"
"What things?"
"The dinner —the things that had been taken out of the hampers
and were spread on the tablecloth, where we dined."
"Watch for fear the fishes would carry them off?"
"No, sir, but Fido; Ransom's dog; he was running about."
"Oh! Well? —"
"I kept Fido off, but I could not keep Ransom —" Daisy said,
low. "He was taking things."
"And why should he not?" said Mrs. Randolph, coldly. "Why
should not Ransom take a sandwich, or a peach, if he wanted
one? or anything else, if he was hungry. There was enough
provision for everybody."
Daisy looked up at her mother, with a quick refutation of this
statement of the case in her mind, but something stayed her
lips. Mr. Randolph saw and read the look. He put his arm round
Daisy and drew her up to him, speaking with grave decision.
"Daisy, say all you have to say at once — do you hear me? and
spare neither for Ransom nor yourself. Tell all there is to be
told, without any shuffling."
"Papa, I should not have objected to his having a sandwich —
or as many as he liked. I should have thought it was proper.
But he took the meringues — and so many that the dish was left
very small; and then he carried off Joanna's lark pie, the
whole of it; and he did not mind what I said; and then, I
believe — I suppose that is what Ransom meant — I believe I
told him he was worse than Fido.
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