"Ay. Just that."

"But it would want to be in the greenhouse when winter comes."

"Any place where it wouldn't freeze," said Logan. "You see, it'll be in a pot e'en now, Miss Daisy ? and you'll keep it in the pot; and the pot you'll sink in the ground till frost comes; and when the frost comes, it'll just come up as it is and go intil the poor body's house, and make a spot of summer for her in her house till summer comes again."

"Oh, Logan, that is an excellent thought!"

"Ay, Miss Daisy ? I'm glad ye approve it."

"And then she would have the flowers all winter."

"Ay ? if she served it justly."

The only thing now was to choose the geranium. Daisy was some time about it, there were so many to choose from. At last she suited herself with a very splendid new kind called the "Jewess" ? a compact little plant with a store of rich purple- red blossoms. Logan murmured as he took up the pot in which it was planted ? "Less than the best will never serve ye, Miss Daisy" ? but he did not grumble about it after all, and Daisy was content.

She was very content when she had got it in her pony-chaise and was driving off, with the magnificent purple-red blossoms at her feet. How exquisitely those delicate petals were painted, and marked with dashes of red and purple deeper than the general colour. What rich cl.u.s.ters of blossoms. Daisy gave only half an eye to her driving; and it was not till she had almost reached Melbourne gate that she discovered her trowel had been forgotten. She sent her attendant back for it and waited.

Loupe was always willing to stand, lazy little fat fellow that he was; and Daisy was giving her undivided attention to the purple "Jewess," with a sort of soft prayer going on all the while in her heart that her errand might be blessed; when she was suddenly interrupted.

"Why, where are you going, Daisy?"

"Where have you been, Preston?" said Daisy, as suddenly drawing up.

"Little Yankee!" said Preston. "Answer one question by another in that fashion? You mustn't do it, Daisy. What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I am waiting."

"What are you going to do, then?"

"I am going to drive."

"Do you usually carry a pot of geraniums for company?"

"No, not usually," said Daisy, smiling at him.

"Well, set out the pot of geraniums, and we will have a glorious ride, Daisy. I am going to the Fish's, to see some of Alexander's traps; and you shall go with me."

"Oh, Preston ? I am sorry; I cannot."

"Why?"

"I cannot this afternoon."

"Yes, you can, my dear little Daisy. In fact you _must_.

Consider ? I shall be going away before very long, and then we cannot take rides together. Won't you come?"

"Not now ? I cannot, Preston! I have got something to do first."

"What?"

"Something which will take me an hour or two. After that I could go."

"Scarcely, this afternoon. Daisy, it is a long drive to the Fish's. And they have beautiful things there, which you would like to see, I know you would. Come! go with me ? that's my own little Daisy."

Preston was on horseback, and looked very much in earnest. He looked very gay and handsome too, for he was well mounted, and knew how to manage himself and his horse. He wanted to manage Daisy too; and that was difficult. Daisy would have been tempted, and would have gone with him at the first asking; but the thought of Molly and her forlornness, and the words warm at her heart, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you"

? and a further sense that her visitations of Molly were an extraordinary thing and very likely to be hindered on short notice, kept her firm as a rock. She had an opportunity now in hand; she would not throw it away; not for any self- gratification. And to tell the truth, no sort of self- gratification could balance for a moment in Daisy's mind the thought of Molly's wearing a crown of gold in heaven.. That crown of gold was before Daisy's eyes; nothing else was worth a thought in comparison.

"Are you going to see that wretched old being?" said Preston, at last.

"Yes."

"Daisy ? dear Daisy ? I do not know what to do with you. Do you like, is it possible that you can like, dirt and vulgarity?"

"I don't think I do," Daisy said, gently; "but, Preston, I like the poor people."

"You do!" said Preston. "Then it is manifest that you cannot like me." And he dashed spurs into his horse and sprung away, with a grace and life that kept Daisy looking after him in admiration, and a plain mood of displeasure which cast its shadow all over her spirit.

"Here is the trowel, Miss Daisy."

Her messenger had come back, and Daisy, recalled to the business in hand, took up her reins again and drove on; but she felt deeply grieved. Now and then her gauntleted hand even went up to her face to brush away a tear that had gathered. It was not exactly a new thing, nor was Daisy entirely surprised at the attempt to divert her from her purpose. She was wise enough to guess that Preston's' object had been more than the pleasure of her company; and she knew that all at home, unless possibly her father might be excepted, neither liked nor favoured her kindness to Molly, and would rejoice to interrupt the tokens of it. All were against her; and Daisy's hand went up again and again. "It is good I am weak and not very well,"

she thought; "as soon as I grow strong mamma will not let me do this any more. I must do all I can now."

So she came to the cripple's gate; and by that time the tears were all gone.

n.o.body was in the little courtyard; Daisy went in first to see how the rose looked. It was all safe and doing well. While she stood there before it, the cottage door opened and the poor inmate came out. She crawled down the walk on hands and knees till she got near Daisy, and then sat back to look at her.

"What do you want?" she said, in a most uninviting and ungracious tone of voice.

"I came to see you," said Daisy, venturing to let her eyes rest for the first time on those poor, restless, unloving eyes opposite her ? "and I wanted to see the rose, and I have brought you another flower ? if you will let me bring it in."

Her words were sweet as honey. The woman looked at her, and answered again with the unintelligible grunt, of unbelieving wonder, which Daisy had heard once before. Daisy thought on the whole the safest way was not to talk, but to fetch her beautiful "Jewess" flowers to speak for themselves. So she ran off and brought the pot, and set it on the ground before Molly. It was a great attraction; Daisy could see that at once. The cripple sat back gazing at it. Daisy prudently waited till her eyes came round again from the flowers and rested on her little visitor's face.

"Where shall I put it?" said Daisy. "Where would you like to have it go?"

Molly's eyes presently followed hers, roaming over the little flower plot in search of room for the geranium, which did not appear; prince's feather and marigolds so choked up the ground where balsams did not straggle over it. Molly looked as Daisy did at the possibilities of the case, looked again at the strange sweet little face which was so busy in her garden; and then made a sudden movement. With two or three motions of hands and knees she drew herself a few steps back to one of the exclusive bunches of balsams, and began with her two hands to root it up. Actually she was grubbing, might and main, at the ungainly stalks of the balsams, pulling them up as fast as she could and flinging them aside, careless where. Daisy came to help with her trowel, and together they worked, amicably enough but without a word, till the task was done. A great s.p.a.ce was left clear, and Molly threw herself back in her wonted position for taking observations. Daisy wasted no time.

In hopeful delight she went on to make a hole in the ground in which to sink the pot of geraniums. It was more of a job than she thought, and she dug away stoutly with her trowel for a good while before she had an excavation sufficient to hold the pot. Daisy got it in at last; smoothed the surface nicely all round it; disposed of the loose soil till the bed was trim and neat, as far as that was concerned; and then stood up and spoke. Warm, ? how warm she was! her face was all one pink flush, but she did not feel it, she was so eager.

"There," she said, "that will stand there nicely; and when the cold weather comes, you can take the pot up and take it into the house, just as it is; and if you do not let it freeze, it will have flowers for you in the winter."

"Cold?" said Molly.

"Yes ? by and by, when the cold weather comes, this must be taken up. The cold would kill it, if it was cold enough to freeze. It would have to go in the house. The rose can stay out all winter if you like; but this must be kept warm. This is a geranium. And it will give you flowers in the winter."

"J'anium?" said Molly.

"Yes. This is called the 'Jewess' ? there are so many kinds that they have to be named. This is the 'Jewess' geranium."

"Water?" ? said Molly.