"Papa, I think I ought to tell her. I want her to know."
"You have very uncompromising notions of duty. But this duty can wait till another day."
Daisy had to wait more than a day for her opportunity; her mother's next visits were too bustling and unsatisfactory, as well as too short, to promise her any good chance of being heard. At last came a propitious morning. It was more moderate weather; Daisy herself was doing very well, and suffering little pain; and Mrs. Randolph looked in good humour, and had sat down with her tetting-work, as if she meant to make her daughter something of a visit. Mr. Randolph was lounging at the head of the couch, out of Daisy's sight.
"Mamma," began the child, "there is something I wish to say to you."
"You have a favourable opportunity, Daisy. I can hear."
Yet Daisy looked a minute at the white hand that was flying the bobbin about. That white hand.
"It isn't much, mamma. It is only that I wish you to know that I am a Christian."
"That you are what?" said Mrs. Randolph, coldly.
"A Christian, mamma."
"Pray, what does that mean?"