"What now, Daisy?"
The child looked at him with a most earnest, inquisitive wistful gaze. The Captain had some difficulty to stand it.
"Oh, Captain Drummond," she repeated, "are you going to be ashamed of Christ?"
The young soldier was strangely enough confused by this simple question. His embarrassment was even evident. He hesitated for a reply, and it did not readily come. When it came, it was an evasion.
"That is right, Daisy," he said; "stand by your colours. He is a poor soldier that carries them behind his back in the face of the enemy. But whatever field you die in, I should like to be alongside of you."
He spoke gravely. And he asked no leave this time, but, clasping Daisy's hand, he bent down and kissed her forehead twice, and earnestly; then he did not say another word, but strode away. A little flush rose on Daisy's brow, for she was a very particular little lady as to who touched her; however she listened attentively to the sound of the retreating hoofs which carried the Captain off along the road; and when Juanita at last came in with her little tray and a cup of tea, she found Daisy's face set in a very thoughtful mood, and her eyes full of tears. The face did not even brighten at her approach.
"Miss Daisy," said the black woman, "I thought you wanted a cup of tea?"
"So I do, Juanita. I want it very much."
Mrs. Benoit made remarks to herself upon the wise little face that met her with such a sober greeting. However, she made none aloud; she supported Daisy nicely with one arm, and set the little tray before her. The tea was excellent; the toast was in dainty, delicate, thin brown strips. Daisy took it soberly.
"Does it seem good to my love?"