well?”

“And that song—­that mamma wanted me to sing”—­Daisy spoke very low,—­“was out of an opera; and it was good for any other day, but not for Sunday.”

“Why not?”

Daisy hesitated, and at last said, “It had nothing to do with Sunday, papa.”

“But obedience is not out of place on Sunday, is it?”

“No, papa,—­except——­”

“Well, except what?”

“Papa, if God tells me to do one thing, and you tell me another, what shall I do?” Daisy had hid her face in her father’s breast.

“What counter command have you to plead in this case?”

“Papa, may I shew it to you?”

“Certainly.”

She got down off his lap, twinkling away a tear hastily, and went to the bookcase for the big Bible aforesaid.  Mr. Randolph seeing what she was after and that she could not lift it, went to her help and brought it to the library table.  Daisy turned over the leaves with fingers that trembled yet, hastily, hurriedly; and paused and pointed to the words that her father read.

“Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath day.”

Mr. Randolph read them and the words following and the words that went before; then he turned from them and drew Daisy to her place in his arms again.

“Daisy, there is another commandment there.  ’Honour thy father and thy mother.’  Is there not?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Is not one command as good as the other?”

“Papa, I think not,” said Daisy.  “One command tells me to obey you,—­the other tells me to obey God.”

Childish as the answer was, there was truth in it; and Mr. Randolph shifted his ground.

“Your mother will not be satisfied without your obeying the lesser command—­nor shall I!”

Silence.

“She will expect you to do next Sunday evening what you refused to do last evening.”