h. Oh, how glad I am, how
very glad I am!"

From that moment Flower became more or less a changed creature. She
developed all kinds of qualities which the Maybrights had never given
her credit for. She had a degree of tact which was quite astonishing in
a child of her age. There was never a jarring note in her melodious
voice. With her impatience gone, and her fiery, passionate temper
soothed, she was just the girl to be a charming companion to an invalid.

However restless the Doctor was, he grew quieter when Flower stole her
little hand into his; and when he was far too weak and ill and suffering
to bear any more reading aloud, he could listen to Flower as she recited
one wild ballad after another.

Flower had found her mission, and she was seldom now long away from the
Doctor's bedside.

"Don't be jealous, Polly," said Helen. "All this is saving Flower, and
doing father good."

"There is one comfort about it," said Polly, "that as Aunt Maria
perfectly detests poor Flower, or Daisy, as she calls her, she is not
likely to go into father's room."

"That is true!" said Helen. "She came to the room door the other day,
but Flower was repeating 'Hiawatha,' and acting it a little bit--you
know she can't help acting anything she tries to recite--and Aunt Maria
just threw up her hands and rolled her eyes, and went away."

"What a comfort!" said Polly. "Whatever happens, we must never allow the
dreadful old thing to come near father."

Alack! alas! something so bad had happened, so terrible a tragedy had
been enacted that even Flower and Hiawatha combined could no longer keep
Mrs. Cameron away from her brother-in-law's apartment.

On the second day after Scorpion's disappearance, the good woman called
Helen aside, and spoke some words which filled her with alarm.

"My dear!" she said, "I am very unhappy. The little dog, the little
sunbeam of my life, is lost. I am convinced, Helen! yes, I am convinced,
that there is foul play in the matter. You, every one of you, took a
most unwarrantable dislike to the poor, faithful little animal. Yes,
every one of you, with the exception of David, detested my Scorpion, and
I am quite certain that you all know where he now is."

"But really, Aunt Maria," said Helen, her fair face flushing, "really,
now, you don't seriously suppose that I had anything to say to
Scorpion's leaving you."

"I don't know, my dear. I exonerate David. Yes, David is a good boy; he
was attached to the d