Preston smiled, he could not help it, at the very happy and busy little face and spirit down in the pony-chaise.
"What do you see, Daisy, that you have not seen a hundred times before?"
"That makes no difference," said Daisy. "I have seen you a hundred times before."
Preston laughed, set spurs to his horse, and went off for another gallop.
Daisy enjoyed her morning's drive. The light was clear and the air was fresh; Preston galloping before and Sam jogging on behind; everything was fine! Then it was quite true that she liked to see everything; those grey eyes of hers were extremely busy. All the work going on in the fields had interest for her, and all the passers-by on the road. A strange interest, often, for Daisy was very apt to be wondering whether any of them knew and loved the name she loved best; wondering who among all those rough-looking, unknown people, might be her fellow-servants. And with that a thought which, if Mr. Randolph had known it, would have checked his self-congratulations. He had not guessed what made the clasp of Daisy's arms round his neck so close that morning.
Till they passed through Crum Elbow everything had been, as Preston said, seen a hundred times before. A little way beyond that everything became new. Mrs. Randolph's carriage never came that road. The country grew more rough and broken, and the hills in their woody dress showed more and more near.
"Do you see that break in the woods?" said Preston, pointing with his whip; "that is where the brook comes out, that is where we are going."
"What time is it, Preston?"
"Time? it is half past nine. What about it?"
"I'm hungry that's all. I wanted to know what time it was."