"You have no business to think whether a thing
is right or wrong, that I order you to do; if I order it, that
makes it right; and anybody but a fool would tell you so. You
will sing that song from the 'Camp in Silesia' for me next
Sunday evening, or I will whip you, Daisy — you may depend
upon it. I have done it before, and I will again; and you know
I do not make believe. Now go to your father."
"Where is he, mamma?" said Daisy, with a perceptible added
paleness in her cheek.
"I don't know. In the library, I suppose."
To the library Daisy went, with trembling steps, in great
uncertainty what she was to expect from her father. It was
likely enough that he would say the same as her mother, and
insist on the act of submission to be gone through next
Sunday; but Daisy had an inward consciousness that her father
was likely to come to a point with her sooner than that. It
came even sooner than she expected.
Mr. Randolph was pacing up and down the library when Daisy
slowly opened the door. No one else was there. He stopped when
she came in, and stood looking at her as she advanced towards
him.
"Daisy, you disobeyed me last night."
"Yes, papa, — but —"
"I have but one answer for that sort of thing," said Mr.
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