“What is the matter, my dear?  What are you doing?” Daisy started.

“We are studying English, history, aunt Gary.”

“History, my dear?  And what is all this muss, and these red and black spots? does your mamma allow this in the library?”

“Just the place to study history, I am sure, mamma,” said Preston; “and you cannot have less muss than this where people are fighting.  But I really don’t know what you mean, ma’am; there cannot be a cleaner map, except for the blood shed on it.”

“Blood?” said Mrs. Gary.  “My dear”—­as Preston burst into another laugh—­“you must not let him tease you.”

Daisy’s look was so very unruffled and gentle that perhaps it put Mrs. Gary in mind of another subject.

“Did you know, Daisy, that I had robbed you of your old-fashioned spoon?”

“I found it was not among my things,” said Daisy.

“My dear, your mother thought you would not value it; and it was very desirable to my collection.  I took it with her consent.”

“I am willing you should have it, aunt Gary.”

“Were you very angry, my dear, when you found where it had gone?”

“I am not angry now, aunt Gary.”

Certainly Daisy was not; yet something in the child’s look or manner made the lady willing to drop the subject.  Its very calm gentleness did not testify to anything like unconcern about the matter; and if there had been concern, Mrs. Gary was not desirous to awaken it again.  She kissed Daisy, said she was a good girl, and walked off.  Daisy wondered if her aunt had a fancy for trilobites.

“What was all that about, Daisy?” Preston asked.

“O never mind—­let us go on with William the Conqueror.”

“What spoon of yours has she got?”

“My Egyptian spoon.”

“That old carved thing with the duck’s bill?”

“Yes.  Now, Preston, what comes next?”

“Didn’t you say she could not have it?”

“No matter what I said, if I say that she can have it now.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“Preston, that has nothing to do with William the Conqueror.  Please let us go on.”

“Daisy, I want to know.  Did you give it to her?”

“I am willing she should have it.  Now, Preston, go on?”

“But I say, did you give my mother that spoon?”

“Preston,” said Daisy, “do you think it is quite proper to question me in that manner about what you see I do not wish to have you know?”

Preston laughed, though he looked vexed, and kissed her, nobody being in the library; he was too big a boy to have done it if anybody had been looking on.  And after that he played the historico-geographical play with her for a very long time; finding it, with Daisy’s eagerness and freshness, a very good play indeed.  Only he would persist in calling every cause of war, every disputed succession, every rivalry of candidates, an Egyptian spoon.  Daisy could not prevent him.  She had a very happy morning; and Dr. Sandford was well satisfied with her bright face when he came, towards night, and carried, her up stairs again.