Daisy?"

"My Egyptian spoon--it is a long, carved, wooden thing, with something
like a spoon at one end; it is quite brown. Look for it in the next
drawer, June, you will find it there. It don't look like a spoon."

"There is nothing like it in this drawer, Miss Daisy."

"Yes, it is. It is wrapped up in paper."

"Nothing here wrapped in paper," said June, rummaging.

"Aren't my chessmen there? and my Indian canoe? and my moccasins?--"

"Yes, Miss Daisy, all them's here."

"Well, the spoon is there too, then; it was with the canoe and the
moccasins."

"It ain't here, Miss Daisy."

"Then look in all the other drawers, June."

June did so; no spoon. Daisy half raised herself up for a frightened
look towards her "cabinet."

"Has anybody done anything to my drawers while I have been away?"

"No, Miss Daisy, not as I know of."

"June, please look in them all--every one."

"'Taint here, Miss Daisy."

Daisy lay down again and lay thinking.

"June, is mamma in her room?"

"Yes, Miss Daisy."

"Ask her--tell her I want to speak to her very much."

Mrs. Randolph came.

"Mamma," said Daisy, "do you know anything about my Egyptian spoon?"

"Do you want it, Daisy?"

"O yes, mamma! I do. June cannot find it. Do you know where it is?"

"Yes--it is not a thing for a child like you, Daisy, and I let your aunt
Gary have it. She wanted it for her collection. I will get you anything
else you like in place of it."

"But mamma, I told aunt Gary she could not have it. She asked me, and I
told her she could not have it."

"I have told her she might, Daisy. Something else will give you more
pleasure. You are not an ungenerous child."

"But, mamma! it was _mine_. It belonged to me."

"Hush, Daisy; that is not a proper way to speak to me. I allow you to do
what you like with your things in general; this was much fitter for your
aunt Gary than for you. It was something beyond your appreciation. Do
not oblige me to remind you that your things are mine."

Mrs. Randolph spoke as if half displeased already, and left the room.
Daisy lay with a great flush upon her face, and in a state of
perturbation.

Her spoon was gone; that was beyond question, and Daisy's little spirit
was in tumultuous disturbance--very uncommon indeed with her. Grief, and
the sense of wrong, and the feeling of anger strove together. Did she
not appreciate her old spoon? when every leaf of the lotus carving and
every marking of the duck's bill h