al phlox, behind which was an orange grove in full bearing. In
the well-cultivated grounds there were many inviting drives through
avenues of trees.

"What are we going in here for?" asked Beth.

"Do you think it a pretty place?" returned Mr. Davenport.

"I never saw a prettier place. It's grand."

"Guess who owns it."

"How should I know? I don't know any people in Florida."

"You know the Davenports. They are to live here. I bought the place
this morning."

Beth could hardly believe her father. He had, indeed, greatly
surprised her. That she was to be a little Florida lady henceforth,
hardly seemed possible. She thought she must be a fairy-story
princess, and that the fairies were vying with one another in showering
upon her the good things of life.

"I'm so happy, I don't know what to say or do. Why, if a good fairy
offered to grant me three wishes, I shouldn't know what to ask. I have
everything," declared Beth.

"There aren't any fairies, and you know it. So what's the use of
talking about them," interrupted practical Marian.

"Mamma says our thoughts are the real fairies," returned Beth, nothing
daunted, and added, "papa has given me plenty of good ones to-day."

"I was in great luck to secure this place," said Mr. Davenport. "It
had just been put on the market as Mr. Marlowe, the former owner, was
called North by the death of his wife. The agent brought me out this
morning, and I was so delighted with it that I would look no farther.
I found the title all right, and so I signed the papers at once."

CHAPTER II

The New Home

The house on the place just described was a rambling two-storied
building with many porches--a typical vine-covered Southern cottage.
It was picturesque from every side, and seemed to have no prosaic back.
Marechal Niel roses, and honeysuckles, and some tropical vines, climbed
over latticework almost to the roof. There were, also, many trees near
the house, some of which were rare.

[Illustration: Beth's new home. (Illustration missing from book)]

A colored woman bustled out of a side door, and looked down the road
leading to the gate through which the Davenports' carriage had entered.
Evidently, she was no common negro, but had served "quality" all her
life--a typical old-time mammy. A red bandanna was drawn tightly over
her short curly wool. Her dress was of flowered calico, and around her
neck was a brilliant-hued shawl. A neat gingham apron cov