"You will have to do everything else and this too. Isn't there a commandment about children obeying their mothers?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"That is the very first commandment I mean you shall obey," said Mrs. Randolph, rousing herself enough to bring one foot to the floor. "You have no business to think whether a thing is right or wrong, that I order you to do; if I order it, that makes it right; and anybody but a fool would tell you so. You will sing that song from the 'Camp in Silesia' for me next Sunday evening, or I will whip you, Daisy—you may depend upon it. I have done it before, and I will again; and you know I do not make believe. Now go to your father."
"Where is he, mamma?" said Daisy, with a perceptible added paleness in her cheek.
"I don't know. In the library, I suppose."
To the library Daisy went, with trembling steps, in great uncertainty what she was to expect from her father. It was likely enough that he would say the same as her mother, and insist on the act of submission to be gone through next Sunday; but Daisy had an inward consciousness that her father was likely to come to a point with her sooner than that. It came even sooner than she expected.
Mr. Randolph was pacing up and down the library when Daisy slowly opened the door. No one else was there. He stopped when she came in, and stood looking at her as she advanced towards him.
"Daisy, you disobeyed me last night."
"Yes, papa,—but—"
"I have but one answer for that sort of thing," said Mr. Randolph, taking a narrow ruler from the library table. "Give me your hand!"