"I'd have you give up the gold, father," she cried eagerly. "It isn't safe for you to keep. It shall be taken care of for you; and we shall have plenty of money coming in every quarter to keep us going; plenty, for I mean to be very careful. And Mr. Roper will arrange it all for us. But if you keep that gold and love it so, father, you'll never be really happy. It will hang on you like a weight, and drag you back from serving God. Won't you give it up?"
There came a long pause. Isaac seemed to be thinking, with his head sunk on his chest. Daisy's hand lay still upon his.
"Father, the Lord Jesus loved you and died for you," she said softly, after a while. "And He wants you to love Him and serve Him. But I don't see how you can, if you keep that gold and love it best of all."
"No, I don't see how I can," echoed old Isaac.
Then, quite suddenly, quite unexpectedly, he pulled out the wash-leather bag, and held it with both hands towards Daisy.
"Take it all, Daisy—quick—quick," he said. "And don't you ever let me set eyes on it again."
Daisy caught the bag from him, and fled out of the room, as if she had been carrying a very serpent from his path. She ran to the kitchen, and then and there she sent Mary Davis straight off to Mr. Roper, asking him to take charge of the fifty pounds, and pay the sum next morning into the Bank, which would now be closed. Daisy knew she could thoroughly depend on the faithful Mary.
Coming back to the tiny parlour, she found Isaac crying and sobbing in his childish fashion, with his old moan of "Gone—gone—gone—all gone!"
"Yes, it's gone, father, gone to the Bank," said Daisy brightly. "Quite safe there, till we want it. And the danger is gone, too, thank God."
"Danger gone!" repeated Isaac in his dreamy fashion, and he added, "But it do go against the grain, Daisy."