Daisy. Warner Susan

at things in general. He wanted to get me by myself, I knew, but he had no chance. Immediately after breakfast Miss Pinshon took possession of me.

      The day was less weary than the day before, only I think because I was tired beyond impatience or nervous excitement. Not much was done; for though I was very willing I had very little power. But the multiplication table, Miss Pinshon said, was easy work; and at that and reading and writing, the morning crept away. My hand was trembling, my voice was faint, my memory grasped nothing so clearly as Margaret's tears that morning, and Preston's behaviour the preceding day. My cheeks were pale, of course. Miss Pinshon said we would begin to set that right with a walk after dinner.

      The walk was had; but with my hand clasped in Miss Pinshon's I only wished myself at home all the way. At home again, after a while of lying down to rest, I was tried with a beginning of calisthenics. A trial it was to me. The exercises, directed and overseen by Miss Pinshon, seemed to me simply intolerable, a weariness beyond all other weariness. Even the multiplication table I liked better. Miss Pinshon was tired perhaps herself at last. She let me go.

      It was towards the end of the day. With no life left in me for anything, I strolled out into the sunshine: aimlessly at first; then led by a secret inclination I hardly knew or questioned, my steps slowly made their way round by the avenue to the stables. Darry was busy there as I had found him yesterday. He looked hard at me as I came up; and asked me earnestly how I felt that afternoon? I told him I was tired; and then I sat down on a huge log which lay there and watched him at his work. By turns I watched the sunlight streaming along the turf and lighting the foliage of the trees on the other side of the dell; looking in a kind of dream, as if I were not Daisy nor this Magnolia in any reality. I suddenly started and awoke to realities as Darry began to sing, —

      "My Father's house is built on high,

      Far, far above the starry sky;

      And though like Lazarus sick and poor,

      My heavenly mansion is secure.

      I'm going home, —

      I'm going home, —

      I'm going home

      To die no more!

      To die no more —

      To die no more —

      I'm going home

      To die no more!"

      The word "home" at the end of each line was dwelt upon in a prolonged sonorous note. It filled my ear with its melodious, plaintive breath of repose; it rested and soothed me. I was listening in a sort of trance, when another sound at my side both stopped the song and quite broke up the effect. It was Preston's voice. Now for it. He was all ready for a fight, and I felt miserably battered and shaken and unfit to fight anything.

      "What are you doing here, Daisy?"

      "I am doing nothing," I said.

      "It is almost tea-time. Hadn't you better be walking home, before Medusa comes looking out for you?"

      I rose up, and bade Uncle Darry good-night.

      "Good-night, missis," he said heartily, "and de morning dat hab no night, for my dear little missis, by'm by."

      I gave him my hand, and walked on.

      "Stuff!" muttered Preston, by my side.

      "You will not think it 'stuff' when the time comes," I said, no doubt very gravely. Then Preston burst out.

      "I only wish Aunt Felicia was here! You will spoil these people, Daisy, that's one thing, or you would if you were older. As it is, you are spoiling yourself."

      I made no answer. He went on with other angry and excited words, wishing to draw me out, perhaps; but I was in no mood to talk to Preston in any tone but one. I went steadily and slowly on, without even turning my head to look at him. I had hardly life enough to talk to him in that tone.

      "Will you tell me what is the matter with you?" he said, at last, very impatiently.

      "I am tired, I think."

      "Think? Medusa is stiffening the life out of you. Think you are tired! You are tired to death; but that is not all. What ails you?"

      "I do not think anything ails me."

      "What ails me, then? What is the matter? What makes you act so? Speak, Daisy – you must speak!"

      I turned about and faced him, and I know I did not speak then as a child, but with a gravity befitting fifty years.

      "Preston, did you strike Uncle Darry yesterday?"

      "Pooh!" said Preston. But I stood and waited for his answer.

      "Nonsense, Daisy!" he said again.

      "What is nonsense?"

      "Why, you. What are you talking about?"

      "I asked you a question."

      "A ridiculous question. You are just absurd."

      "Will you please to answer it?"

      "I don't know whether I will. What have you to do with it?"

      "In the first place, Preston, Darry is not your servant."

      "Upon my word!" said Preston. "But yes, he is; for mamma is regent here now. He must do what I order him anyhow."

      "And then, Preston, Darry is better than you, and will not defend himself; and somebody ought to defend him; and there is nobody but me."

      "Defend himself!" echoed Preston.

      "Yes. You insulted him yesterday."

      "Insulted him!"

      "You know you did. You know, Preston, some men would not have borne it. If Darry had been like some men, he would have knocked you down."

      "Knocked me down!" cried Preston. "The sneaking old scoundrel! He knows that I would shoot him if he did."

      "I am speaking seriously, Preston. It is no use to talk that way."

      "I am speaking very seriously," said my cousin. "I would shoot him, upon my honour."

      "Shoot him!"

      "Certainly."

      "What right have you to shoot a man for doing no worse than you do? I would rather somebody would knock me down, than do what you did yesterday." And my heart swelled within me.

      "Come, Daisy, be a little sensible!" said Preston, who was in a fume of impatience. "Do you think there is no difference between me and an old nigger?"

      "A great deal of difference," I said. "He is old and good; and you are young, and I wish you were as good as Darry. And then he can't help himself without perhaps losing his place, no matter how you insult him. I think it is cowardly."

      "Insult!" said Preston. "Lose his place! Heavens and earth, Daisy! are you such a simpleton?"

      "You insulted him badly yesterday. I wondered how he bore it of you; only Darry is a Christian."

      "A fiddlestick!" said Preston impatiently. "He knows he must bear whatever I choose to give him; and therein he is wiser than you are."

      "Because he is a Christian," said I.

      "I don't know whether he is a Christian or not; and it is nothing to the purpose. I don't care what he is."

      "Oh, Preston! he is a good man – he is a servant of God; he will wear a crown of gold in heaven; and you have dared to touch him."

      "Why, hoity, toity!" said Preston, "what concern of mine is all that! All I know is, that he did not do what I ordered him."

      "What did you order him?"

      "I ordered him not to show you the saddle I had got for you, till I was here. I was going to surprise you. I am provoked at him!"

      "I am surprised," I said. But feeling how little I prevailed with Preston, and being weak in body as well as mind, I could not keep back the tears. I began to walk on again, though they blinded me.

      "Daisy, don't be foolish. If Darry is to wear two crowns in the other world, he is a servant in this,