“I don’t believe it.  Nonsense!  All that is not misery to such people, unless you make it so by shewing them something different.  Marble tables are not the thing for them, Daisy.”

“Marble tables!” echoed Daisy.

“Nor fuchsias and geraniums either.  That old thing’s old flowers do just as well.”

Daisy was silent.  She could have answered this.  Preston went on.

“She won’t be any better with her garden full of roses and myrtles, than she is with her sunflowers now.  What do you expect to do, little Daisy?”

“I know what I would like if I were in her place,” said Daisy.

“You,—­but she is not you.  She has not your tastes.  Do you mean to carry her a silver cup and fork, Daisy?  You would certainly like that, if you were in her place.  Dear little Daisy, don’t you be a mad philosopher.”

But Daisy had not been thinking of silver cups and forks, and she was not misled by this argument.

“Daisy, do you see you have been under a mistake?”

“No, Preston,”—­she said looking up at him.

“Daisy, do you think it is right for you to go into houses and among people where my uncle and aunt do not wish you to go?  You know they do not wish it, though they have given consent perhaps because you were so set upon it.”

Daisy glanced behind her, at the windows of the library; for they were at the back entrance of the house; and then seizing Preston’s hand and saying, “Come with me,” she drew him down the steps and over the grass till she reached one of the garden seats under the trees, out of hearing of any one.  There they sat down; Preston curious, Daisy serious and even doubtful.

“Preston”—­she began with all her seriousness upon her,—­“I wish I had the book here, but I will tell you.  When the Lord Jesus comes again in glory, and all the angels with him, he will have all the people before him, and he will separate them into two sets.  One will be on the right and one on the left.  One set will be the people that belong to him, and the other set will be the people that do not belong to him.  Then he will welcome the first set, and bless them, because they have done things to the poor and miserable such as they would have liked to have done to themselves.  And he will say—­’Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.’” Daisy’s eyes were full of water by this time.

“So you are working to gain heaven, Daisy?” said Preston, who did not know how to answer her.

“O no!” said the child.  “I don’t mean that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No,—­that would be doing it for oneself, not for the Lord Jesus”—­said Daisy gravely looking at Preston.

“Then I don’t see what you mean by your story.”

“I mean only, that Jesus likes to have us do to other people what we would want in their place.”

“Suppose you were in my aunt and uncle’s place—­do you not think you would like to have a little daughter regard their wishes?”