"What do you want, child?"

The answer came very low, but though Daisy did not want to listen she
could not help hearing.

"Mother wants a pound of ham, sir."

"Have you brought the money for the flour?"

"No, sir--mother'll send it."

"We don't cut our hams any more," said the storekeeper. "Can't sell any
less than a whole one--and that's always cash. There! go child--I can't
cut one for you."

Daisy looked after the little ragged frock as it went out of the door.
The extreme mystery of some people being rich and some people poor,
struck her anew, and perhaps something in her look as it came back to
the storekeeper made him say,

"They're very poor folks, Miss Randolph--the mother's sickly, and I
should only lose my money. They came and got some flour of me yesterday
without paying for it--and it's necessary to put a stop to that kind of
thing at once. Don't you think that basket'll suit, ma'am?"

Baskets? and what meant those words which had been over and over in
Daisy's mind for the few days past?--"Whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them." Her mind was in great
confusion.