I am waiting."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"I am going to drive."
"Do you usually carry a pot of geraniums for company?"
"No, not usually," said Daisy, smiling at him.
"Well, set out the pot of geraniums, and we will have a
glorious ride, Daisy. I am going to the Fish's, to see some of
Alexander's traps; and you shall go with me."
"Oh, Preston — I am sorry; I cannot."
"Why?"
"I cannot this afternoon."
"Yes, you can, my dear little Daisy. In fact you _must_.
Consider — I shall be going away before very long, and then we
cannot take rides together. Won't you come?"
"Not now — I cannot, Preston! I have got something to do
first."
"What?"
"Something which will take me an hour or two. After that I
could go."
"Scarcely, this afternoon. Daisy, it is a long drive to the
Fish's. And they have beautiful things there, which you would
like to see, I know you would. Come! go with me — that's my
own little Daisy."
Preston was on horseback, and looked very much in earnest. He
looked very gay and handsome too, for he was well mounted, and
knew how to manage himself and his horse. He wanted to manage
Daisy too; and that was difficult. Daisy would have been
tempted, and would have gone with him at the first asking; but
the thought of Molly and her forlornness, and the words warm
at her heart, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you"
— and a further sense that her visitations of Molly were an
extraordinary thing and very likely to be hindered on short
notice, kept her firm as a rock.
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