at the roots of her balsam; the earth-stained
fingers and the old brown stuff dress, which was of course dragged along
in the dirt too, made a sad contrast with the spotless freshness of the
little motionless figure that was at her side, almost touching her.
Daisy concluded to wait till she should be seen, and then speak, though
how to speak she did not very well know and she rather dreaded the
moment.

It came, when in throwing her weeds aside a glance of the cripple saw,
instead of stones and grass, two very neat and black and well shaped
little shoes planted there almost within reach of her hand. She drew
herself back from the balsam and looked sideways up, to see what the
shoes belonged to. Daisy saw her face then; it was a bad face; so
disagreeable that she looked away from it instantly to the balsams.

"What are you doing to your flowers?" she asked gently. The gentle
little child voice seemed to astonish the woman, although after an
instant she made surly answer,--

"Whose business is it?"

"Wouldn't it be easier," said Daisy, not looking at her, "if you had
something to help you get the weeds up? Don't you want a fork, or a hoe,
or something?"

"I've got forks," said the cripple sullenly. "I use 'em to eat with."

"No, but I mean, something to help you with the weeds," said
Daisy--"that sort of fork, or a trowel."

The woman spread her brown fingers of both hands, like birds' claws,
covered with the dirt in which she had been digging. "I've got forks
enough," she said savagely--"them's what goes into my weeds. Now go
'long!--"

The last words were uttered with a sudden jerk, and as she spoke them
she plunged her hands into the dirt, and bringing up a double handful
cast it with a spiteful fling upon the neat little black shoes. Woe to
white stockings, if they had been visible; but Daisy's shoes came up
high and tight around her ankle, and the earth thrown upon them fell off
easily again; except only that it lodged in the eyelet holes of the boot
lacing and sifted through a little there, and some had gone as high as
the top of the boot and fell in. Quite enough to make Daisy
uncomfortable, besides that the action half frightened her. She quitted
the ground, went back to her pony chaise without even attempting to do
anything with the contents of her basket. Daisy could go no further with
her feet in this condition. She turned the pony's head and drove back to
Melbourne.

CHAPTER X.

"Will I t