“Oh Ransom! you know—­”

“What do I know?”

“It’s no matter,” said little Daisy checking herself.

“Go ahead, and finish!  What is the use of breaking off?  That’s the way with girls;—­they don’t know how to speak English.  You may just as well say the whole of something ugly, as the half of it.”

If Daisy was tempted to comply with the request, she did not give way to the temptation; for she was silent; and in a mood less pleasant than her own apparently, Ransom took himself out of her presence.  Left alone, Daisy presently curled herself down on a couch, and being very tired fell asleep.

CHAPTER VI.

Daisy slept on, until a bustle and sounds of voices and laughter in the hall, and boots clattering over the marble and up the staircase, at last found their way into her ears.

The riding party had got home.  Daisy sat up and rubbed her eyes and looked out.

The sun was low, and shining from the western mountains over the tops of all the trees.  It was certainly near dinner-time; the cool glittering look of the light on the trees and shrubs could not be earlier than that.  What had become of the strawberry feast?  It seemed like a dream.  Daisy shook off the remains of her sleep and hurried out by one of the glass doors to go and see.  She ran down to the bank where the table was spread.  It was a feast over.  The company were gone, so were the baskets of strawberries; yes, and the very bouquets of flowers had been taken away.  That was a sign of pleasure.  Nothing was left but the disordered table.  Daisy hoped the people had had a good time, and slowly went back towards the house.  As she came near the library window she saw her father, standing in it.

“Well, Daisy?”

“Well, papa.”

“How has the feast gone off?”

“I don’t know, papa.  There’s nothing left but the boards and the cups and saucers.”

Mr. Randolph sat down and drew his little daughter up to his side.

“Have you enjoyed it, Daisy?”

“Yes, papa—­I have enjoyed it pretty well.”

“Only pretty well!—­for your birthday!  Do you think now you made a good choice, Daisy?”

“Yes, sir—­I think I did.”

“What has been wanting?  I am afraid your ham did not figure on the board, if it is so empty?”

Daisy did not answer, but her father watching her saw something in her face which made him pursue the subject.

“Did it?”

“No, papa,” said Daisy, colouring a little.

“How was that?”

“Joanna arranged everything that was to go on the table.”

“And left the ham out of the question?  It seems to me that was a mistake, though I am not much of a housekeeper.  Why was that?”

“Papa,” said Daisy, “do you think I would make a wrong use of a ham?”

Mr. Randolph laughed.  “Why Daisy, unless you are a finished economist, that might be.  Do you mean that I am not to know the particular use made of this ham?”