"
"Rose-bush and all? Daisy, let Lewis get Loupe home, and you
come here and ride with me. Come! I want you."
Truly Daisy wanted nothing else. She left rose-bush and
watering pot, chaise and pony, to Lewis's management, and
gladly let the doctor take her up beside him. She liked to
drive with him; he had a fine horse and went fast; and there
were other reasons.
Now they drove off in fine style; fast, over the good roads;
whisked by Melbourne, sped away along south, catching glimpses
of the river from time to time, with the hills on the further
side hazily blue and indistinct with the September haze of
sunbeams. Near hand the green of plantations and woodland was
varied with brown grainfields, where grain had been, and with
ripening Indian corn and buckwheat; but more especially with
here and there a stately roof-tree or gable of some fine new
or old country house. The light was mellow, the air was good;
in the excitement of her drive Daisy half forgot her
perplexity and discomfiture. Till the doctor said, suddenly
looking round at her with a smile, "Now I should like to know
the history of that rose-bush."
"Oh, there is no history about it," said Daisy, quite taken by
surprise.
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