ing out paper; some she felt and rejected--it was too
thin or too blue, or something; she tried her pen on another kind;
it did not go well. At last a thick little sheet of note paper was
chosen; and Daisy began to write. Or rather, sat over the paper with
her pen in her fingers, thinking how to write. She looked very
anxious; then took bits of paper and a pencil and tried different
forms of a sentence. At last, with slow care, and fingers that
trembled, a line or two was inscribed on the beautiful thick little
sheet of English note paper.

"Dear papa, won't you think about being a Christian? Do not be
displeased with

"DAISY."

It was written all out, as fair as she could; and then you might have
seen Daisy's little round head go down on her hands on the desk. It did
not move for a good while. When it was lifted up, she sought out an
envelope rather hurriedly, directed it, folded and put in her note, and
sealed it.

Daisy shut her desk then, and with a manner not quite as calm and
careless as usual, went to her father's dressing table and stood
considering where she should put the note. Under the cushion, it might
be seen first by a servant, and then delivered to Mr. Randolph in the
midst of company. Under his dressing-box, the same fate threatened it.
Daisy peered about, and thought, and trembled for several minutes. She
had a fancy that she did not want him to get it before the next morning,
when he would be quietly dressing here alone. He would certainly be
opening his dressing-box before that. The only place Daisy could be sure
would not be invaded before that, was the place she chose; she took off
the cover of his box of shaving soap and with some trouble squeezed the
note in so that it would lie safely hid; then put on the cover and put
the box in its place, and went away with light hands and a heavy heart.
Heavy, that is, with a burden of doubt mingled with fear. Would Mr.
Randolph be angry? Daisy could not feel sure that that would not be the
consequence of her proceeding. Perhaps he would be very much displeased,
and think it very disrespectful and improper that his little daughter
should take so much upon herself. Daisy knew quite well all that. But
who else in the world would take the responsibility if she did not? No
one; and Daisy with all her fear did not once think of going to get her
note away again before it should be read. Her heart yearned towards her
father. He was so very gentle an