“How do you mean?”

The doctor rose here to give his chair to Mrs. Randolph, who stepped out through the library window.  He fetched another for himself and went on.

“She was in the middle of the road, her chaise loaded with baskets and greenhouse plants, and with a general distribution of garden tools between herself and her outrider.  All in the middle of the road at a stand-still—­chaise and pony and all,—­and Daisy herself in particular.  I found it was an interrupted expedition, and invited Daisy to take a ride with me; which she did, and I got at the rationale of the affair.  And I come now to make the request, as her physician, not as her friend, that her expeditions may be as little interfered with as possible.  Let her energies work.  The very best thing for her is that they should find something to work upon, and receive no interruption.”

“What interrupted her this afternoon?”

“Conscience—­as I understand it.”

“There is no dealing with Daisy’s conscience, doctor,” said Mr. Randolph with a smile.  “What that says, Daisy feels herself bound to do.”

“Do not burden her conscience then,” said the doctor.  “Not just now—­till she gets stronger.”

“Where was she going this afternoon?” Mrs. Randolph asked in her calm voice.

“On an errand of the most Utopian benevolence”—­

“Having what for its object?”

“A miserable old crippled creature, who lives in a poor cottage about half a mile from your gate.”

“What was Daisy desiring to do, doctor?”

“Carry some comfort to this forlorn thing, I believe; whom nobody else thinks of comforting.”

“Do you know what shape the comfort was to take?”

“I think,” said the doctor,—­“I am not quite sure, but I think, it was a rose bush.”

Mr. Randolph looked at his wife and straightened himself up to a sitting posture.

“And what hindered her, Dr. Sandford?”

“I think, some understanding that she had not liberty to go on.”

“Very proper in Daisy,” said Mrs. Randolph.

“That is your child who is wanting in docility,” remarked Mr. Randolph.

“She might have remembered my orders before she got so far,”—­said the lady.

“I wish you would change the orders,” said Dr. Sandford boldly.

“Not even to oblige you, doctor,” said Mrs. Randolph.  “Daisy has an idea that the companions who are not fit for her are precisely the ones whom she should cultivate.”

“I think Daisy would state the question differently, however,” Mr. Randolph remarked.

“She has a tinge of the wildest fanaticism,” Mrs. Randolph went on, dropping her work and facing the doctor.  “Wherever there are rags and dirt, there, by force of contrast, Daisy thinks it is her business to go.  This is a miserable place, I suppose, that she was aiming for this afternoon—­is it not?”