"You know how you like _him_," Dr. Sandford said pointedly.

"Yes."

"My dear, you made him the most beautiful reverence that I
ever knew a woman could make; grace and homage in perfection;
but there was something else in it, Daisy, something more;
something most exquisitely expressed. What was it, Grant?"

"You ought to know," said the doctor, with a grim smile.

"I do, I suppose, only I cannot tell the word for it. Daisy,
have you ever seen the President before?"

"When he passed through New York," I said. "I stood in the
street to see him."

Dr. Sandford's eyes opened upon me. His sister-in-law
exclaimed,

"You could not see him _then_, child. But you like him, don't
you? Well, they tell all sorts of stories about him; but I do
not believe half of them."

I thought, I could believe all the good ones.

"But Grant, you never can keep Daisy here," Mrs. Sandford went
on. "It would be hazardous in the extreme."

"Not very," said the doctor. "Nobody else is going to stay; it