"If you please, Mr. Lamb," she
said, "will you hear what this little girl has to say? — while
I look at these."
"What do you want, child?"
The answer came very low, but though Daisy did not want to
listen she could not help hearing.
"Mother wants a pound of ham, sir."
"Have you brought the money for the flour?"
"No, sir — mother'll send it."
"We don't cut our hams any more," said the storekeeper. "Can't
sell any less than a whole one — and that's always cash.
There! Go, child — I can't cut one for you."
Daisy looked after the little ragged frock as it went out of
the door. The extreme mystery of some people being rich and
some people poor, struck her anew, and perhaps something in
her look as it came back to the storekeeper made him say, —
"They're very poor folks, Miss Randolph — the mother's sickly,
and I should only lose my money. They came and got some flour
of me yesterday without paying for it — and it's necessary to
put a stop to that kind of thing at once. Don't you think that
basket'll suit, ma'am?"
Baskets? and what meant those words which had been over and
over in Daisy's mind for the few days past? — "Whatsoever ye
would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.
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