Daisy's Work. The Third Commandment

"Oh, yes. I have often noticed it in people of Betty's class," answered the General; "but what has that to do with Daisy's friends?"

"Is it not possible that their name is Proudfoot or Proudfit, and that 'Saacyfut' is Betty's way of calling it?"

The General laughed heartily.

"Hardly, I think," he said; "and yet – I do not know. It may be. But it never struck me. It took a woman's wit to think of that."

"We will ask Daisy when she comes," said Mrs. Forster. "If Proudfoot was their name, she must remember it when she hears it spoken, I think. She can hardly have forgotten it so entirely that she would not recognize it. And then, if it should be so, it will be a help to find her friends." Mrs. Forster spoke the last words more slowly.

"Yes," said her husband, giving words to the thought which had made her half unwilling to utter them; "and if found, we must give up our Daisy."

"But we must not seek them the less for that," she said, "or I shall feel as if we had found some lovely jewel that we were striving to hide from the rightful owner. I know what terrible longings must fill her mother's heart;" and a tear dropped from Mrs. Forster's eye on her baby's face, as she clasped it more tenderly than ever in her arms.

"Daisy," said the General that evening, as the little girl stood by his knee, "did you ever hear the name of Proudfoot?"

Daisy started, drew a quick, gasping breath, and suddenly threw herself into his arms.

"That is it!" she cried, in a rapid, excited manner, "that is it! That is my name, that is what they called papa and mamma. I never heard it since; but I know it now. I am Daisy Proudfoot, I am, I am!"

It was some time before the child's excitement could be calmed; but there was no farther knowledge to be gained from her. Proudfoot was her name, of that she was quite sure; and the recollection of it at this late hour seemed to fill her with a kind of tremulous happiness; but still she could not tell where she belonged.

Betty too, when she was asked if Proudfoot was the name of Daisy's mother, answered, —

"Sure, an' it was, ma'am. Didn't I say so all along, only she was always gainsayin' it?"[1 - If this is considered far-fetched, the writer can only say that Betty's rendering of the name of Proudfoot was actually given by a domestic in her own family, and occasioned considerable bewilderment, till the quick wit of one of its members solved the riddle.]

The matter was settled; and General Forster, loath as he was to part with Daisy, feeling that he must leave no stone unturned to trace her friends, again put advertisements in the papers, saying, that if any family of the name of Proudfoot had had a child supposed to be lost at sea, they might hear of her at such and such a place.

Daisy was not told of this; she was contented and happy in her new home and among her new friends, and it was not thought best to disturb her mind with fresh hopes of finding those who might never come to claim her.

But although she was still called Daisy Forster by all in Glenwood, it was a satisfaction to herself and to the kind friends who had taken her up and cared for her, to know the name which rightly belonged to her.

However, days and weeks and months went by, and still no one came to seek the Daisy blossom which had been transplanted to such pleasant soil. And there it grew and flourished, and did its Master's work; proving how much even such a simple floweret can do by its own modest example and teaching to win others to honor Him.

It was surprising to see how much her schoolmates thought of her opinion; how they profited by the simple lesson she had taught them, and tried to break themselves of the foolish and sinful habit into which nearly all of them had fallen, of using sacred names and things in such a heedless, unthinking manner.

It was not only the very little girls, but the older ones also, and even Miss Collins herself, who learned from our Daisy to set a watch upon their lips, and to remember whose ear was ever present, hearing each thoughtless word which dishonored Him or that which especially belonged to Him.

Perhaps they gave more heed to Daisy's words than they would have done to those of any other one of their number. There was such a half-mystery about her, and their thoughts were so tender towards her, that they checked their heedless speech for her sake at first; then, as they learned to think more about it, for a better and higher reason, till at last the bad habit was broken up; and if, by chance, such a word as "mercy," "heavens," "good Lord," or the like, came from the lips of any child, the surprised and reproving looks of her companions told her of her fault, and punished her sufficiently.

And the good influence spread far and wide. Since the little ones were so careful, their parents and older friends felt that they, too, must take heed lest they offended in this way; and so it came to pass that among the families of Glenwood God's name and word came to be held in such true reverence and honor as had never been before.

And so nearly a year passed by, and brought the Daisy and her sister-flowerets to another spring.

IX.

THE LOST FOUND

"IS that you, Daisy?"

"Yes, sir. Is that you, Uncle Frank?" answered Daisy, playfully.

"Well, I thought it was this morning when I went to town; but I am doubtful of it now."

