ght of Molly's wearing a crown of gold in heaven. That crown of
gold was before Daisy's eyes; nothing else was worth a thought in
comparison.

"Are you going to see that wretched old being?" said Preston at last.

"Yes."

"Daisy--dear Daisy--I do not know what to do with you. Do you like, is
it possible that you can like, dirt and vulgarity?"

"I don't think I do," Daisy said gently; "but Preston, I like the poor
_people_."

"You do!" said Preston. "Then it is manifest that you cannot like me."
And he dashed spurs into his horse and sprung away, with a grace and
life that kept Daisy looking after him in admiration, and a plain mood
of displeasure which cast its shadow all over her spirit.

"Here is the trowel, Miss Daisy."

Her messenger had come back, and Daisy recalled to the business in hand
took up her reins again and drove on; but she felt deeply grieved. Now
and then her gauntleted hand even went up to her face to brush away a
tear that had gathered. It was not exactly a new thing, nor was Daisy
entirely surprised at the attempt to divert her from her purpose. She
was wise enough to guess that Preston's object had been more than the
pleasure of her company; and she knew that all at home, unless possibly
her father might be excepted, neither liked nor favoured her kindness to
Molly and would rejoice to interrupt the tokens of it. All were against
her; and Daisy's hand, went up again and again. "It is good I am weak
and not very well," she thought; "as soon as I grow strong mamma will
not let me do this any more. I must do all I can now."

So she came to the cripple's gate; and by that time the tears were all
gone.

Nobody was in the little courtyard; Daisy went in first to see how the
rose looked. It was all safe and doing well. While she stood there
before it, the cottage door opened and the poor inmate came out. She
crawled down the walk on hands and knees till she got near Daisy, and
then sat back to look at her.

"What do you want?" she said, in a most uninviting and ungracious tone
of voice.

"I came to see you," said Daisy, venturing to let her eyes rest for the
first time on those poor, restless, unloving eyes opposite her--"and I
wanted to see the rose, and I have brought you another flower--if you
will let me bring it in."

Her words were sweet as honey. The woman looked at her, and answered
again with the unintelligible grunt, of unbelieving wonder, which Daisy
had heard once before. Daisy