"No, no; it is just the other way," said Daisy. "You have been getting rich lately, and now you are poor again." She came near and laid her hands on his. "Oh father, can't you see? It is a real great danger. If you keep this money, you'll love it again as much as ever, and then you will not care to hear about God, or to do His will. And when you die you will have no Saviour—no Heaven. Think, how dreadful." "No—Heaven!" repeated Isaac. "Not if you love this money best, father. It will come between you and God, and cut you off from Heaven. Oh, you had much much better put it behind the fire." "Why, Daisy!" Isaac said in amaze, quite roused up. "Why, Daisy, you're mad. You wouldn't have me throw it into the fire. It's gold, Daisy—gold." "Yes, poor miserable gold," said Daisy. "It is gold, father, real gold. I know that. You love those gold pieces dearly; more than you love me." "No, no, I don't know as I'd say that, Daisy," put in the old man, with a gleam of his late affection for her. "More than you love God, father." Isaac was silent. "And yet they can't give you back any love,—they can't help you,—and when you die, you will have to leave them all behind. What will you do then? O father, think, is it worth while?" asked Daisy, and tears streamed from her eyes. Isaac looked uneasily at her. "I think it is like that text," said Daisy, "'What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul, or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' The bag of gold is 'the whole world' to you just now, father." "What 'ud you have me do, Daisy?" asked Isaac, with a perplexed air, and Daisy's heart sprang. "I'd have you give up the gold, father," she cried eagerly. "It isn't safe for you to keep. It shall be taken care of for you; and we shall have plenty of money coming in every quarter to keep us going; plenty, for I mean to be very careful. And Mr. Roper will arrange it all for us. But if you keep that gold and love it so, father, you'll never be really happy. It will hang on you like a weight, and drag you back from serving God. Won't you give it up?" There came a long pause. Isaac seemed to be thinking, with his head sunk on his chest. Daisy's hand lay still upon his. "Father, the Lord Jesus loved you and died for you," she said softly, after a while. "And He wants you to love Him and serve Him. But I don't see how you can, if you keep that gold and love it best of all." "No, I don't see how I can," echoed old Isaac. Then, quite suddenly, quite unexpectedly, he pulled out the wash-leather bag, and held it with both hands towards Daisy. "Take it all, Daisy—quick—quick," he said. "And don't you ever let me set eyes on it again."