The people gathered, bright and fresh, around the supper table, all seeming to have forgotten their fatigues and frights; and every face looked smiling or gracious.  The day was over, the river was crossed; the people were hungry; and the most dainty and perfectly arranged supply of refreshments stood on the board.  Coffee and tea steamed out their grateful announcements; ice cream stood in red and white pyramids of firmness; oysters and cold meats and lobster salad offered all that hungry people could desire; and everybody was in a peculiar state of gratified content and expectation.  Daisy was no exception.  She had let slip her momentary trouble about the Egyptian spoon; and in her quiet corner, quite unnoticed as she thought, looked at the bright scene and enjoyed it.  She liked being under the doctor’s care too, and his care of her was very thoughtful and kind.  He did not forget the little quiet mouse at his elbow; but after he had properly attended to the other people whose claims came first, he served her nicely with whatever was good for her.  Was Daisy going to omit her usual giving of thanks?  She thought of her mother’s interference with a moment’s flash of hesitancy; but resolved to go on just as usual.  She did not think she would be noticed, everybody was so busy; and at any rate there was a burden of gladness in her little heart that must speak.  While the talking and laughing and click of knives and forks was thick all around her, Daisy’s little head bent in a moment’s oblivion of it all behind her hand.

She had raised her head and just taken her fork in her fingers when she heard her own name.  She looked up.

“Daisy—­” said her mother quietly—­“come here.”

Daisy left her seat and went round to her mother’s side.

“You may go up stairs,” said Mrs. Randolph.

“Mamma?”—­

“Go—­and remain till I send for you.”

Daisy slipped away quietly, before anybody could notice that she was gone or going.  Then slowly went up the stairs and along the passages to her own room.  It was empty and dark, except for the moonlight without; June had not expected her to be there, and had not made preparation.  Daisy went and kneeled down in her old place by her window; her eyes filled as full of tears as they could hold.  She bent her little head to brush them away, but they came again.  Daisy was faint and tired; she wanted her supper very much; and she had enjoyed the supper-table very much; it was a great mortification to exchange it for the gloom and silence of her moonlit room.  She had not a bit of strength to keep her spirits up.  Daisy felt weak.  And what was the matter?  Only—­that she had, against her mother’s pleasure, repeated her acknowledgment of the hand that had given her all good things.  How many good things that day!  And was she not to make such acknowledgment any more?  Ought she to please her mother in this?  Had she really done wrong?  Daisy could not tell; she thought not; she could not wish she had not done what she did; but at the same time it was very miserable to have Mrs. Randolph at odds with her on such a point as this.