Randolph had a fresh talk with his wife; the end
of which was that he gave Daisy leave to do what she liked in
the matter of Molly Skelton; and was rewarded on the spot by
seeing the pink tinge which instantly started into the pale
cheeks.
No lack of energy had Daisy for the rest of that day. She went
off first to see what was the condition of her rose-bush;
pretty fair; lying by the heels seemed to agree with it quite
well. Then the pony chaise was ordered, and a watering-pot of
water again; much to the boy's disgust who was to carry it;
and Daisy took her dinner with quiet satisfaction. So soon as
the afternoon had become pleasantly cool, Daisy's driving
gloves and hat went on, the chaise was summoned, and rose-bush
and all she set forth on her expedition. Mr. Randolph watched
her off; acknowledging that certainly for the present the
doctor was right; whether in the future Mrs. Randolph would
prove to have been right also, he was disagreeably uncertain.
Still, he was not quite sure that he wished Daisy anything
other than she was.
Troubled by no fears or prognostications, meanwhile, the pony-
chaise and its mistress went on their way. No, Daisy had no
fears. She did doubt what Molly's immediate reception of her
advances might be; her first experience bade her doubt; but
the spirit of love in her little heart was overcoming; it
poured over Molly a flood of sunny affections and purposes, in
the warmth and glow of which the poor cripple's crabbedness
and sourness of manner and temper were quite swallowed up and
lost.
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