Give her mine first," said Mr. Randolph.
"Which is yours? I don't see anything more."
"That little Proserpine in the middle."
"_This_? Are you going to give this to Daisy? But why is she called
Proserpine? I don't see."
"Nor I," said Mr. Randolph, "only that everything must have a name. And
this damsel is supposed to have been carrying a basket, which might
easily have been a basket of flowers, I don't see how the statement
could be disproved. And Daisy is fonder of the little nymph, I believe,
than any one else in the house."
"O papa! thank you," exclaimed Daisy, whose eyes sparkled. "I like to
have her _very_ much!"
"Well, here she goes," said Mrs. Gary. "Hand her over. You have a
variety, Daisy. Chinese playthings and Grecian art."
"_Some_ modern luxury," said Gary McFarlane. "Just a little."
"Egyptian art, too," said Capt. Drummond.
"O where's my spoon?" cried Daisy. "Has papa got it?"
"Here is Ransom's present," said her aunt, handing the note. "Nobody
knows what it is. Are we to know?"
Daisy opened and read, read over again, looked very grave, and finally
folded the note up in silence.
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