Daisy | Page 4

many a story to hear; and Preston and I enjoyed ourselves. Aunt Gary was busy making visits, I think. There was a beautiful walk by the sea, which I liked best of all; and when it was not too cold my greatest pleasure was to sit there looking over the dark waters and sending my whole soul across them to that unknown spot where my father and mother were. "Home," that spot was to me. Preston did not know what I liked the Esplanade for; he sometimes laughed at me for being poetical and meditative; when I was only sending my heart over the water. But he was glad to please me in all that he could; and whenever it was not too cold, our walks always took me there.
One day, sitting there, I remember we had a great argument about studying. Preston began with saying that I must not mind this governess that was coming, nor do anything she bade me unless I liked it. As I gave him no answer, he repeated what he had said.
"You know, Daisy, you are not obliged to care what she thinks."
I said I thought I was.
"What for?" said Preston.
"I have a great deal to learn, you know," I said, feeling it very gravely indeed in my little heart.
"What do you want to know so much?" said Preston.
I said, "everything". I was very ignorant.
"You are no such thing," said Preston. "Your head is full this minute. I think you have about as much knowledge as is good for you. I mean to take care that you do not get too much."
"Oh, Preston," said I, "that is very wrong. I have not any knowledge scarcely."
"There is no occasion," said Preston stoutly. "I hate learned women."
"Don't you like to learn things?"
"That's another matter," said he. "A man must know things, or he can't get along. Women are different."
"But I think it is nice to know things too," said I. "I don't see how it is different."
"Why, a woman need not be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a professor," said Preston; "all she need do, is to have good sense and dress herself nicely."
"Is dressing so important?" said I, with a new light breaking over me.
"Certainly. Ribbands of the wrong colour will half kill a woman. And I have heard aunt Randolph say that a particular lady was ruined by her gloves."
"Ruined by her gloves!" said I. "Did she buy so many?"
Preston went into such a laugh at that, I had to wait some time before I could go on. I saw I had made some mistake, and I would not renew that subject.
"Do you mean to be anything of that sort?" I said, with some want of connection.
"What sort? Ruined by my gloves? Not if I know it."
"No, no! I mean, a lawyer or a doctor or a professor?"
"I should think not!" said Preston, with a more emphatic denial.
"Then, what are you studying for?"
"Because, as I told you, Daisy, a man must know things, or he cannot get on in the world."
I pondered the matter, and then I said, I should think good sense would make a woman study too. I did not see the difference. "Besides, Preston," I said, "if she didn't, they would not be equal."
"Equal!" cried Preston. "Equal! Oh, Daisy, you ought to have lived in some old times. You are two hundred years old, at least. Now don't go to studying that, but come home. You have sat here long enough."
It was my last hour of freedom. Perhaps for that reason I remember every minute so distinctly. On our way home we met a negro funeral. I stopped to look at it. Something, I do not know what, in the long line of dark figures, orderly and even stately in their demeanour, the white dresses of the women, the peculiar faces of men and women both, fascinated my eyes. Preston exclaimed at me again. It was the commonest sight in the world, he said. It was their pride to have a grand funeral. I asked if this was a grand funeral. Preston said "Pretty well; there must be several hundred of them and they were well dressed." And then he grew impatient and hurried me on. But I was thinking; and before we got to the hotel where we lodged, I asked Preston if there were many coloured people at Magnolia.
"Lots of them," he said. "There isn't anything else."
"Preston," I said presently, "I want to buy some candy somewhere."
Preston was very much pleased, I believe, thinking that my thoughts had quite left the current of sober things. He took me to a famous confectioner's; and there I bought sweet things till my little stock of money was all gone.
"No more funds?" said Preston. Never mind, — go on, and I'll