"June! what, by inspiration? June is a fine month, I know--for strawberries--but I had no idea----" "No, no," said Daisy, half laughing,--"I mean my June--there she is; I got it from her." "Hollo!" cried Gary. "Come here, my good woman--Powers of Darkness! Is your name June?" "Yes sir, if you please," the woman said, in her low voice, dropping a courtesy. "Well, nobody offers more attractions--in a name," said Gary;--"I'll say that for you. Where did you get that song your little mistress was singing when we came down the hill? Can you sing it?" June's reply was unintelligible. "Speak louder, my friend. _What_ did you say?" June made an effort. "If you please, sir, I can't sing," she was understood to say. "They sings it in camp meeting." "In camp meeting!" said Gary. "I should think so! What's that! You see I have never been there, and don't understand." "If you please, sir--the gentleman knows"--June said, retreating backwards as she spoke, and so fast that she soon got out of their neighbourhood. The shrinking, gliding action accorded perfectly with the smothered tones and subdued face of the woman. "Don't _she_ know!" said Gary. "Isn't that a character now? But, Daisy, are you turning Puritan?" "I don't know what that is," said Daisy. "Upon my word you look like it! It's a dreadful disease, Daisy;--generally takes the form of--I declare I don't know!--fever, I believe, and delirium; and singing is one of the symptoms." "You don't want to stop her singing?" said Capt. Drummond. "That sort? yes I do. It wouldn't be healthy, up at the house. Daisy, sing that gipsy song from 'The Camp in Silesia,' that I heard you singing a day or two ago." "'The Camp in Silesia?'" said Capt. Drummond. "Daisy, can you sing _that_?" "Whistles it off like a gipsy herself," said Gary. "Daisy, sing it." "I like the other best," said Daisy. But neither teasing nor coaxing could make her sing again, either the one or the other. CHAPTER IX. It was bright morning, the pony chaise at the door, and Daisy in it; standing to arrange matters. "Now, Daisy, have you got all in there? I don't believe it." "Why don't you believe it?" "How much will that concern hold?" "A great deal more than you want. There's a big box under all the seat." "What have you got in it?" Daisy went off into a laugh, such a laugh of glee as did her father's heart good. Mr. Randolph was standing in the doorway to see the expedition set forward. "What's the matter, Daisy?" he said. "Papa, he don't think anybody is a person of forethought but himself." It was Preston's turn to laugh, and Mr. Randolph joined him. "Shews he don't know you, Daisy, as well as I do. When do you expect to be home again?" Mr. Randolph had come down to the side of the chaise and was looking with a very pleased face at what was in it. Daisy said she supposed they would stay till Preston had caught as many fish as he wanted. "And won't you be tired before that?"