For some days after this time, Mrs. Randolph fancied that her little daughter was less lively than usual; she "moped," her mother said. Daisy was not moping, but it was true she had been little seen or heard; and then it was generally sitting with a book in the Belvidere or on a bank under a rose-bush, or going out or coming in with a book under her arm. Mrs. Randolph did not know that this book was almost always the Bible, and Daisy had taken a little pains that she should not know, guessing somehow that it would not be good for her studies. But her mother thought Daisy was drooping; and Daisy had been a delicate child, and the doctor had told them to turn her out in the country and "let her run;" therefore it was that she was hardly ever checked in any fancy that came into her head. But therefore it was partly, too, that Mrs. Randolph tried to put books and thinking as far from her as she could. "Daisy," she said one morning at the breakfast-table, "would you like to go with June and carry some nice things down to Mrs. Parsons?" "How, mamma?" "How what? Do speak distinctly." "How shall I go, I mean?" "You may have the carriage. I cannot go, this morning or this afternoon." "O papa, mayn't I take Loupe and drive there myself?" If Daisy had put the question at the other end of the table, there would have been an end of the business, as she knew. As it was, her father's "yes" got out just before her mother's "no." "Yes she may," said Mr. Randolph--"no harm. John, tell Sam that he is to take the black pony and go with the pony-chaise whenever Miss Daisy drives. Daisy, see that he goes with you." "Well," said Mrs. Randolph, "you may do as you like, but I think it is a very unsafe proceeding. What's Sam?--he's a boy." "Safe enough," said Mr. Randolph. "I can trust all three of the party; Daisy, Loupe, and Sam. They all know their business, and they will all do it." "Well!--I think it is very unsafe," repeated Mrs. Randolph. "Mamma," said Daisy, when she had allowed a moment to pass--"what shall I take to Mrs. Parsons." "You must go and see Joanna about that. You may make up whatever you think will please her or do her good. Joanna will tell you." And Mrs. Randolph had the satisfaction of seeing that Daisy's eyes were lively enough for the rest of breakfast-time, and her colour perceptibly raised. No sooner was breakfast over than she flew to the consultation in the housekeeper's room. Joanna was the housekeeper, and Mrs. Randolph's right hand; a jewel of skill and efficiency; and as fully satisfied with her post and power in the world, at the head of Mr. Randolph's household, as any throned emperor or diademed queen; furthermore, devoted to her employers as though their concerns had been, what indeed she reckoned them, her own. "Mrs. Randolph didn't say anything to me about it," said this piece of capability,--"but I suppose it isn't hard to manage. Who is Mrs. Parsons? that's the first thing."