Silence.
"She will expect you to do next Sunday evening what you refused to do last evening."
Still silence, but a shiver ran over Daisy's frame.
"Do you know it?" said Mr. Randolph, noticing also that Daisy's cheek had grown a shade paler than it was.
"Papa—I wish I could die!" was the answer of the child's agony.
"Do you mean that you will not obey her, Daisy?"
"How can I, papa? how can I!" exclaimed Daisy.
"Do you think that song is so very bad, Daisy?"
"No. papa, it is very good for other days; but it is not holy." Her accent struck strangely upon Mr. Randolph's ear; and sudden contrasts rushed together oddly in his mind.
"Daisy, do you know that you are making yourself a judge of right and wrong? Over your mother and over me?"