"Did I ever walk up to the cannon's mouth like that?" he said to himself.
CHAPTER XI.
Daisy kept herself quite still while her father and June were present. When Mr. Randolph had gone down stairs, and June seeing her charge better, ventured to leave her to get some brandy and water, then Daisy seized that minute of being alone to allow herself a few secret tears. Once opened, the fountain of tears gushed out a river; and when June came back Daisy was in an agony which prevented her knowing that anybody was with her. In amaze June set down the brandy and water and looked on. She had never in her life seen Daisy so. It distressed her; but though June might be called dull, her poor wits were quick to read some signs; and troubled as she was, she called neither Daisy's father nor her mother. The child's state would have warranted such an appeal. She never heard June's tremulous "Don't, Miss Daisy!" She was shaken with the sense of the terrible contest she had brought on herself; and grieved to the very depths of her tender little heart that she must bear the displeasure of her father and her mother. She struggled with tears and agitation until she was exhausted, and then lay quiet, panting and pale, because she had no strength to weep longer.
"Miss Daisy," said June, "drink this."
"What is it?"
"It is brandy and water. It is good for you."
"I am not faint. I don't like it."
"Miss Daisy, please! You want something. It will make you feel better and put you to sleep."
Disregarding the tumbler which June offered, Daisy slowly crawled off the bed and went and kneeled down before her open window, crossing her arms on the sill. June followed her, with a sort of submissive pertinacity.
"Miss Daisy, you want to take some of this, and lie down and go to sleep."