"Cornelius, you said before you went to Italy--" "What about the foolish things, I may have said years ago." he interrupted impatiently; "Surely," he added, looking down at me reproachfully, "surely, we have both outgrown that time." "I hope I have not outgrown my respect for you, Cornelius," I replied rather gravely. "Again!" he said with subdued irritation; "why don't, you ask to call me 'Papa?'" "I would if I thought you would say yes, Cornelius." "No, you would not," he answered reddening and looking vexed; "you know you would not. You know all this is mere childish talk." "Put me to the test!" I said laughing. "I dare you to do it." he replied hastily. "Take warning, and, if troubled with filial feelings, look out for some other paternal parent. C. O. R., Esq., is not the man." "When Louisa Scheppler asked the good Pastor Oberlin--he consented." Cornelius looked at me uneasily and tried to smile. "I know you are only jesting," he observed; "I know it, of course. But yet, Daisy, I would rather you did not." "Is the idea of a daughter so formidable?" I asked. "A daughter! Oh, Daisy!" exclaimed Cornelius a little desperately, "this is too childish! The next thing will be, that you will get out of the teens altogether, and go back to the little girl of ten whom I found here seven years ago." "And you don't want me to do that?" I said amused at the idea. He looked at me expressively. "Oh, no!" he murmured, "oh, no! Surely, you know yourself how charming you have grown." I smiled incredulously. I knew I was improved, but thought it was his affection which transformed a little freshness and colour into so comprehensive a word as charming. "I wonder you will never believe me," he said, looking half annoyed. "I wonder, what is your real opinion of yourself. I do not mean that conventional opinion of one's own inferiority, or at the best mediocrity which, under penalty of being hunted out from decent society, every civilized individual is bound to profess, but that honest opinion of our merits and defects, by which we judge ourselves in our own hearts. Do you mind answering that question?" "No, it is not worth minding." "Then answer it." "You must question me categorically. I have not a ready-made certificate of my good or bad points, to deliver on such short notice." "What do you think of Daisy morally?" "A good sort of girl; has received honest principles; devoutly believes she will never do anything very shocking." "What of her intellectually?" "Sensible, not brilliant." "What of her person?" "Like her mind--plain; but, thank Heaven, has the use of her limbs and senses." "And this common-place character is your real opinion of yourself!" exclaimed Cornelius almost indignantly. "My real opinion; but it is scarcely civil to tell me to my face that I am common-place." "I never said so. That is not my opinion of you, Daisy."