But everybody waited in vain to hear the answer. It did not come.
"I shall not ask you again, Daisy."
"Mamma," said the child, low and modestly, but with steadiness, "I was praying."
"Praying! were you! Why do you choose that particular time for your private devotions?"
It was almost too much. The tears started in Daisy's eyes; but presently she answered, "Because God is good to us, mamma."
"He is always good," said Mrs. Randolph. "That is a very silly practice of yours, Daisy, and very unbecoming. There is a proper way of doing everything."
The lady's manner said that the subject was dismissed, and her guests returned to their ordinary conversation. Except the doctor and Daisy. She was overwhelmed, and he was gravely unsocial.
Was it silly? that bound her heart had made up to the feet of her King? That joyful thanksgiving, and expression of love, and pledge of obedience, and prayer for help? It was something better than the meal often to Daisy; something sweeter and happier. Was it silly? and must she do so no more except when she was alone?
Daisy had quite forgotten that eating and drinking was part of the present matter in hand, when Dr. Sandford softly asked her what she would like to have. Daisy said anything he pleased; not caring herself, and indeed in too much confusion of mind yet to know or think about the business. And her appetite was gone. Dr. Sandford provided for her with kind care, what she liked too; but nothing was good to Daisy. She broke bread and swallowed milk mechanically; the more substantial food she refused utterly. Bread and milk and grapes were Daisy's dinner.
"It's good to be somebody's favourite," Ransom said to her after the meal was over. "Nobody got any grapes but you."