Melbourne House Part 18

"Mamma," said Daisy, "what is an original?"

"Something your aunt says you are. Do you like some of this _biscuit_, Daisy?"

"If you please, mamma. And mamma, what do you mean by a fanatic?"

"Something that I will not have you," said her mother, with knitting brow again.

Daisy slowly eat her biscuit-glace and wondered ? wondered what it could be that Mr. Dinwiddie was, and that her mother was determined she should not be.

Mr. Dinwiddie was a friend of poor people ? was that what her mother meant? He was a devoted, unflinching servant of Christ; ? "so will I be," said Daisy to herself; "so I am now; for I have given the Lord Jesus all I have got, and I don't want to take anything back. Is that what mamma calls being a fanatic?"

? Daisy's meditations were broken off; for a general stir round the table made her look up.

The table was cleared, and the servants were bringing on the fruit; and with the fruit they were setting on the table a beautiful old fas.h.i.+oned silver epergne, that was never used but for great occasions. Generally it was adorned with fruit and flowers; to-day it was empty, and the attendants proceeded to arrange upon it very strange looking things; packages in white paper, books, trinkets, what not; and in the middle of all a little statuette of a Grecian nymph, which was a great favourite of Daisy's. Daisy began to guess that the epergne had something to do with her birthday. But the nymph? ?

perhaps she came there by her beauty to dignify this use made of the stately old thing. However, she forgot all about fanatics and Mr. Dinwiddie for the present. The looks and smiles of the company were unmistakable. Who would speak first?

"How are you to reach the epergne, Daisy?" said her father.

"Shall I be the medium?" said Mrs. Gary. "These things are to travel up to Daisy, I suppose."

"I will represent the rolling stock of this road, and undertake to carry parcels safely," said Mr. McFarlane. "Any message with the goods, Mrs. Gary?"

"I believe they carry their own message with them," said the lady; ? "or else I don't see what is the use of these little white tickets. Where shall I begin, Mr. Randolph?"

"I do not think the order of proceedings will be criticized, provided it does not delay," said Daisy's father.

"Then transmit this, Gary."

"Literary freight" ?said Gary McFarlane, handing over to Daisy a little parcel of books. Five or six little volumes, in pretty binding ? Daisy looked eagerly to see what they might be. "Marmion" ? "The Lady of the Lake" ? "Scott's Poetical Works."

"Oh, thank you, papa!" said Daisy, looking delighted.

"Not me," said Mr. Randolph. "I am not to be thanked."

"There's no name in them ?" said Daisy.

"That's Preston's gift," said her aunt. Preston was Daisy's oldest cousin; a fine boy of sixteen.

"I like it so much, Preston!" said Daisy, sending a grateful look down the table to where he sat.

"Is Daisy fond of poetry?" inquired Mr. McFarlane, with a grave look.

"Very fond," Mrs. Randolph said.

"Dangerous taste!" said Gary. "What is this new consignment?"

"Something valuable ? take care of it."

"To be taken with care ? right side up," said Gary, putting before Daisy by a stretch of his long arm a little paper covered package. Daisy's cheeks were beginning to grow pink.

She unfolded the package.

A little box ? then white cotton ? then a gold bracelet.

"Mamma? ?" said Daisy instantly. Mrs. Randolph stooped and kissed her. "It's beautiful, mamma!" Daisy spoke very earnestly; however, her face did not show the light of pleasure which the first gift had called into it.

"How did you know so well?" said Mr. McFarlane. "Mrs.

Randolph, I am afraid you are not literary. Now Daisy, exercise your discernment upon that."

It was a little box containing a Chinese puzzle, with the plans and keys belonging to it.

"Where do you think that comes from?"

Daisy looked up. "I think ? perhaps ? from you, Mr.

McFarlane."

"Do you think I am anything like a puzzle?"

"I think ? perhaps ? you mean to be," ? Daisy said, innocently. But a shout from the whole tableful answered to this chance hit. Daisy didn't know what they could mean.

"I have done!" said Gary. "I have got more than my match. But I know who will plague people worse than a puzzle, if she gets well educated. There's a pair of gloves, you little fencer."

It was a nice little thick pair of riding or driving gloves; beautifully made and ornamented. These came from Eloise, Daisy's other cousin. Mrs. Gary had brought her two beautiful toilet bottles of Bohemian gla.s.s. Daisy's end of the table was growing full.

"What is this?" said Mrs. Gary, taking from the epergne a sealed note directed to Daisy.

"That is Ransom's present. Give her mine first," said Mr.

Randolph.

"Which is yours? I don't see anything more."

"That little Proserpine in the middle."

"_This?_ Are you going to give this to Daisy? But why is she called Proserpine? I don't see."

"Nor I," said Mr. Randolph, "only that everything must have a name. And this damsel is supposed to have been carrying a basket, which might easily have been a basket of flowers, I don't see how the statement could be disproved. And Daisy is fonder of the little nymph, I believe, than any one else in the house.

"Oh, papa! thank you," exclaimed Daisy, whose eyes sparkled.

"I like to have her very much!"

"Well, here she goes," said Mrs. Gary. "Hand her over. You have a variety, Daisy. Chinese playthings and Grecian art."

"_Some_ modern luxury," said Gary McFarlane. "Just a little."

"Egyptian art, too," said Captain Drummond.

"Oh, where's my spoon?" cried Daisy. "Has papa got it?"

"Here is Ransom's present," said her aunt, handing the note.

"n.o.body knows what it is. Are we to know?"