Mary Davis was at a loss what to do. She did not wish to rouse Daisy, yet silent signs and beckonings proved of no avail. The old man did not see, or chose to ignore them. Mary laid one hand on his shoulder to draw attention, and with the other she pointed to the door; but Isaac shook off her hand, and doggedly retained his seat.
She found old Isaac Meads in the sick room,
seated beside Daisy's bed.
"You must go away," Mary whispered. "The doctor says so. You are not to come here, Mr. Meads."
"Not to come here? And who's got any right to say that to me?" growled Isaac. "Isn't it my own house? Eh?"
"Hush—hush!" whispered Mary. "Hush! You will startle Miss Daisy and make her worse."
But Daisy had heard. She opened her eyes, and a smile broke over her face as she said, "Father."
"Didn't I know she'd know me?" asked Isaac Meads. "Whatever in the world makes you keep on lying here all this time, Daisy? Ain't you going to get up and be busy? Everything'll go to wrack and ruin if you don't, and I haven't got one penny to spare—not one penny."
"I'll get up as soon as ever I can," said Daisy. "I can't stand yet, father."