Mrs. Randolph's voice was a note
belonging to another chord.
"Daisy, it is your bedtime."
"Yes, mamma."
Mr. Randolph made no attempt to hinder his wife's arrangements
this time. Daisy exchanged a very tender good-night with him
and then went away. But she went away very happy. She thought
she saw good days coming.
There were good days that followed — that one, for a while.
Daisy's readings and sweet companionship with her father were
constant, and grew sweeter as he grew stronger. But the
strengthening process was not rapid. About a fortnight had
passed, when Mrs. Sandford one day made enquiry about it of
her brother-in-law.
"Slow work —" said the doctor.
"He will get over it, won't he?"
"I hope he will."
"But cannot anything be done for him, Grant?"
"He is going to do the best thing. He is going to Europe."
"To Europe! — This winter?"
"Now, in a few weeks, or less."
"It will be good for your pet Daisy."
"Doubtfully —" said the doctor, with a very complicated
expression of face; but he was taking off his boot at the
moment, and maybe it pinched him. "She will not go."
"Not go! Daisy! Does not her mother go?"
"Yes."
"And not Daisy? Why not Daisy.
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