"I can have nothing to do with it. And I will have nothing. I
would rather be poor, as poor as old Darry and Maria, than
take what belongs to them. Miss Cardigan, so would you."

She settled herself back in her chair, like a person who has
got a new thought. "My dear child!" she said. And then she
said nothing more. I did not wish she should. I wanted no
counsel, nor to hear any talk about it. I had only spoken so
much, as thinking she had a right to hear it. I went back into
my own meditations.

"Daisy, my child," she said suddenly after a while, - "there
is only one thing to be said; and the word is not mine. 'If
the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated
you."

"Why, Miss Cardigan," said I, smiling, "do you think the,
world will hate me for such a thing?"

"It hates all those who pretend to tell it is wrong."

"I do not pretend to tell it anything," I said.

"There is no preaching like that of the life. Daisy, have you
well considered this matter?"

"For years."

"Then I'll know how to pray for you," she said. And there our