"You are quite growing an old woman a good while before the time."
Daisy kissed him with good child-like kisses, laying her little head in his neck and clasping her arms around him; for all that, her heart was busy yet.
"Papa," she said, "what do you think is right for me to do?"
"Thinking exhausts me, Daisy. It is too hot to-day for such an exercise."
Daisy drew back and looked at him, with one hand resting on his shoulder. She did not dare urge any more in words; her look spoke her anxious, disappointed questioning of her father's meaning. Perhaps he did not care to meet such a gaze of inquiry, for he pulled her down again in his arms.
"I do not want you to be an old woman."
"But, papa—that is not the thing."
"I will not have it, Daisy."
"Papa," she said with a small laugh, "what shall I do to help it? I do not know how I came to be an old woman."
"Go off and play with Nora Dinwiddie. Are you ready to go?"