"
"I cannot lift that big Bible, papa."
Mr. Randolph rose up from the sofa, went to the shelves where
it lay, and brought the great Bible to the library table. Then
stood and watched Daisy, who kneeled in a chair by the table
and busily turned over the large leaves, her little face very
wise and intent, her little hands small to manage the big book
before her. Had such a child and such a book anything to do
with each other, Mr. Randolph thought. But Daisy presently
found her place, and looking up at him drew a little back that
her father might see it. He stooped over Daisy and read, "In
everything give thanks."
"Do you see it, papa?"
"Yes."
"Then here is another place — I know where to find it —"
She turned over more leaves, stopped again, and Mr. Randolph
stooped and read, "Giving thanks always for all things unto
God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."
Mr. Randolph read, and went and threw himself on his sofa
again. Daisy came beside him. A wistful earnestness in the one
face; a careless sort of embarrassment on the other.
"You are led astray, little Daisy, by a common mistake of
ignorant readers. You fancy that these words are to be taken
literally — whereas they mean simply that we should cultivate
a thankful spirit.
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