There was silence, and it promised to last some time.  Mr. Randolph would not hurry her:  and Daisy was thinking, “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” “If ye love me”—­

“Papa,”—­said she at last, very slowly, and pausing between her words,—­“would you be satisfied,—­if I should disobey you—­for a hundred dollars?”

This time it was Mr. Randolph that did not answer, and the longer he waited the more the answer did not come.  He put Daisy gently off his knee and rose at last without speaking.  Daisy went out upon the verandah and sat down on the step; and there the stars seemed to say to her—­“If a man love me, he will keep my words.”  They were shining very bright; so was that saying to Daisy.  She sat looking at them, forgetting all the people in the drawing-room; and though troubled enough, she was not utterly unhappy.  The reason was, she loved her King.

Somebody came behind her and took hold of her shoulders.  “My dear little Daisy!” said the voice of Preston, “I wish you were an India-rubber ball, that I might chuck you up to the sky and down again a few times!”

“Why?  I don’t think it would be nice.”

“Why?—­why because you want shaking; you are growing dull,—­yes, absolutely you are getting heavy! you, little Daisy! of all people in the world.  It won’t do.”

“I don’t think such an exercise would benefit me,” said Daisy.

“I’d find something else then.  Daisy, Daisy,” said he, shaking her shoulders gently, “this religious foolery is spoiling you.  Don’t you go and make yourself stupid.  Why I don’t know you.  What is all this ridiculous stuff?  You aren’t yourself.”

“What do you want me to do, Preston?” said Daisy standing before him, not without a certain childish dignity.  It was lost on him.

“I want you to be my own little Daisy,” said he coaxingly.  “Come!—­say you will, and give up these outlandish notions you have got from some old woman or other.  What is it they want you to do?—­sing?—­Come, promise you will.  Promise me!”

“I will sing any day but Sunday.”

“Sunday?  Now Daisy!  I’m ashamed of you.  Why I never heard such nonsense.  Nobody has such notions but low people.  It isn’t sensible.  Give it up, Daisy, or I shall not know how to love you.”

“Good night, Preston”—­

“Daisy, Daisy! come and kiss me and be good.”

“Good night”—­repeated Daisy without turning; and she walked off.

It half broke June’s heart that night to see that the child’s eyes were quietly dropping tears all the while she was getting undressed.  Preston’s last threat had cut very close.  But Daisy said not a word; and when, long after June had left her, she got into bed and lay down, it was not Preston’s words but the reminder of the stars that was with her and making harmony among all her troubled thoughts—­“If a man love me, he will keep my words.”

CHAPTER XIV.