e of tenderness
flowing up in her heart, along with the doubt how her mission should be
executed or how it would be received; then she gave up her reins, took
the rose-tree in her hands, and softly opened the little wicket gate.
She went up the path and stood beside the cripple, who hearing the gate
shut had risen from her grubbing in the earth and sat back looking at
who was coming. Daisy went on without hesitation now. She had prayed out
all her prayer about it before setting out from home.

"I have brought you a rose-bush," she said simply. "Do you like roses?
this is very sweet. I thought maybe you would like a rose. Where would
you like to have it go?"

The answer was a very strange sort of questioning
grunt--inarticulate--nevertheless expressive of rude wonder and
incredulity, as far as it expressed anything. And Molly stared.

"Where shall I put this rose-tree?" said Daisy. "Where would it look
prettiest? May I put it here, by these balsams?"

No answer in words; but instead of a sign of assent, the cripple after
looking a moment longer at Daisy and the rose-tree, put her hand beyond
the balsams and grubbed up a tuft of what the country people call
"creepin' Charley;" and then sitting back as before, signified to Daisy
by a movement of her hand that the rose-bush might go in that place.
That was all Daisy wanted. She fell to work with her trowel, glad enough
to be permitted, and dug a hole, with great pains and some trouble; for
the soil was hard as soon as she got a little below the surface. But
with great diligence Daisy worked and scooped, till by repeated trials
she found she had the hole deep enough and large enough; and then she
tenderly set the roots of the rose-tree in the prepared place and shook
fine soil over them, as Logan had told her; pressing it down from time
to time, until the job was finished and the little tree stood securely
planted. A great feat accomplished. Daisy stayed not, but ran off to the
road for the watering pot, and bringing it with some difficulty to the
spot without soiling herself, she gave the rose-bush a thorough
watering; watered it till she was sure the refreshment had penetrated
down to the very roots. All the while the cripple sat back gazing at
her; gazing alternately at the rose-bush and the planting, and at the
white delicate frock the child wore and the daintily neat shoes and
stockings, and the handsome flat hat with its costly riband. I think
the view of these lat