I want you to
know that I am a Christian."
"Well, so are we all," said Mr. Randolph, coolly.
"No, papa, but I don't mean that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, papa, — that I belong to the Lord Jesus, and must do
what He tells me."
"What am I to understand by that, Daisy?"
"Nothing, papa; only I thought you ought to know."
"Do you understand what you are saying yourself, my child?"
"Yes, papa."
"What does it mean, Daisy?"
"Only, papa, I want you to know that I belong to the Lord
Jesus."
"Does that imply that you will not belong to me any more?"
"Oh, no, papa!"
"Why do you tell it me, then?"
"Papa, Jesus says He will be ashamed of those who are ashamed
of Him; I will not be ashamed of Him; so I want you to know
what I am."
"But, Daisy, you and I must come to an understanding about
this," said Mr. Randolph, taking a chair. "Does this
declaration mean that you are intending to be something
different from what I like to see you?"
"I do not know, papa."
"You do not! Does it mean that you are proposing to set up a
standard of action for yourself, independent of me?"
"No, papa."
"What then, Daisy?"
"Papa, I do not quite know what you mean by a _standard_.
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