Daisy wanted nothing of the kind.  To get home soon was no pleasure; so she let Loupe take his own pace, anything short of walking; and it was getting dusk when they reached Melbourne.  Daisy was not glad to be there.  It was Friday night; the next day would be Saturday.

Mrs. Randolph came out into the hall to see that nothing was the matter, and then went back into the drawing-room.  Daisy got her dress changed, and came there too, where the family were waiting for tea.  She came in softly and sat down by herself at a table somewhat removed from the others, who were all busily talking and laughing.  But presently Capt.  Drummond drew near and sat down at her side.

“Have you had a good drive, Daisy?”

“Yes, Capt.  Drummond.”

“We missed our history to-day, but I have been making preparations.  Shall we go into the Saxon Heptarchy to-morrow—­you and I—­and see if we can get the kingdom settled?”

“If you please.  I should like it very much.”

“What is the matter with you, Daisy?”

Daisy lifted her wise little face, which indeed looked as if it were heavy with something beside wisdom, towards her friend; she was not ready with an answer.

“You aren’t going to die on the field of battle yet, Daisy?” he said half lightly, and half he knew not why.  It brought a rush of colour to the child’s face; the self-possession must have been great which kept her from giving way to further expression of feeling.  She answered with curious calmness,

“I don’t think I shall, Capt.  Drummond.”

The Captain saw it was a bad time to get anything from her, and he moved away.  Preston came the next minute.

“Why Daisy,” he whispered, drawing his chair close, “where have you been all day?  No getting a sight of you.  What have you been about?”

“I have been to Crum Elbow this afternoon.”

“Yes, and how late you stayed.  Why did you?”

“Loupe lost a shoe.  I had to wait for Sam to go to the blacksmith’s with him.”

“Really.  Did you wait in the road?”

“No.  I had a place to wait.”

“I dare say you are as hungry as a bear,” said Preston.  “Now here comes tea—­and waffles, Daisy; you shall have some waffles and cream.  That will make you feel better.”

“Cream isn’t good with waffles,” said Daisy.

“Yes it is.  Cream is good with everything.  You shall try.  I know!  I am always cross myself when I am hungry.”

“I am not hungry, Preston; and I don’t think I am cross.”

“What are you, then?  Come, Daisy,—­here is a cup of tea, and here is a waffle.  First the sugar—­there,—­then the cream.  So.”

“You have spoiled it, Preston.”

“Eat it—­and confess you are hungry and cross too.”

Daisy could have laughed, only she was too sore-hearted, and would surely have cried.  She fell to eating the creamed waffle.