Mr. Randolph saw the flush of hope and disappointment on Daisy’s face and the witness of another kind in her eyes; though with her characteristic steady self-control she neither moved nor spoke, and suffered the tears to come no farther.  Dr. Sandford saw it too, but he said nothing.  Mr. Randolph spoke.

“Is that decision on account of Daisy’s supposed delinquency in that matter?”

“Of course—­” Mrs. Randolph answered drily.

“Can you explain it, Daisy?” her father asked, gravely and kindly drawing her up to his side.  Daisy struggled with some thought.

“Papa,” she said softly, “will mamma be satisfied to punish me and let it go so?”

“Let it go how?”

“Would she be satisfied with this punishment, I mean, and not make me say anything more about it?”

“I should not.  I intend to know the whole.  Can you explain it?”

“I think I can, papa,” Daisy said, but with a troubled unwillingness, her father saw.  He saw too that it was not the unwillingness of a troubled conscience.

“Dr. Sandford, if you are willing to take the trouble of stopping without the certainty of taking Daisy back with you, I have some hopes that the result may be satisfactory to all parties.”

“Au revoir, then,” said the doctor, and he strode off.

“Now, Daisy,” said her father, still having his arms about her—­“what is it?” Mrs. Randolph stood by the table and looked coldly down at the group.  Daisy was under great difficulty; that was plain.

“Papa—­I wish Ransom could tell you!”

“Where is the boy?”

Mrs. Randolph rang the bell.

“It is no use, mamma; he has gone off with Preston somewhere.”

“That is a mere subterfuge, Daisy, to gain time.”

Daisy certainly looked troubled enough, and timid also; though her meek look at her mother did not plead guilty to this accusation.

“Speak, Daisy; the telling whatever there is to tell must come upon you,” her father said.  “Your business is to explain the charge Ransom has brought against you.”

All Daisy’s meditations had not brought her to the point of knowing what to say in this conjuncture.  She hesitated.

“Speak, Daisy!” her father said peremptorily.

“Papa, they had put me—­Eloise and Theresa Stanfield—­they had put me to watch the things.”

“What things?”

“The dinner—­the things that had been taken out of the hampers and were spread on the tablecloth, where we dined.”

“Watch for fear the fishes would carry them off?”

“No, sir, but Fido; Ransom’s dog; he was running about.”

“Oh!  Well?—­”

“I kept Fido off, but I could not keep Ransom—­” Daisy said low.  “He was taking things.”

“And why should he not?” said Mrs. Randolph coldly.  “Why should not Ransom take a sandwich, or a peach, if he wanted one? or anything else, if he was hungry.  There was enough provision for everybody.”