he
one or the other.

CHAPTER IX.

It was bright morning, the pony chaise at the door, and Daisy in it;
standing to arrange matters.

"Now, Daisy, have you got all in there? I don't believe it."

"Why don't you believe it?"

"How much will that concern hold?"

"A great deal more than you want. There's a big box under all the seat."

"What have you got in it?"

Daisy went off into a laugh, such a laugh of glee as did her father's
heart good. Mr. Randolph was standing in the doorway to see the
expedition set forward.

"What's the matter, Daisy?" he said.

"Papa, he don't think anybody is a person of forethought but himself."

It was Preston's turn to laugh, and Mr. Randolph joined him.

"Shews he don't know you, Daisy, as well as I do. When do you expect to
be home again?"

Mr. Randolph had come down to the side of the chaise and was looking
with a very pleased face at what was in it. Daisy said she supposed they
would stay till Preston had caught as many fish as he wanted.

"And won't you be tired before that?"

"O no, papa! I am going to fish too."

"I'll have all you catch, Daisy,--for my own eating!"

He bent his head down as he spoke, to kiss the little fisherwoman; but
Daisy, answering some unusual tenderness of face or manner, sprung up
and threw her arms round his neck, and only released him after a very
close pressure.

"She is in a fair way to be cured of her morbid seriousness"--Mr.
Randolph thought as he saw the cavalcade set forth; and well pleased he
went in to breakfast. Daisy and Preston had breakfasted already, before
the family; and now were off to the hills just as other people were
stirring sugar into cups of coffee.

Preston led the way on a fine bay of his uncle's; taking good gallops
now and then to ease his own and his horse's spirits, and returning to
go quietly for a space by the side of the pony-chaise. Loupe never went
into anything more exciting than his waddling trot; though Daisy made
him keep that up briskly.

"What a thing it is, to have such short legs!" said Preston, watching
the movements of the pony.

"_You_ go over the road without seeing it," said Daisy.

"I don't want to see it. What I want to see is Hillsdale."

"So do I; but I want to see _everything_."

Preston smiled, he could not help it, at the very happy and busy little
face and spirit down in the pony chaise.

"What do you see, Daisy, that you have not seen a hundred times before?"