"Why?" asked Daisy, laughing, as she reached up on tiptoe to offer the kiss with which she always welcomed her uncle on his return from the city.

"Baby Daisy is not doubtful, at least," said Mrs. Forster, coming forward, and putting her little daughter, all crows and smiles, in her father's arms. "Let her pull your hair a little to convince you of the fact."

"It will be difficult," said the General. "There was a man in the cars so like me, face, height, and figure, that some of my friends were taking him for me; others accusing me of having a brother whom I have never owned. He sat two or three seats in front of me, and I could not help being amused. Ward came in, nodded familiarly to my double, with, "How are you, General?" passed on to me, stopped, and looked from one to the other with a mixture of surprise and curiosity that was droll; then asked for information which I could not give him. It was the same with many others. I hope the stranger will keep himself out of mischief while he is in Glenwood, or I may be held responsible for his wrong doings."

"Did he come to Glenwood?" asked Daisy.

"Yes: I left him standing on the platform at the station, and I hardly knew whether my own carriage belonged to him or to me. However, he made no claim as I stepped into it."

"Who was he?" asked Mrs. Forster. "Did not you find out?"

"No. No one could tell me, and I could not go and ask the man who he was, merely for the reason that he resembled me so much. There, there, little woman," as the baby gave a vigorous pull at his hair. "I've had enough of mamma's proofs, and am satisfied that no other man than Frank Forster would submit to such usage at these tiny hands. I rather imagine this stranger came up to look at Beechgrove, which is to let, as I heard him asking the railway porter in which direction it lay, and where the agent was to be found."

A fortnight went by, and nothing more was seen of the stranger who looked so like General Forster; nor after that evening did the General or his wife think of him.

Not so Daisy. She thought often of him with a kind of half wish that she might see him; why she scarcely knew herself, but she never spoke of it. She was rather a shy, quiet child, keeping her ideas and wishes pretty much to herself, unless they were drawn out by some one whom she loved or trusted; and neither the General nor Mrs. Forster suspected what was working in her mind.

Her idea, too, that the General looked so like her own papa, they regarded only as a childish fancy, ready to see a likeness between the two she most admired and loved in all the world. And they never imagined how the child was dreaming and wondering over this unseen stranger who had had such a passing interest for them.

Meanwhile, it became certain that Beechgrove, as the place was called, was taken; for the placards advertising it to rent were taken down, and the house was going through a thorough cleaning.

But the General and his wife, being people who never gossiped or concerned themselves about their neighbors' affairs, did not trouble themselves in the matter. And those who were curious and asked questions received no satisfaction from old Dr. Harding, who had charge of the property.

All Miss Collins' young scholars, however, thought themselves very much concerned in the letting of Beechgrove, and with good reason. For a large aviary belonged to the place, containing many rare and beautiful birds, and the former owner, who was fond of children, often used to invite the young people of Glenwood to see these birds, and to amuse themselves in other ways about his grounds. But since Dr. Harding had had the care of the place, not a child had been suffered to come within sight or hearing of the aviary, which had a new charm for them since it was a forbidden pleasure.

So the new occupants of Beechgrove, and the question as to whether they were likely to recover their old privileges there or no, had been a subject of great interest to our young friends, and they were very anxious for information on the matter.

One morning when Daisy came to school, she found the rest of the class grouped about Mattie Prime and Rosie Pierson, who lived beyond Beechgrove, and had to pass it on their way to Miss Collins'.

"The new people have gone to Beechgrove," said Violet Swan, when Daisy asked what they were talking about; "and Mattie and Rosie saw a little girl there this morning. We are glad there is a child there, because maybe having her will make the papa good to other children, and he will let us go in and see the birds because of her."

"She's a very little thing," said Rosie. "She can't speak plain. Such a crooked tongue."

"But she's very cunning," said Mattie. "We were going past the gate and she called out to us, 'Itty dirls, itty dirls;' and when we stopped she put her face through the rails to kiss us, and handed us some flowers she had. She was real sweet."

"What is her name?" asked Daisy.

"We asked her, but we could not make out what she said. Mamy Modwit it sounded like; but she did speak so crooked," said Mattie.

"Do you know," said Rosie, "I think she looked like Daisy. Don't you, Mattie?"

"Why, so she does," said Mattie. "Isn't that funny? Only Daisy's eyes always look sorry except when she is laughing or speaking, and that little girl's were so full of mischief and laughing."

"How big was she?" asked Lola.