“No—­” said Daisy, looking up at him, and thinking how terrible it must be to have to encounter anger from his blue eye.

“What then, Daisy? how do you make out your position?”

Daisy did not very well like to say.  She had a certain consciousness—­or fear—­that it would not be understood, and she would be laughed at—­not openly, for Dr. Sandford was never impolite; but yet she shrunk from the cold glance of unbelief, or of derision, however well and kindly masked.  She was silent.

“Haven’t we got into a confidential position yet?” said the doctor.

“Yes, sir, but—­”

“Speak on.”

“Jesus will help us, Dr. Sandford, if we ask him.”  And tears, that were tears of deep penitence now, rushed to Daisy’s eyes.

“I do not believe, Daisy, to begin with, that you know what anger means.”

“I have been angry this morning,” said Daisy sadly.  “I am angry now, I think.”

“How do you feel when you are angry?”

“I feel wrong.  I do not want to see the person—­I feel she would be disagreeable to me, and if I spoke to her I should want to say something disagreeable.”

“Very natural,” said the doctor.

“But it is wrong.”

“If you can help it, Daisy.  I always feel disagreeable when I am angry.  I feel a little disagreeable now that you are angry.”

Daisy could not help smiling at that.

“Now suppose we go down stairs.”

“O no, sir.  O no, Dr. Sandford, please!  I am not ready—­I would rather not go down stairs to-day.  Please don’t take me!”

“To-morrow you must, Daisy.  I shall not give you any longer than till then.”

Away went Dr. Sandford to the library; kept Daisy’s counsel, and told Mrs. Randolph she was to remain in her room to-day.

“She thinks too much,” he said.  “There is too much self-introversion.”

“I know it! but what can we do?” said Mr. Randolph.  “She has been kept from books as much as possible.”

“Amusement and the society of children.”

“Ay, but she likes older society better.”

“Good morning,” said the doctor.

“Stay!  Dr. Sandford, I have great confidence in you.  I wish you would take in hand not Daisy’s foot merely but the general management of her, and give us your advice.  She has not gained, on the whole, this summer, and is very delicate.”

“Rather—­” said the doctor.  And away he went.

CHAPTER III.

Meanwhile Daisy turned away from her beautiful little ivory cathedral, and opened Mr. Dinwiddie’s Bible.  Her heart was not at all comforted yet; and indeed her talk with Dr. Sandford had rather roused her to keener discomfort.  She had confessed herself wrong, and had told him the way to get right; yet she herself, in spite of knowing the way, was not right, but very far from it.  So she felt.  Her heart was very sore for the hurt she had suffered;