little of my childish fascination about
those steady blue eyes. I could not deny that in these days I scarcely
lived by eating. But in the eagerness and pleasure of my pursuits I
had not missed it, and amid my many busy and anxious thoughts I had
not cared about it.

"That will do," said the doctor. "Daisy, have you heard lately from
your father or mother?"

My breath came short as I said no.

"Nor have I. Failing orders from them, you are bound to respect mine;
and I order you change of air, and to go wherever Mrs. Sandford
proposes to take you."

"Not before school closes, Dr. Sandford?"

"Do you care about that?"

"My dear child," said Mrs. Sandford, "we are going to West Point--and
we want to take you with us. I know you will enjoy it, my dear; and I
shall be delighted to have you. But we want to go next week."

"Do you care, Daisy?" Dr. Sandford repeated.

I had to consider. One week more, and the examination would be over
and the school term ended. I was ready for the examination; I expected
to keep my standing, which was very high; by going away now I should
lose that, and miss some distinction. So at least I thought. I found
that several things were at work in my heart that I had not known were
there. After a minute I told Mrs. Sandford I would go with her when
she pleased.

"You have made up your mind that you do not care about staying to the
end here?" said the doctor.

"Dr. Sandford," I said, "I believe I _do_ care; but not about anything
worth while."

He took both my hands, standing before me, and looked at me, I
thought, as if I were the old little child again.

"A course of fresh air," he said, "will do you more good than a course
of any other thing just now. And we may find 'wonderful things' at
West Point, Daisy."

"I expect you will enjoy it, Daisy," Mrs. Sandford repeated.

There was no fear. I knew I should see Preston, at any rate; and I had
been among brick walls for many months. I winced a little at the
thought of missing all I had counted upon at the close of term; but it
was mainly pride that winced, so it was no matter.

We left the city three or four days later. It was a June day--can I
ever forget it? What a brilliance of remembrance comes over me now?
The bustle of the close schoolrooms, the heat and dust of the sunny
city streets, were all left behind in an hour; and New York was
nowhere! The waves of the river sparkled under a summer breeze; the
wall of the palisades