end."

"I thought--by and by--she might learn to like it," Daisy said in the
most sedately meek way possible. Her father could not forbear a smile.

"But Daisy, from what you tell me, I am at a loss to understand the part
that all this could have had in _your_ happiness."

"O papa--she is so miserable!" was Daisy's answer. Mr. Randolph drew her
close and kissed her.

"_You_ are not miserable?"

"No, papa--but--"

"But what?"

"I would like to give her a little bit of comfort."

There was much earnestness, and a little sorrow, in Daisy's eyes.

"I am not sure that it is right for you to go to such places."

"Papa, may I shew you something?" said the child with sudden life.

"Anything, Daisy."

She rushed away; was gone a full five minutes; then came softly to Mr.
Randolph's shoulder with an open book in her hand. It was Joanna's
Bible, for Daisy did not dare bring her own; and it was open at these
words--

"Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."

"What does this mean, Daisy? It seems very plain; but what do I want
with it?"

"Only, papa, that is what makes me think it is right."

"What is right?"

"To do this, papa."

"Well but, are you in want of somebody to come and make you happy?"

"O no, papa--but if I were in her place, then I should be."

"Do you suppose this commands us to do in every case what we would like
ourselves in the circumstances?"

"Papa--I suppose so--if it wouldn't be something wrong."

"At that rate, I should have to let you go with your rose-bush," said
Mr. Randolph.

"O papa!" said Daisy, "do you think, if you asked her, mamma would
perhaps say I might?"

"Can't tell, Daisy--I think I shall try my powers of persuasion."

For answer to which, Daisy clasped her arms round his neck and gave him
some very earnest caresses, comprised in one great kiss and a clinging
of her little head in his neck for the space of half a minute. It meant
a great deal; so much that Mr. Randolph was unable for the rest of the
day to get rid of a sort of lingering echo of Daisy's Bible words; they
haunted him, and haunted him with a strange sense of the house being at
cross purposes, and Daisy's line of life lying quite athwart and
contrary to all the rest. "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto
you;"--who else at Melbourne considered that for one moment?

However, Mr. Randolph had a fresh talk with his wife; the end of which
was that he gave Daisy leav