"I am well, papa."
"You don't look so. What's the matter, that you don't go a fishing, when
Ransom has the consideration to ask you?"
Daisy's tranquillity was very nearly overset. But she maintained it, and only answered without the change of a muscle, "I have not the inclination, papa." Indeed her face was too quiet; and Mr. Randolph putting that with its colourless hue, and the very sweet upward look her eyes had first given him, was not satisfied. He went away to the breakfast room.
"Felicia," said he low, bending down by his wife,—"did you have any words with Daisy last night?"
"Has she told you about it?" said Mrs. Randolph.
"Told me what? What is there to tell?"
"Nothing, on my part," answered the lady nonchalantly. "Daisy may tell you what she pleases."
"Felicia," said Mr. Randolph looking much vexed, "that child has borne too much already. She is ill."
"It is her own fault. I told you, Mr. Randolph, I would as lief not have a child as not have her mind me. She shall do what I bid her, if she dies for it."
"It won't come to that," said Mrs. Gary. Mr. Randolph turned on his heel.