"Daisy "
"Papa."
"Can you talk to me?"
Daisy sank back into her former position. Her father put his lips down to hers for a long kiss.
"That account is settled," said he; "do you understand? Now
Daisy, tell me what was the matter last night."
"Papa, it was Sunday night."
"Yes. Well?"
"And that song that mamma wanted me to sing" Daisy spoke very low, "was out of an opera; and it was good for any other day, but not for Sunday."
"Why not?"
Daisy hesitated, and at last said, "It had nothing to do with
Sunday, papa."