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during the next few days. I, for my part, had my own secret cherished plan, which made my heart beat quicker whenever I thought of it. But I wanted somebody's counsel and help; and on the whole I thought my Aunt Gary's would be the safest. So after breakfast I consulted Preston only about my mysterious little box, which would not open. Was it a paper weight? Preston smiled, took up the box and performed some conjuration upon it, and then--I cannot describe my entranced delight--as he set it down again on the table, the room seemed to grow musical. Softest, most liquid sweet notes came pouring forth one after the other, binding my ears as if I had been in a state of enchantment; binding feet and hands and almost my breath, as I stood hushed and listening to the liquid warbling of delicious things, until the melody had run itself out. It was a melody unknown to me; wild and dainty; it came out of a famous opera, I was told afterward. When the fairy notes sunk into silence, I turned mutely towards Preston. Preston laughed. "I declare!" he said,--"I declare! Hurra! you have got colour in your cheeks, Daisy; absolutely, my little Daisy! there is a real streak of pink there where it was so white before." "_What_ is it?" said I. "Just a little good blood coming up under the skin." "Oh no, Preston--_this_; what is it?" "A musical box." "But where does the music come from?" "Out of the box. See, Daisy; when it has done a tune and is run out, you must wind it up, so,--like a watch." He wound it up and set it on the table again. And again a melody came forth, and this time it was different; not plaintive and thoughtful, but jocund and glad; a little shout and ring of merriment, like the feet of dancers scattering the drops of dew in a bright morning; or like the chime of a thousand little silver bells rung for laughter. A sort of intoxication came into my heart. When Preston would have wound up the box again, I stopped him. I was full of the delight. I could not hear any more just then. "Why, Daisy, there are ever so many more tunes." "Yes. I am glad. I will have them another time," I answered. "How very kind of mamma!" "Hit the right thing this time, didn't she? How's the riding cap, Daisy?" "It is very nice," I said. "Aunt Gary is very good; and I like the whip _very_ much, Preston." "That fat little rascal will want it. Does the cap fit, Daisy?" "I don't know," I said. "Oh yes, I suppose so."
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