could have known what a contrast
it was to the bare little west gable at the cuckoo's nest, she could
have better understood the wonder in Betty's face.

"My room is pink, and Eugenia's green, and Joyce's blue," explained
Lloyd. "Mothah thought you would like this white and gold one best,
'cause it's like a daisy field."

Before Betty could express her admiration, Mrs. Sherman came in with an
old coloured woman whom she called Mom Beck, and who, she told Betty,
had been her own nurse as well as Lloyd's. "And she is anxious to see
you," added Mrs. Sherman, "for she remembers your mamma so well. Many a
time she helped dress her when she was a little girl no larger than you,
and came home with me for a visit. She'll bring you some milk or iced
tea, and fix your bath when you are ready for it. We are going to leave
you now for a little while and see if you can't have a nice little nap.
It has been a long, tiresome journey, and you need the rest more than
you realise."

Left to herself, Betty undressed and lay down as she had been bidden.
Her eyes were tired and she closed them sleepily, but they would not
stay shut. She was obliged to open them for another peep at the dear
little white dressing-table with its crystal candlesticks, that looked
like twisted icicles. And she must see that darling little heart-shaped
pin-cushion again, and all the dainty toilet articles of gold and ivory.
Then she could not resist another glance at the white Angora rugs lying
on the dark, polished floor, and the white screen before her wash-stand
with sprays of goldenrod painted across it, looking as natural as if
they had grown there.

Once she got up and pattered across the room in her nightgown to sit a
moment before the little writing-desk in the corner, and handle all its
dainty furnishings of gold and mother-of-pearl. There were thin white
curtains at the windows, held back by broad bands of yellow ribbon. They
stirred softly with every passing breeze, and fluttered and fluttered,
until by and by, watching them, Betty's eyelids fluttered, too, and she
closed them drowsily.

While she slept she dreamed that she was back in the cuckoo's nest
again, in her bare little room in the gable, and that a great white and
yellow daisy stood over her, shaking her by the shoulder and telling her
that it was time to go down and wash the breakfast dishes. Then the
broad white petals began to fall off one by one, and it was Davy's face
in the centr