One day passed after another, and Daisy looked longingly for her summons home, and still she did not receive it.  Her fears and agonies were somewhat quieted; because Dr. Sandford assured her that her father was getting better; but he never said that her father was well, or that he had not been very ill.  Daisy knew that the matter had been very serious that had prevented her being at Melbourne all these days.  Her imaginings of evil were doubtful and dim; but it seemed to her that her father himself would have commanded her presence in all ordinary circumstances; and a doubt like an ice-wind sometimes swept over her little spirit, whether he could be too ill to know of her absence!  No word that could, be said would entirely comfort Daisy while this state of things lasted; and it was very well for her that she had a wise and energetic friend watching over her welfare, in the meanwhile.  If business could keep her from pining and hinder her from too much imagining, Dr. Sandford took care that she had it.  He contrived that she should indeed oversee the making of the dresses for the poor children, and it was a very great charge for Daisy.  A great responsibility; it lay on her mind for days, and gave occasion for a number of drives to Crum Elbow and to Juanita’s cottage.  Then at evening, after hearing her report progress, the doctor would take Daisy up to his room, and shew her many a wonder and beauty that little Daisy had never dreamed of before; and the friendship between the two grew closer than ever.

“Grant, you are a good fellow!” said Mrs. Sandford one night.  “I do not know what I should do with that child, if it were not for you.”

“You would do nothing.  She would not be here if it were not for me.”

“I do not suppose, however, that your care for her is dictated by a conscientious regard for that fact.  It is good of you.”

“She is my patient, Mrs. Sandford.”

“Yes, yes; impatient would be the word with some young men.”

“I am glad you do not class me with such young men.”

“Well, no child ever gave less cause for impatience, I will say that.  Nor had more.  Poor child!  How she looks at you every day when you come home!  But I suppose you doctors get hard hearts.”

Dr. Sandford’s lips curled a little into one of the smiles that Daisy liked, but he said nothing.

Daisy did look hard at her friend those days, but it was only when he came home.  So she was not expecting anything the next morning when he said to her,

“Daisy—­will you take a ride with me?”

Daisy looked up.  The doctor was sitting by the breakfast-table, poring over a newspaper.  Breakfast was done, and Daisy herself busy with a book.  So she only answered,

“If you please, Dr. Sandford.”

“Where shall we go?”

Daisy looked surprised.  “I supposed you had business, sir.”

“So I have.  I am going to visit a patient.  Perhaps you would like to make the visit with me.”