"Pray who do you think is, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, maintaining his gravity admirably.
"Papa, don't you think Captain Drummond is and "
"And who, Daisy?"
"I was thinking Mr. Dinwiddie, papa." Daisy did not quite know how well this last name would be relished, and she coloured a little apprehensively.
"You are impartial in your professional tastes, I am glad to see," said Mr. Randolph. Then, observing how innocent of understanding him was the grave little face of Daisy, he bent down to kiss her.
"And you are unfortunate in your favourites. Both at a distance! How is Gary McFarlane?"
"Papa, I think he has good nature; but I think he is rather frivolous."
Mr. Randolph looked soberly at the little face before him, and went away, thinking his own thoughts. But he had the cruelty to repeat to Dr. Sandford so much of this conversation as concerned that gentleman; in doing so he unwittingly laid the foundation of more attention to Daisy on the doctor's part, than he probably would ever otherwise have given her. To say truth the idea propounded by Daisy was so very novel to the doctor that it both amused and piqued him.
Mr. Randolph had hardly gone out, when Hephzibah came in. And then followed a lesson the like of which Daisy had not given yet. Hephzibah's attention was on everything but the business in hand. Also, she had a little less awe of Daisy lying on Mrs. Benoit's couch in a loose gown, than when she met her in the Belvedere at Melbourne, dressed in an elegant cambric frock, with a resplendent sash.
"C, a, spells ca, Hephzibah. Now what is that?"