rd built a house for her,--just the other side o' them trees."

Daisy knew who Juanita was. She had been brought from the West Indies by
the mother of one of the gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood; and
upon the death of her mistress had been established in a little house of
her own. Daisy judged that she would be quite safe in going there for
water.

"If I turn into that road, can I go home round that way, Sam?"

"You can, Miss Daisy; but it's a ways longer."

"I like that," said Daisy.

She turned up the road that led behind the trees, and presently saw
Juanita's cottage. A little grey stone house, low-roofed, standing at
the very edge of a piece of woodland, and some little distance back from
the road. Daisy saw the old woman sitting on her doorstep. A grassy
slope stretched down from the house to the road. The sun shone up
against the grey cottage.

"You take care of Loupe, Sam, and I'll go in," said Daisy. A plan which
probably disappointed Sam, but Daisy did not know that. She went through
a little wicket and up the path.

Juanita did not look like the blacks she had been accustomed to see.
_Black_ she was not, but of a fine olive dark skin; and though certainly
old, she was still straight and tall and very fine in her appearance and
bearing. Daisy could see this but partially while Juanita was sitting at
her door; she was more struck by the very grave look her face wore just
then. It was not turned towards her little visiter, and Daisy got the
impression that she must be feeling unhappy.

Juanita rose however with great willingness to get the water, and asked
Daisy into her house. Daisy dared not, after her father's prohibition,
go in, and she stood at the door till the water was brought. Then with a
strong feeling of kindness towards the lonely and perhaps sorrowful old
woman, and remembering to "do good as she had opportunity," Daisy
suddenly offered her the beautiful rose-branch.

"Does the lady think I want pay for a glass of water?" said the woman,
with a smile that was extremely winning.

"No," said Daisy,--"but I thought, perhaps, you liked flowers."

"There's another sort of flowers that the Lord likes,"--said the woman
looking at her; "they be his little children."

Daisy's heart was tender, and there was something in Juanita's face that
won her confidence. Instead of turning away, she folded her hands
unconsciously and said, more wistfully than she knew, "I want to be
one!"

"Does m