She had an opportunity now in
hand; she would not throw it away; not for any self-
gratification. And to tell the truth, no sort of self-
gratification could balance for a moment in Daisy's mind the
thought of Molly's wearing a crown of gold in heaven.. That
crown of gold was before Daisy's eyes; nothing else was worth
a thought in comparison.
"Are you going to see that wretched old being?" said Preston,
at last.
"Yes."
"Daisy — dear Daisy — I do not know what to do with you. Do
you like, is it possible that you can like, dirt and
vulgarity?"
"I don't think I do," Daisy said, gently; "but, Preston, I
like the poor people."
"You do!" said Preston. "Then it is manifest that you cannot
like me." And he dashed spurs into his horse and sprung away,
with a grace and life that kept Daisy looking after him in
admiration, and a plain mood of displeasure which cast its
shadow all over her spirit.
"Here is the trowel, Miss Daisy."
Her messenger had come back, and Daisy, recalled to the
business in hand, took up her reins again and drove on; but
she felt deeply grieved. Now and then her gauntleted hand even
went up to her face to brush away a tear that had gathered.
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