"I am tired, I think."
"Think? Medusa is stiffening the life out of you. _Think_ you
are tired! You are tired to death; but that is not all. What
ails you?"
"I do not think anything ails me."
"What ails _me_, then? What is the matter? what makes you act
so? Speak, Daisy — you must speak!"
I turned about and faced him, and I know I did not speak then
as a child, but with a gravity befitting fifty years.
"Preston, did you strike Uncle Darry yesterday?"
"Pooh!" said Preston. But I stood and waited for his answer.
"Nonsense, Daisy!" he said again.
"What is nonsense?"
"Why, _you_. What are you talking about?"
"I asked you a question."
"A ridiculous question. You are just absurd."
"Will you please to answer it?"
"I don't know whether I will. What have you to do with it?"
"In the first place, Preston, Darry is not your servant."
"Upon my word!" said Preston. "But, yes, he is; for mamma is
regent here now. He must do what I order him, anyhow."
"And then, Preston, Darry is better than you, and will not
defend himself; and somebody ought to defend him; and there is
nobody but me.
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