"Now tell me," said he smiling, "what was the matter? Shall I take you down to the library now?"
"O no, sir, if you please. Please do not, Dr. Sandford! I am not ready,
I am not fit."
"Not fit?" said the doctor, eyeing her, and very much at a loss what to make of this. "Do you mean that you want to be more finely attired before you make your appearance in company?"
"No, sir," said Daisy. It struck her with a great sorrow, his saying this. She knew her outward attire was faultless; bright and nice as new silver was every bit of Daisy's dress, from her smooth hair to her neat little slippers; it was all white and clean. But the inward adorning which God looked at—in what a state was that? Daisy felt a double pang; that Dr. Sandford should so far mistake her as to think her full of silly vanity, and on the other hand, that he should so much, too well judge of her as to think her always good. The witnessing tinge came about Daisy's eyelids again.
"Dr. Sandford, if people tell you their private affairs, of course it is confidential?"
"Of course," said the doctor, without moving a muscle.
"Then I will tell you what I meant. I am not good. I am dressed well enough; but I have anger in my heart."
Dr. Sandford did not say how much he was surprised; for Daisy looked as meek as a lamb. But he was a philosopher, and interested.
"Then I am sure you have had reason, Daisy."
"I think I had," said Daisy, but without looking less sorrowful.