"
"And the Bible, papa?"
"You are quite growing an old woman a good while before the
time."
Daisy kissed him with good childlike kisses, laying her little
head in his neck and clasping her arms around him; for all
that, her heart was busy yet.
"Papa," she said, "what do you think is right for me to do?"
"Thinking exhausts me, Daisy. It is too hot to-day for such an
exercise."
Daisy drew back and looked at him, with one hand resting on
his shoulder. She did not dare urge any more in words; her
look spoke her anxious, disappointed questioning of her
father's meaning. Perhaps he did not care to meet such a gaze
of inquiry, for he pulled her down again in his arms.
"I do not want you to be an old woman."
"But, papa — that is not the thing."
"I will not have it, Daisy."
"Papa," she said with a small laugh, "what shall I do to help
it? I do not know how I came to be an old woman?"
"Go off and play with Nora Dinwiddie. Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, papa — except my hat and gloves."
"Do not think any more to-day. I will think for you by and by.
But, Daisy, why should you and I set ourselves up to be better
than other people?"
"How, papa?"
"Do you know anybody else that lives up to your views on the
subject of thanksgiving?"
"Oh, yes, papa.
Pages:
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552