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"Miss Daisy," said Poppy, aloud, "I have got exactly fifteen shillings in my purse, and that's the price of a third single to Rosebury, and no more. It's true enough I meant to go down there to-night, and never to see Aunt Flint again, but it's true also that she'd give her eyes to have me back, and was crying like anything when I said good-bye to her.
Daisy was in no condition to talk; she could hardly breathe that one word. She knew the tone of great displeasure in her father's voice. He saw her condition. "You are not able to sing at this minute," said he. "Go to your room I will give you ten minutes to recover yourself. Then, Daisy, come here and sing if you like to be at peace with me."
Don't you have anything to do with them, Daisy mind; not with one of them, unless I tell you who he is." "With one of whom? what are you speaking of?" "The cadets." "Why, I have nothing to do with them," I said. "How should I?" Preston looked at me curiously. "Nor at the hotel, neither, Daisy more than you can help. Have nothing to say to the Yankees."
His nephew led the way to a writing-table, lit a cigarette which he stuck into the corner of his mouth, and in painstaking fashion wrote the few lines which Francis dictated. The ten pounds changed hands. "Have one with me for luck?" the young man invited brightly. "No? Perhaps you're right," he added, in valedictory fashion. "You'd better keep your head clear for Daisy!"
What is on hand, Daisy?" "Capt. Drummond," said Daisy with a very serious face, "do soldiers have a very hard time?" "Not always. Not when they are lying out under the trees at Melbourne, for example." "But I mean, when they are acting like soldiers?"
"I mean this Abe Lincoln the northern mudsills have picked up to make a President of. He used to get his living by splitting rails for a Western fence, Daisy Randolph." "But if he is President, he is President," I said. "For those that like him. We won't have him. Jefferson Davis is my President. And all I can do to help him I will. I can't fight; I wish I could.
Daisy I want to see you." I think it was one of the most difficult little things I ever had in my life to do, to raise my face and let him look at it; but I knew it must be done, and I did it. One glance at his I ventured.
The courteous doctor sprang out to hand Meta in, but something made him suddenly desire Adams to drive on, and then turning round to the two young people, he said, "Oh!" "Yes," said Norman, taking her hand, and drawing her towards him. "What, Meta, my pretty one, is it really so? Is he to be happy after all? Are you to be a Daisy of my own?"
"I am astonished at your want of gallantry. Preston, I shall depend on you to see that the chair is properly attended." "Which way are you going, sir?" "By myself to see if I can get a shot at something." Preston did not look delighted, Daisy saw, though he accepted the charge the doctor gave him. The doctor himself strode off with his gun, disappearing in the woods at the nearest point.
"Well, you know he's been pretty civil since he came, and he's backed us up in that row about Bickers, you know. We thought we'd get him a ring, you know. He's spoons on my sister Daisy, and Dig and I thought it would fetch him if we stuck `Chuckey' that's the pet name he calls her on it. Don't you think it would be a good dodge?
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