"Now I think I could bear a little reading," said Mr.
Randolph, as he laid his head back on his couch.
"What, papa?" said Daisy, a sudden hope starting into some
dark corner of her heart, almost without her knowing it.
"What? — what you please."
"Shall I read what I like, papa?"
"Yes. If I do not like it, I will tell you."
Daisy ran away and flew through the rooms to her own, and
there hastily sought her Bible. She could not wait to get
another; she took her own and ran back softly with it. Her
father's languid eye watched the little white figure coming
towards him, book in hand; the gentle, eager step, the slight
flush on the cheek; till she took her seat beside him.
"What have you got there, Daisy?" he asked.
"Papa — my Bible."
"Well — what are you going to read?"
"I don't know, papa —" said Daisy, doubtfully. What would come
next?
"Do you remember your picture, the 'Game of Life'?"
"Yes, papa."
"Do you remember your talk about good and evil spirits?"
"Yes, sir."
"Find me the grounds of your philosophy."
Daisy thought what that might mean, and guessed at it. She
turned to the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, a favourite
chapter, and read the parable of the sheep and the goats.
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