Daisy clasped her arms around his neck and held him close. It was
only by her extraordinary self-command that she kept from tears; when he
raised his head her eyes were perfectly dry. "Will you be my good
little Daisy--and let me do the thinking for you?" said Mr. Randolph
tenderly.
"Papa--I _can't_."
"I will not have you different from what I like you, Daisy."
"Then, papa, what shall I do?"
"Obey me, and be satisfied with that."
"But, papa, I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ," said the child,
looking unutterably sober.
"I do not intend my commands shall conflict with any of higher
authority."
"Papa--suppose--they _might_?"
"I must be judge. You are a little child; you must take the law from my
mouth, until you are older."
"But, papa, suppose I _thought_ the Bible told me to do what you did not
think it said?"
"I advise you to believe my judgment, Daisy, if you wish to keep the
peace between us. I will not have anymore calling of it in question."
Daisy struggled plainly, though she would not cry; her colour flushed,
her lip quivered.
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