"Ah, I knew you'd say so," Daisy answered sorrowfully, yet struggling to be calmer. "Father, you'll get so tired of me soon; you'll wish I was dead. And I would rather die and go to Heaven—oh, much, much rather—if only I might. But I mustn't be in a hurry, if God doesn't wish it for me yet. Only—oh, father, I don't know what to do!"
"You hear her, Mr. Meads," said Mary Davis slowly. "You hear what she's telling you. She thinks you'll be tired of her, and want her to die, because she can't slave for you any longer,—she that's your own little Daisy, the only child you've got. If she's taken, you'll have nobody left you then—not a soul in all the world to care for you. I wonder if you'd mind? You'd have your gold still—only your gold. Maybe that's all you want."
"Who says I've got gold?" asked the old man tremblingly, an expression of fear coming over his face. "I tell you, woman, I ain't got one penny to spare,—not one penny. I'm only a poor old man."
"O yes, I know," said Mary calmly, with a touch of contempt. "You and I know one another pretty well, Mr. Meads, by this time. You can't take me in, as you take most people in. Poor!—" and her voice suddenly changed. "Yes, it's true, that, and no mistake. You are a poor man, Mr. Meads,—poor and miserable too. Any man 'ud be poor who had his heart wrapped up in gold. But it'll be taken from you some day,—mind that. It's your idol, and it'll be taken from you."
Isaac shook as if he had the palsy, and his lustreless eyes stared hard at Mary. "It'll be took!" he muttered hoarsely, "Who says it'll be took? I've got it all safe—all safe. There isn't a soul knows where I put it."
"Maybe yes, and maybe no," Mary answered. "Don't you be too sure, Mr. Meads. There's often a deal more known by folks around than you think for. You needn't look at me like that. I don't know where you keep your hoard,—no, nor I don't want to. The gold that can kill your love for your own child has a curse upon it, and I wouldn't finger it if I could. But it'll be taken from you some day, or you'll be taken from it. And what'll you have then?"
Daisy's tears were at an end. She had lain silently listening thus far, and now she stretched out both hands to him, saying, "Father, don't you love me?"
Isaac made no answer. He stared fixedly at Mary Davis, muttering, "I've got it safe."
"Then keep it safe, if you will," answered Mary, who was losing patience. "But don't make believe you haven't got pence when you've got pounds, for I can't stand it."
"Nursie, don't be angry with him," said Daisy softly. "He can't understand."