the bride whom my mother selected for me. I was as much
startled as you will be, Daisy, when you hear who it was--Pluma
Hurlhurst, of Whitestone Hall."

"But you can not marry her now, Rex," whispered the little child-bride,
nestling closer in his embrace.

"No; nor I would not if I could. I love you the best, my pretty wild
flower. I would not exchange you, sweet, for all the world. I have
only told you this so you will see why it is necessary to keep our
marriage a secret--for the present, at least."

Daisy readily consented.

"You are very wise, Rex," she said. "I will do just as you tell me."

By this time they had reached Daisy's home.

"I will meet you to-morrow at the magnolia-tree, where first I found
my little wood-nymph, as I shall always call you. Then we can talk
matters over better. You will be sure to come while the dew sparkles
on your pretty namesakes?" he asked, eagerly.

Before she had time to answer the cottage door opened and Septima
appeared in the door-way. Rex was obliged to content himself with
snatching a hasty kiss from the rosy lips. The next moment he was
alone.

He walked slowly back through the tangled brushwood--not to
Whitestone Hall, but to an adjoining hostelry--feeling as though he
were in a new world. True, it _was_ hard to be separated from his
little child-bride. But Rex had a clever brain; he meant to think
of some plan out of the present difficulty. His face flushed and
paled as he thought of his new position; it seemed to him every
one must certainly read in his face he was a young husband.

Meanwhile Daisy flitted quickly up the broad gravel path to the little
cottage, wondering if it were a dream.

"Well!" said Septima, sharply, "this is a pretty time of night to come
dancing home, leaving me all alone with the baking! If I hadn't my
hands full of dough I'd give your ears a sound boxing! I'll see you're
never out after dark again, I'll warrant."

For a moment Daisy's blue eyes blazed, giving way to a roguish smile.

"I wonder what she would say if she knew I was Daisy Brooks no longer,
but Mrs. Rex Lyon?" she thought, untying the blue ribbons of her hat.
And she laughed outright as she thought how amazed Septima would look;
and the laugh sounded like the ripple of a mountain brook.

"Now, Aunt Seppy," coaxed Daisy, slipping up behind her and flinging
her plump little arms around the irate spinster's neck, "please don't
be cross. Indeed I was very particularly d