Daisy did not see it. But
she had spoken diplomatically. She did not want to come any
nearer the subject of the picture in talking with Dr.
Sandford. His mind was different, and he went on.
"What is the trial of skill about, Daisy?"
The child hesitated, and then said, speaking low and most un-
child-like — "It is about a human soul."
"And what do you understand are the powers at work — or at
play?"
"It is not play," said Daisy.
"Answer Dr. Sandford, Daisy," said her father.
"Papa," said the child, "it isn't play. The devil tries to
make people do wrong — and if they try to do right, then there
is a —"
"A what?"
"I don't know — a fight, papa."
Mr. Randolph again felt a tremor, a nervous trembling, pass
over Daisy.
"You do not suppose, my darling," he said, softly, "that such
a fight goes on with anything like this horrible figure that
your cousin Preston has made himself?"
"I do not suppose he looks like that, papa."
"I do not think there is such a personage at all, Daisy. I am
sure you need not trouble your little head with thinking about
it."
Daisy made no answer.
"There is a struggle always going on, no doubt, between good
and evil; but we cannot paint good and evil without imagining
shapes for them.
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