She did not want to come any nearer the subject of the picture in talking with Dr.Sandford.His mind was different, and he went on.
"What is the trial of skill about, Daisy ?" The child hesitated, and then said, speaking low and most unchildlike-- "It is about a human soul." "And what do you understand are the powers at work--or at play ?" "It is not play," said Daisy.
"Answer Dr.Sandford, Daisy," said her father.
"Papa," said the child, "it isn't play.

The devil tries to make people do wrong--and if they try to do right, then there is a--" "A what ?" "I don't know--a fight, papa." Mr.Randolph again felt a tremor, a nervous trembling, pass over Daisy.
"You do not suppose, my darling," he said softly, "that such a fight goes on with anything like this horrible figure that your cousin Preston has made himself ?" "I do not suppose he looks like that, papa." "I do not think there is such a personage at all, Daisy.

I am sure you need not trouble your little head with thinking about it." Daisy made no answer.
"There is a struggle always going on, no doubt, between good and evil; but we cannot paint good and evil without imagining shapes for them." "But papa,--" said Daisy, and stopped.

It was no place or time for talking about the matter, though her father spoke low.

She did not want even Dr.Sandford to hear.
"What is it, Daisy ?" "Yes," said the doctor, "I should like to know what the argument is." "Papa," said Daisy, awesomely,--"there is a _place_ prepared for the devil and his angels." Mr.Randolph was silent now.