"Do not burden her conscience then," said the doctor. "Not just now—till she gets stronger."
"Where was she going this afternoon?" Mrs. Randolph asked in her calm voice.
"On an errand of the most Utopian benevolence"—
"Having what for its object?"
"A miserable old crippled creature, who lives in a poor cottage about half a mile from your gate."
"What was Daisy desiring to do, doctor?"
"Carry some comfort to this forlorn thing, I believe; whom nobody else thinks of comforting."
"Do you know what shape the comfort was to take?"
"I think," said the doctor,—"I am not quite sure, but I think, it was a rose bush."
Mr. Randolph looked at his wife and straightened himself up to a sitting posture.