"Not if you love this money best, father. It will come between you and God, and cut you off from Heaven. Oh, you had much much better put it behind the fire."
"Why, Daisy!" Isaac said in amaze, quite roused up. "Why, Daisy, you're mad. You wouldn't have me throw it into the fire. It's gold, Daisy—gold."
"Yes, poor miserable gold," said Daisy. "It is gold, father, real gold. I know that. You love those gold pieces dearly; more than you love me."
"No, no, I don't know as I'd say that, Daisy," put in the old man, with a gleam of his late affection for her.
"More than you love God, father."
Isaac was silent.
"And yet they can't give you back any love,—they can't help you,—and when you die, you will have to leave them all behind. What will you do then? O father, think, is it worth while?" asked Daisy, and tears streamed from her eyes.
Isaac looked uneasily at her.
"I think it is like that text," said Daisy, "'What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul, or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' The bag of gold is 'the whole world' to you just now, father."
"What 'ud you have me do, Daisy?" asked Isaac, with a perplexed air, and Daisy's heart sprang.