CHAPTER II.
For some days after this time, Mrs.Randolph fancied that her little daughter was less lively than usual; she "moped," her mother said.

Daisy was not moping, but it was true she had been little seen or heard; and then it was generally sitting with a book in the Belvidere or on a bank under a rose-bush, or going out or coming in with a book under her arm.
Mrs.Randolph did not know that this book was almost always the Bible, and Daisy had taken a little pains that she should not know, guessing somehow that it would not be good for her studies.

But her mother thought Daisy was drooping; and Daisy had been a delicate child, and the doctor had told them to turn her out in the country and "let her run;" therefore it was that she was hardly ever checked in any fancy that came into her head.

But therefore it was partly, too, that Mrs.Randolph tried to put books and thinking as far from her as she could.
"Daisy," she said one morning at the breakfast-table, "would you like to go with June and carry some nice things down to Mrs.Parsons ?" "How, mamma ?" "How what?
Do speak distinctly." "How shall I go, I mean ?" "You may have the carriage.

I cannot go, this morning or this afternoon." "O papa, mayn't I take Loupe and drive there myself ?" If Daisy had put the question at the other end of the table, there would have been an end of the business, as she knew.