?"

"Because, Dr. Sandford, I am not good."

"Not good!" said he. "I thought you always were good."

Daisy's eye reddened and her lip twitched. He saw that there was some
uncommon disturbance on hand; and there was the wet spot on the pillow.

"Something has troubled you," he said; and with that he laid his
hand--it was a fresh, cool hand, pleasant to feel--upon Daisy's
forehead, and kept it there; sometimes looking at her, and as often
looking somewhere else. It was very agreeable to Daisy; she did not stir
her head from under the hand; and gradually she quieted down, and her
nerves, which were all ruffled, like a bird's feathers, grew smooth.
There were no lines in her forehead when Dr. Sandford took away his hand
again.

"Now tell me," said he smiling, "what was the matter? Shall I take you
down to the library now?"

"O no, sir, if you please. Please do not, Dr. Sandford! I am not ready,
I am not fit."

"Not fit?" said the doctor, eyeing her, and very much at a loss what to
make of this. "Do you mean that you want to be more finely attired
before you make your appearance in company?"

"No, sir," said Daisy. It struck her with a great sorrow, his saying
this. She knew her outward attire was faultless; bright and nice as new
silver was every bit of Daisy's dress, from her smooth hair to her neat
little slippers; it was all white and clean. But the inward adorning
which God looked at--in what a state was that? Daisy felt a double pang;
that Dr. Sandford should so far mistake her as to think her full of
silly vanity, and on the other hand, that he should so much, too well
judge of her as to think her always good. The witnessing tinge came
about Daisy's eyelids again.

"Dr. Sandford, if people tell you their private affairs, of course it is
confidential?"

"Of course," said the doctor, without moving a muscle.

"Then I will tell you what I meant. I am not good. I am dressed well
enough; but I have anger in my heart."

Dr. Sandford did not say how much he was surprised; for Daisy looked as
meek as a lamb. But he was a philosopher, and interested.

"Then I am sure you have had reason, Daisy."

"I think I had," said Daisy, but without looking less sorrowful.

"Do you not consider that one has a right to be angry when one has a
reason?"

"But one shouldn't stay angry," said the child, folding her hands over
her heart.

"How are you going to help it, Daisy?"

"There is a way, Dr. Sandford."

"Is there