MOLLY'S GARDEN.
Daisy pondered over the doctor's counsel. It was friendly; but
she hardly thought well advised. He did not know her father
and mother so well as she did. Yet she went to find out Logan
that afternoon on her return from the drive, and saw the rose-
bush laid by the heels; with perhaps just a shadow of hope in
her heart that her friend the doctor might mean to put in a
plea for her somewhere. The hope faded when she got back to
the house, and the doctor was gone, and Mrs. Randolph's
handsome face looked its usual calm impassiveness. What use to
ask her such a thing as leave to go to the cripple's cottage?
No use at all, Daisy knew. The request alone would probably
move displeasure. Every look at her mother's face settled this
conviction more and more deeply in Daisy's mind; and she ended
by giving up the subject. There was no hope. She could do
nothing for any poor person, she was sure, under her mother's
permission, beyond carrying soup and jelly in her pony-chaise,
and maybe going in to give it. And that was not much; and
there were very few poor people around Melbourne that wanted
just that sort of attention.
So Daisy gave up her scheme. Nevertheless next morning it gave
her a twinge of heart to see her rose-bush laid by the heels,
exactly like her hopes.
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