y
you will tell me what it is."

CHAPTER XVII.

Mr. and Mrs. Randolph departed.

"Daisy will be ruined forever!" So said the lady as soon as she was in
the carriage.

"I hope not."

"You take it coolly, Mr. Randolph. That woman is exactly the sort to
infect Daisy; and you have arranged it so that she will have full
chance."

"What is the precise danger you apprehend?" said Mr. Randolph. "I have
not heard it put into words."

"Daisy will be unmanageable. She is nearly that now."

"I never saw a more docile child in my life."

"That is because you take her part, Mr. Randolph. You will find it out
in time, when it is too late; and it will be your own doing."

"What?"

"Daisy will be a confirmed piece of superstition. You will see. And you
will not find her docile then. If she once takes hold of anything, she
does it with great obstinacy."

"But what is she taking hold of now? After all, you do not tell me,"
said Mr. Randolph carelessly.

"Of every sort of religious fanatical notion, you will find, Mr.
Randolph! She will set herself against everything I want her to do,
after the fashion of those people, who think nothing is right but their
own way. It will be a work of extreme difficulty, I foresee, to do
anything with her after these weeks in this black woman's house. I
would have run any risk in removing her, rather than let it be so."

"Well, we shall see," said Mr. Randolph. "I cannot quite take your view
of the matter. I would rather keep the child--even for my own private
comfort--than lose her to prevent her from becoming religious."

Mrs. Randolph indignantly let this statement of opinion alone.

Little Daisy had a quiet day, meanwhile. The weather grew excessively
hot; her broken ankle pained her; it was a day of suffering. Obliged to
lie quite still; unable to change her position even a little, when the
couch became very hot under her; no air coming in at the open window but
what seemed laden with the heats of a furnace, Daisy lay still and
breathed as well as she could. All day Juanita was busy about her;
moistening her lips with orange juice, bathing her hands, fanning her,
and speaking and singing sweet words to her, as she could attend to
them. The child's eyes began to go to the fine black face that hovered
near her, with an expression of love and trust that was beautiful to
behold. It was a day that tried poor little Daisy's patience; for along
with all this heat, and weary lyin