"Papa, suppose we sit down here for a moment and let us look about us."

"Well, Daisy," ? said her father, who knew by experience what was likely to follow.

"Papa," said Daisy as they sat down, "I want to ask you about something."

"What is it?"

"When I was in the chaise, driving Loupe the other clay, papa, I heard something that I could not understand."

"Did you?"

"It was two men that pa.s.sed me on the road; I heard one say to the other as I went by, that it was your carriage, and then he said that 'Randolph's folks were a good deal _stuck up;_' ? what did he mean, papa?"

"Nothing of any consequence, Daisy."

"But why did he say it, papa?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I did not understand it nor like it, papa; I wanted to know what he meant."

"It is hardly worth talking about, Daisy. It is the way those who have not enough in the world are very apt to talk of others who are better off than themselves."

"Why, papa?"

"They were poor men, I suppose, weren't they."

"Yes; papa ? working men."

"That cla.s.s of people, my dear, are very apt to have a grudge against the rich."

"For what, papa?"

"For being able to live better than they do."

"Why, papa! do poor people generally feel so?"

"Very often, I think. They do not generally speak it out aloud."

"Then, papa," said Daisy, speaking slowly, "how do you know?

What makes you think they feel so?"

Her father smiled at her eagerness and gravity.

"I see it, Daisy, when they do not speak it. They show it in various ways. Besides, I know their habit of talking among themselves."

"But papa, that is very bad."

"What?"

"That poor people should feel so. I am sure rich people are their best friends."

Her father stroked her head fondly, and looked amused.

"They don't believe that, Daisy."

"But _why_ don't they believe it, papa?" said Daisy, growing more and more surprised.

"I suppose," said Mr. Randolph, rising, "they would be better satisfied if I gave them my horses and went afoot." ? A speech which Daisy pondered and pondered and could make nothing of.

They walked on, Mr. Randolph making observations and giving orders now and then to workmen. Here a man was mowing under the shrubbery; there the gardener was setting out pots of greenhouse flowers; in another place there were holes digging for trees to be planted. Daisy went musing on while her father gave his orders, and when they were again safe out of hearing she spoke. "Papa, do you suppose Michael and Andrew and John, and all your own people, feel so about you?"

"I think it is likely, Daisy. I can't hope to escape better than my neighbours."

"But, papa, they don't look so, nor act so?"

"Not before me. They do not wish to lose their places."

"Papa, ? couldn't something be done to make them feel better."

"Why, Daisy," said her father laughing, "are you going to turn reformer!"

"I don't know what that is, papa."

"A thankless office, my dear. If you could make all the world wise, it would do, but fools are always angry with you for trying it."

The conversation ended, and left Daisy greatly mystified. Her father's people not liking him? ? the poor having ill-will against the rich, and a grudge against their pleasant things ?

it was very melancholy! Daisy thought about it a great deal that day; and had a very great talk on the subject with Nora, who without a quarter of the interest had much more knowledge about it than Daisy. She had been with her brother sometimes to the houses of poor children, and she gave Daisy a high- coloured picture of the ways of living in such houses and the absence of many things by Daisy and herself thought the necessaries of life. Daisy heard her with a lengthening face, and almost thought there was some excuse for the state of feeling her father had explained in the morning. The question, however, was too long a one for Daisy; but she arrived at one conclusion, which was announced the next morning at the breakfast-table. Mrs. Randolph had called upon her to say what was determined upon for the birthday.

"Papa," said Daisy, "will there be a great plenty of strawberries next week?"

"Yes, I believe so. Logan says the vines are very full. What then?"

"Papa, you gave me my choice of what I would have for Wednesday."

"Yes. Is it my strawberry patch?"

"Not for myself, papa. I want you to have a great table set out of doors somewhere, and give a feast to all your work people."

"Daisy!" exclaimed Mrs. Randolph. "I never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life!"

Daisy waited with downcast eyes for her father to speak. He was not in a hurry.

"Would that give you pleasure, Daisy?"

"Yes, papa."

"Did Nora Dinwiddie put that scheme in your head?" asked Mrs.

Randolph.