she had ever seen it. The fields looked more gay in that clear early
light, and the dust was kept down by the freshness in the air. It was
delightful; and Loupe never went better. Daisy was a very good little
driver, and now the pony seemed to understand the feeling in her fingers
and waddled along at a goodly rate.

Crum Elbow was not a great many miles off, and in due time they reached
it. But Daisy found that other people kept earlier hours than her father
and mother at Melbourne. She saw the farmers were getting to work as she
went on; and in the houses of the village there were signs that
everybody was fully astir to the business of the day. It was a
scattering village; the houses and the churches stood and called to each
other across great spaces of fields and fences between; but just where
the crossing of two roads made a business point, there was a little more
compactness. There was the baker's, and the post-office, and two stores
and various other houses, and a blacksmith's shop. Up to the corner
where the principal store stood, came the pony and his mistress, and
forthwith out came Mr. Lamb the storekeeper, to see what the little pony
chaise wanted to take home; but Daisy must see for herself, and she got
out and went into the store.

"Baskets," said Mr. Lamb. "What sort of baskets?"

"Baskets to hold strawberries--little baskets," said Daisy.

"Ah! strawberry baskets. That, ma'am, is the article."

Was it? Daisy did not think so. The storekeeper had shewed her the kind
of baskets commonly used to hold strawberries for the market; containing
about half a pint. She remarked they were not large enough.

"No, ma'am? They are the kind generally used--regular strawberry
baskets--we have sold 'em nearly all out, but we've got a few left."

"They are not large enough, nor pretty enough," repeated Daisy.

"They'll look pretty when they get the strawberries in them," said the
storekeeper with a knowing look at her. "But here's a kind, ma'am, are a
little neater--may be you would like these--What do you want, child?"

There had come into the store just after Daisy a little poor-looking
child, who had stood near, watching what was going on. Daisy turned to
look at her as Mr. Lamb's question was thrown at her over the counter,
in a tone very different from his words to herself. She saw a pale,
freckled, pensive-faced little girl, in very slim clothing, her dress
short and ragged, and feet bare. The child had bee