each other. It almost seemed to
Daisy that long years had intervened, she had passed through so much
since then.

"Just a week to-day, madame," she made answer.

"Why, you are a bride, then," they all chorused. "Ah! that accounts
for your husband's great anxiety about you. We all agreed we had never
seen a husband more devoted!"

Daisy hid her face in the pillow. She thought she would go mad upon
being so cruelly misunderstood. Oh! if she had only dared throw
herself into their arms and sob out her heartaches on their bosoms.
Yes, she was a bride, but the most pitifully homesick, weary,
disheartened little girl-bride that ever the sun shone on in the wide,
wild world.

They assisted Daisy to arise, brushing out her long, tangled, golden
curls, declaring to one another the pretty little creature looked more
like a merry, rosy-cheeked school-girl than a little bride-wife, in
her pink-and-white dotted muslin, which they had in the meantime done
up for her with their own hands.

They wondered, too, why she never asked for her husband, and she
looked almost ready to faint when they spoke of him.

"There seems to be something of a mystery here," remarked one of
the sisters when the trio were alone. "If that child is a bride,
she is certainly not a happy one. I do not like to judge a
fellow-creature--Heaven forbid! but I am sorely afraid all is not
right with her. Twice this afternoon, entering the room quietly, I
have found her lying face downward on the sofa, crying as if her
heart would break! I am sorely puzzled!"

And the flame of suspicion once lighted was not easily extinguished in
the hearts of the curious spinsters.

"'Won't you tell me your sorrow, my dear?' I said.

"'No, no; I dare not!' she replied.

"'Will you not confide in me, Mrs. Stanwick?' I asked.

"She started up wildly, throwing her arms about my neck.

"'Won't you please call me Daisy?' she sobbed, piteously; 'just
Daisy--nothing else.'

"'Certainly, my dear, if you wish it,' I replied. 'There is one
question I would like to ask you, Daisy--you have told me your mother
is dead?'

"'Yes,' she said, leaning her golden head against the window, and
watching the white clouds overhead in the blue sky--'my poor, dear
mother is dead!'

"'Then will you answer me truthfully the question I am about to ask
you, Daisy, remembering your mother up in heaven hears you.'

"She raised her blue eyes to mine.

"'I shall answer truthfully any questio