"I don't think I do," Daisy said gently; "but Preston, I like the poor people."
"You do!" said Preston. "Then it is manifest that you cannot like me." And he dashed spurs into his horse and sprung away, with a grace and life that kept Daisy looking after him in admiration, and a plain mood of displeasure which cast its shadow all over her spirit.
"Here is the trowel, Miss Daisy."
Her messenger had come back, and Daisy recalled to the business in hand took up her reins again and drove on; but she felt deeply grieved. Now and then her gauntleted hand even went up to her face to brush away a tear that had gathered. It was not exactly a new thing, nor was Daisy entirely surprised at the attempt to divert her from her purpose. She was wise enough to guess that Preston's object had been more than the pleasure of her company; and she knew that all at home, unless possibly her father might be excepted, neither liked nor favoured her kindness to Molly and would rejoice to interrupt the tokens of it. All were against her; and Daisy's hand, went up again and again. "It is good I am weak and not very well," she thought; "as soon as I grow strong mamma will not let me do this any more. I must do all I can now."
So she came to the cripple's gate; and by that time the tears were all gone.
Nobody was in the little courtyard; Daisy went in first to see how the rose looked. It was all safe and doing well. While she stood there before it, the cottage door opened and the poor inmate came out. She crawled down the walk on hands and knees till she got near Daisy, and then sat back to look at her.
"What do you want?" she said, in a most uninviting and ungracious tone of voice.
"I came to see you," said Daisy, venturing to let her eyes rest for the first time on those poor, restless, unloving eyes opposite her—"and I wanted to see the rose, and I have brought you another flower—if you will let me bring it in."
Her words were sweet as honey. The woman looked at her, and answered again with the unintelligible grunt, of unbelieving wonder, which Daisy had heard once before. Daisy thought on the whole the safest way was not to talk but to fetch her beautiful "Jewess" flowers to speak for themselves. So she ran off and brought the pot and set it on the ground before Molly. It was a great attraction; Daisy could see that at once. The cripple sat back gazing at it. Daisy prudently waited till her eyes came round again from the flowers and rested on her little visiter's face.
"Where shall I put it?" said Daisy. "Where would you like to have it go?"