“Is she unwell?” Mr. Randolph asked in a startled tone.

“No, sir.”  June’s tone was dry.  Mr. Randolph marched at once to the room in question, where Daisy was eating her bread and milk.

“What are you doing, Daisy?”

“Papa!”—­said the child with a start; and then quietly—­“I am taking my supper.”

“Were you not at the table down stairs?”

“Yes, papa.”

“How came you not to have your supper there?”

“I had to come away, papa.”

“Are you not well, Daisy?” said Mr. Randolph tenderly, bending down over her chair.

“Yes, papa—­quite well.”

“Then why did you come away?”

Daisy’s spoon lay still in her fingers and her eyes reddened.

“Mamma sent me.”

If the child was to have any supper at all, Mr. Randolph saw, he must forbear his questioning.  He rose up from leaning over her chair.

“Go on, Daisy—­” he said; and he left her, but did not leave the room.  He walked up and down the floor at a little distance, while Daisy finished her bread and milk She was too much in want of it not to do that.  When it was done she got out of her chair and stood on the floor looking at her father, as gentle as a young sparrow.  He came and wheeled her chair round and sat down upon it.

“What is the matter, Daisy?”

“Mamma was displeased with me.”  The child dropped her eyes.

“What about?”

“Papa”—­said Daisy slowly, trying for words and perhaps also for self-command—­“mamma was displeased with me because—­I—­”

“What?”

“Papa—­because I did what she did not like at dinner.”

“At dinner? what was that?”

The child lifted her eyes now to her father’s face, a little wistfully.

“Papa—­don’t you know?—­I was only praying a minute.”

Mr. Randolph stretched out his arm, drew Daisy up to him, placed her on his knee, and looked down into her face.

“Did you have no supper down stairs?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you like bread and milk better than other things?”

“No, papa.”

“I met June with a great tray of supper things, and she said you would not eat them.  Why was that?”

“Papa,” said Daisy, “I thought mamma did not mean me to have those things to-night.”

“She did not forbid you?”

“No, papa.”

Mr. Randolph’s arm was round Daisy; now he wrapped both arms about her, bringing her up close to his breast, and putting down his lips to her face, he kissed her over and over, with a great tenderness.

“Have you had a pleasant day?”

“Papa, I have had a great many pleasant things,” said Daisy eagerly.  Her voice had changed and a glad tone had come into it.

“Dr. Sandford took proper care of you?”

“Papa, he is very good!” said Daisy strongly.

“I rather think he thinks you are.”