Daisy was afraid to tell what.  Mr. Randolph again stooped and kissed her; kissed her two or three times.

“Papa, I do not mean to make you angry,” said the child with intense eagerness,—­“but—­suppose—­papa, I mean,—­are you a servant of the Lord Jesus?”

Mr. Randolph drew back.  “I endeavour to do my duty, Daisy,” he said coldly.  “I do not know what you include in the terms you use.”

“Papa, that is what I mean,” said Daisy, with a very meek face.  “Papa, if I am, and you are not, then perhaps you would not think the things that I think.”

“If you are, and I am not, what?”

“That, papa—­which I wanted you to know I am.  A servant of Jesus.”

“Then, what?”

“Then, papa, if I am, and you are not,—­wouldn’t you perhaps not think about those rules as I must think of them?”

“You mean that our thoughts would disagree?”

“Papa—­they might.”

“What shall we do, then, Daisy?”

Daisy looked wistfully and somewhat sadly at him.  There was more weight of thought under the little brow than he liked to see there.  This would not do; yet matters must be settled.

“Do you want to be a different little person from what you have been, Daisy, hitherto?”

“I don’t know, papa—­I think so.”

“How do you wish to be different?”

“I can’t tell, papa.  I might have to be.”

“I want you just as you are, Daisy.”

Mr. Randolph stooped his head down again to the too thoughtful little face.  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.  She was entirely silent for a little while, and Mr. Randolph sat watching her.  The struggle lasted some minutes; till she had overcome it somewhat she would not speak; and it was sharp.  Then the child closed her eyes and her face grew calm.  Mr. Randolph did not know what to think of her.