"Thinking exhausts me, Daisy. It is too hot to-day for such an
exercise."

Daisy drew back and looked at him, with one hand resting on his
shoulder. She did not dare urge any more in words; her look spoke her
anxious, disappointed questioning of her father's meaning. Perhaps he
did not care to meet such a gaze of inquiry, for he pulled her down
again in his arms.

"I do not want you to be an old woman."

"But, papa--that is not the thing."

"I will not have it, Daisy."

"Papa," she said with a small laugh, "what shall I do to help it? I do
not know how I came to be an old woman."

"Go off and play with Nora Dinwiddie. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, papa--except my hat and gloves."

"Do not think anymore to-day. I will think for you by and by. But Daisy,
why should you and I set ourselves up to be better than other people?"

"How, papa?"

"Do you know anybody else that lives up to your views on the subject of
thanksgiving?"