A servant of
Jesus."
"Then, what?"
"Then, papa, if I am, and you are not, — wouldn't you perhaps
not think about those rules as I must think of them?"
"You mean that our thoughts would disagree?"
"Papa — they might."
"What shall we do, then, Daisy?"
Daisy looked wistfully and somewhat sadly at him. There was
more weight of thought under the little brow than he liked to
see there. This would not do; yet matters must be settled.
"Do you want to be a different little person from what you
have been, Daisy, hitherto?"
"I don't know, papa — I think so."
"How do you wish to be different?"
"I can't tell, papa. I might have to be."
"I want you just as you are, Daisy."
Mr. Randolph stooped his head down again to the too thoughtful
little face. Daisy clasped her arms around his neck, and held
him close. It was only by her extraordinary self-command that
she kept from tears; when he raised his head her eyes were
perfectly dry.
"Will you be my good little Daisy — and let me do the thinking
for you?" said Mr. Randolph, tenderly.
"Papa — I _can't_."
"I will not have you different from what I like you, Daisy."
"Then, papa, what shall I do?"
"Obey me, and be satisfied with that.
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