"You need not wait till I get up—shew it to me now."
"I cannot lift that big Bible, papa."
Mr. Randolph rose up from the sofa, went to the shelves where it lay, and brought the great Bible to the library table. Then stood and watched Daisy, who kneeled in a chair by the table and busily turned over the large leaves, her little face very wise and intent, her little hands small to manage the big book before her. Had such a child and such a book anything to do with each other, Mr. Randolph thought? But Daisy presently found her place, and looking up at him drew a little back that her father might see it. He stooped over Daisy and read,
"In everything give thanks."
"Do you see it, papa?"
"Yes."
"Then here is another place—I know where to find it—"
She turned over more leaves, stopped again, and Mr. Randolph stooped and read,—
"Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."
Mr. Randolph read, and went and threw himself on his sofa again. Daisy came beside him. A wistful earnestness in the one face; a careless sort of embarrassment on the other.