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"Water? No, this does not need water, because the roots are in a pot, you know, and have not been disturbed. It will want water if rain don't come, by and by."
"What's you?" was Molly's next question, given with more directness.
"Me? I am Daisy Randolph. And I love flowers; and you love flowers. May I come and see you sometimes? Will you let me?"
Molly's grunt this time was not unintelligible. It was queer, but there was certainly a tone of a.s.sent in it. She sat looking now at the "Jewess" blossoms and now at Daisy.
"And I love Jesus," the child went on. "Do you love Him?"
The grunt was of pure question, in answer to this speech.
Molly did not understand. Daisy stooped down to face her on more equal terms.
"There is a great King up in heaven, who loves you, Molly. He loves you so well that He died for you. And if you love Him, He will take you there when you die and give you a white robe and a crown of gold, and make you blessed."
It is impossible to describe the simple earnestness of this speech. Daisy said it, not as a philosopher nor as even a preacher would have done; she said it as a child. As she had received, she gave. The utter certainty and sweetness of her faith and love went right from one pair of eyes to the other.
Nevertheless, Molly's answer was only a most ignorant and blank, "What?" ? but it told of interest.
"Yes," said Daisy. "Jesus loved us so well that He came and died for us ? He shed His blood that we might be forgiven our sins. And now He is a Great King up in heaven; and He knows all we do and all we think; and if we love Him He will make us good and take us to be with Him, and give us white robes and crowns of gold up there. He can do anything, for He raised up dead people to life, when He was in the world."
That was a master-stroke of Daisy's. Molly's answer was again a grunt of curiosity; and Daisy, crouching opposite to her, took up her speech, and told her at length and in detail the whole story of Lazarus. And if Daisy was engaged with her subject, so certainly was Molly. She did not stir hand or foot; she sat listening movelessly to the story, which came with such loving truthfulness from the lips of her childish teacher. A teacher exactly fitted, however, to the scholar; Molly's poor closed-up mind could best receive any truth in the way a child's mind would offer it; but in this truth, the undoubting utterance of Daisy's love and belief won entrance for her words where another utterance might not. Faith is always catching.
So Daisy told the wonderful story, and displayed the power and love and tenderness of the Lord with the affection of one who knew Him _her_ Lord, and almost with the zeal of an eye-witness of his work. It was almost to Daisy so; it seemed to her that she had beheld and heard the things she was telling over; for faith is the substance of things not seen; and the grief of the sisters, and their joy, and the love and tenderness of the Lord Jesus, were all to her not less real than they were to the actors in that far distant drama. Molly heard her throughout, with open mouth and marvelling eyes.
Neither of them had changed her position, and indeed Daisy had scarce finished talking, when she heard herself hailed from the road. She started. Preston was there on horseback, calling to her. Daisy got up and took up her trowel.
"Good-bye," she said, with a little sigh for the lost vision which Preston's voice had interrupted ? "I'll come again, I hope." And she ran out at the gate.
"It is time for you to go home, Daisy. I thought you did not know how late it is."
Daisy mounted into her pony-chaise silently.
"Have I interrupted something very agreeable?"
"You would not have thought it so," said Daisy, diplomatically.
"What were you doing, down there in the dirt?"
"Preston, if you please, I cannot talk to you nicely while you are so high and I am so low."
Preston was certainly at some height above Daisy, being mounted up in his saddle on a pretty high horse, while the pony-chaise was hung very near the ground. He had been beside her; but at her last words he laughed and set off at a good pace in advance, leaving the chaise to come along in Loupe's manner. Daisy drove contentedly home through the afternoon sunlight, which laid bands of brightness across her road all the way home. They seemed bands of joy to Daisy.
Preston had galloped ahead, and was at the door ready to meet her. "What kept you so long at that dismal place?" he asked, as he handed her out of the chaise.
"You were back very soon from the Fish place, I think," said Daisy.
"Yes ? Alexander was not at home; there was no use in my staying. But what were you doing all that while, Daisy?"
"It was not so very long," said Daisy. "I did not think it was a long time. You must have deceived yourself."
"But do you not mean to tell me what you were about? What _could_ you do, at such a place?"
Daisy stood on the piazza, in all the light of the afternoon sunbeams, looking and feeling puzzled. How much was it worth while to try to tell Preston of her thoughts and wishes?
"What was the attraction, Daisy? only tell me that. Dirt and ignorance and rudeness and disorder ? and you contented to be in the midst of it! Down in the dirt! What was the attraction?"
"She is very unhappy, Preston."
"I don't believe it. Nonsense! All that is not misery to such people, unless you make it so by showing them something different. Marble tables are not the thing for them, Daisy."
"Marble tables!" echoed Daisy.
"Nor fuchsias and geraniums either. That old thing's old flowers do just as well."
Daisy was silent. She could have answered this. Preston went on.
"She won't be any better with her garden full of roses and myrtles, than she is with her sunflowers now. What do you expect to do, little Daisy?"
"I know what I would like if I were in her place," said Daisy.
"_You_, ? but she is not you. She has not your tastes. Do you mean to carry her a silver cup and fork, Daisy? You would certainly like that, if you were in her place. Dear little Daisy, don't you be a mad philosopher."
But Daisy had not been thinking of silver cups and forks, and she was not misled by this argument.
"Daisy, do you see you have been under a mistake?"
"No, Preston," ? she said, looking up at him.
"Daisy, do you think it is _right_ for you to go into houses and among people where my uncle and aunt do not wish you to go?
You know they do not wish it, though they have given consent, perhaps because you were so set upon it."
Daisy glanced behind her at the windows of the library; for they were at the back entrance of the house; and then seizing Preston's hand, and saying, "Come with me," she drew him down the steps and over the gra.s.s till she reached one of the garden seats under the trees, out of hearing of any one. There they sat down; Preston curious, Daisy serious and even doubtful.
"Preston" ? she began with all her seriousness upon her, ? "I wish I had the book here, but I will tell you. When the Lord Jesus comes again in glory, and all the angels with Him, He will have all the people before Him, and He will separate them into two sets. One will be on the right and one on the left.
One set will be the people that belong to Him, and the other set will be the people that do not belong to Him. Then He will welcome the first set, and bless them, because they have done things to the poor and miserable such as they would have liked to have done to themselves. And He will say ? 'Inasmuch as ye have clone it to one of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me.' " Daisy's eyes were full of water by this time.
"So you are working to gain heaven, Daisy?" said Preston, who did not know how to answer her.
"Oh, no!" said the child. "I don't mean that."
"Yes, you do."
"No, ? that would be doing it for oneself, not for the Lord Jesus" ? said Daisy, gravely looking at Preston.
"Then I don't see what you mean by your story."
"I mean only, that Jesus likes to have us do to other people what we would want in their place."
"Suppose you were in my aunt and uncle's place ? do you not think you would like to have a little daughter regard their wishes?"