Daisy is just the child to be ruined by it."

"You hear, Daisy," said Mr. Randolph, indolently, as he
lounged finally out of the room by an open window; which, as
did all the windows in the room, served for a door also. By
the door by which she had entered, Daisy silently withdrew
again, making no effort to change the resolution of either of
her parents. She knew it would be of no use; for excessively
indulgent as they both were in general, whenever they took it
upon them to exercise authority, it was unflinchingly done.
Her father would never even hear a supplication to reconsider
a judgment, especially if pronounced at the desire of her
mother. So Daisy knew.

It was a disappointment, greater than anybody thought or would
have guessed, that saw her. She went out to the large porch
before the door, and stood there, with the same thoughtful
look upon her face, a little cast down now. Still she did not
shed tears about the matter, unless one time when Daisy's hand
went up to her brow rather quick, it was to get rid of some
improper suggestion there. More did not appear, either before
or after the sudden crunching of the gravel by a pair of light
wheels, and the coming up of a little Shetland pony, drawing a
miniature chaise.

"Hollo, Daisy! come along; he goes splendidly!"

So shouted the driver, a boy somewhat bigger than Daisy.

"Where are you going?"