They went in to dinner just then and the conversation stopped.  But though not talked to, Daisy was looked after; and when she had forgotten all about dinner and was thinking mournfully of what was going on at home, a slice of roast beef or a nice peach would come on her plate with a word from the doctor—­“You are to eat that, Daisy”—­and though he said no more, somehow Daisy always chose to obey him.  At last they went into the drawing-room again and were drinking coffee.  Daisy was somewhat comforted; she thought Dr. Sandford did not act as if there were anything very dreadful the matter at home.

“Daisy,” said the doctor, “you have done work for me to-day—­would you object to be paid?”

Daisy looked up smiling; it depended on what the pay might be, she thought; but she said nothing.

“Would it be violently against your principles?”

“I do not want pay, Dr. Sandford.”

“Not if I were to offer to give you a sight of those little baskets on the frond of the Marchantia?”

Daisy’s face all changed; but she said in the quietest manner, “Can you do that, Dr. Sandford?”

“Come with me.”

He held out his hand, which Daisy willingly took, and they went up stairs together.  Just short of her room the doctor stopped, and turned into his own.  This was a very plain apartment; there was no beauty of furniture, though it struck Daisy there was a great deal of something.  There were boxes, and cabinets, and shelves full of books and boxes, and bookcases, and one or two tables.  Yet it was not a pretty-looking room, like the others in Mrs. Sandford’s house.  Daisy was a little disappointed.  The doctor however gave her a chair, and then brought one of the unlikely deal boxes to the table and opened it.  Daisy forgot everything.  There appeared a polished, very odd brass machine, which the doctor took out and spent some time in adjusting.  Daisy patiently looked on.

“Do you know what this is, Daisy?”

“No, sir.”

“It is a microscope.  And looking through this, you will see what you could not see with your two eyes alone; there are some strong magnifying glasses here—­and I found to-day some plants of Marchantia growing in a sheltered place.  Here is one of the baskets for you—­”

“Is it on that bit of green leaf?”

“Yes, but you can see nothing there.  Try this view.”

[Illustration]

He stood back and helped Daisy to take a kneeling position in her chair, so that her eye could reach the eye-piece of the microscope.  Daisy looked, took her eye away to give a wondering glance of inquiry at her friend’s face, and then applied it to the microscope again; a pink hue of delight actually spreading over her poor little pale cheeks.  It was so beautiful, so wonderful.  Again Daisy took her eye away to examine out of the glass the coarse little bit of green leaf that lay upon the stand; and looked back at the show in the microscope with a bewitched mind.  It seemed as if she could never weary of looking from one to the other.  The doctor bade her take her own time, and Daisy took a good deal.