The face that looked down into Daisy's almost took her breath away for
a single instant, it was so like Rex's.

A bright, winning, childish face, framed in a mass of dark nut-brown
curls, and the brownest of large brown eyes.

"Certainly," said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable
thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat and
crutch, which was unfortunately broken by the fall.

A low cry burst from the child's lips.

"Oh, my crutch is broken!" she cried, in dismay. "What shall I do? I
can not walk back to the house. I am lame!"

"Let me see if I can help you," said Daisy, scaling the stone wall
with the grace of a fawn. "Put your arms around my neck," she said,
"and cling very tight. I will soon have you down from your high perch;
never mind the crutch. I can carry you up to the porch; it is not very
far, and you are not heavy."

In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely upon _terra
firma_.

"Thank you," said the child. "I know you are tired; we will rest a
moment, please, on this fallen log."

The touch of the little girl's hands, the glance of the soft brown
eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every word and glance
of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for her.

"I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have been to me,
and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; please tell me
yours."

"My name is Daisy Brooks," she answered.

Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had whispered
to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but that bright dream was
over now; she would never be aught else than--Daisy Brooks.

"Is your name really Daisy?" cried the little girl in a transport of
delight, scarcely catching the last name. "Why, that is the name my
brother loves best in the world. You have such a sweet face," said the
child, earnestly. "I would choose the name of some flower as just
suited to you. I should have thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet,
but I should never have thought of anything one half so pretty as
Daisy; it just suits you."

All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment
ever paid her. Daisy laughed--the only happy laugh that had passed her
lips since she had met Rex that morning under the magnolia-tree.

"Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?"

"Yes, you may tell me, if you like," Daisy answered, observing the
child delighted to talk of her brother.

"He has been