"You were back very soon from the Fish place, I think," said
Daisy.
"Yes — Alexander was not at home; there was no use in my
staying. But what were you doing all that while, Daisy?"
"It was not so very long," said Daisy. "I did not think it was
a long time. You must have deceived yourself."
"But do you not mean to tell me what you were about? What
_could_ you do, at such a place?"
Daisy stood on the piazza, in all the light of the afternoon
sunbeams, looking and feeling puzzled. How much was it worth
while to try to tell Preston of her thoughts and wishes?
"What was the attraction, Daisy? only tell me that. Dirt and
ignorance and rudeness and disorder — and you contented to be
in the midst of it! Down in the dirt! What was the
attraction?"
"She is very unhappy, Preston."
"I don't believe it. Nonsense! All that is not misery to such
people, unless you make it so by showing them something
different. Marble tables are not the thing for them, Daisy."
"Marble tables!" echoed Daisy.
"Nor fuchsias and geraniums either. That old thing's old
flowers do just as well."
Daisy was silent. She could have answered this. Preston went
on.
"She won't be any better with her garden full of roses and
myrtles, than she is with her sunflowers now.
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