"But suppose, Mr. Dinwiddie—"

"Yes. What?"

"Suppose I can't. I don't know how."

"Do you want to do it?"

"Yes, sir. Indeed I do."

"Very well; the Lord knows just what your difficulty is; you must apply to him."

"Apply to him?" said Daisy.

"Ask him."

"How, sir?"

"Pray to him. Tell the Lord your trouble, and ask him to make it all right for you. Did you never pray to him?"

"No, sir—not ever."

"My lamb," said Mr. Dinwiddie, "he will hear you, if you never prayed to him before. I will shew you the word of his promise." And he opened a pocket-Bible and found the place of these words which he gave Daisy to read. "'I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh; that they may walk in my statutes, and keep mine ordinances, and do them: and they shall be my people, and I will be their God.' Now is that what you want, Daisy?"

"Yes, sir; only I don't know how."

"Never mind; the Lord knows. He will make it all right, if only you are willing to give yourself to be his little servant."

"I will give him all I have got, sir," said Daisy, looking up.

"Very well; then I will shew you one thing more—it is a word of the Lord Jesus. See—'If ye love me, keep my commandments.' Now I want you to keep those two words, and you can't remember where to find them again—I must let you take this book with you." And Mr. Dinwiddie folded down leaves in the two places.

"But Mr. Dinwiddie,"—said Daisy softly—"I don't know when I can get it back to you again, sir."

"Never mind—keep it, and when you don't want it, give it to some poor person that does. And remember, little one, that the good Lord expects his servants to tell him their troubles and to pray to him every day."

"Thank you, sir!" was Daisy's deep ejaculation.

"Don't thank me. Now will your pony get you home before dark?"

"O yes, Mr. Dinwiddie! Loupe is lazy, but he can go, and I will make him."

The chaise went off at a swift rate accordingly, after another soft grateful look from its little driver. Mr. Dinwiddie stood looking after it. Of a certain woman, of Thyatira it is written that "the Lord opened her heart, that she attended to the things which were spoken." Surely, the gentleman thought, the same had been true of his late little charge. He went thoughtfully home. While Daisy, not speculating at all, in her simplicity sat thinking that she was the Lord's servant; and rejoiced over and over again that she had for her own and might keep the book of her Lord's commandments. There were such things as Bibles in the house, certainly, but Daisy had never had one of her own. That in which she had read the other night and which she had used to study her lessons for Mr. Dinwiddie, was one belonging to her brother, which he was obliged to use at school. Doubtless Daisy could also have had one for the asking; she knew that; but it might have been some time first; and she had a certain doubt in her little mind that the less she said upon the subject the better. She resolved her treasure should be a secret one. It was right for her to have a Bible; she would not run the risk of disagreeable comments or commands by in any way putting it forward. Meanwhile she had become the Lord's servant! A very poor little beginning of a servant she thought herself; nevertheless in telling Mr. Dinwiddie what she had, it seemed to Daisy that she had spoken aloud her oath of allegiance; and a growing joy in the transaction and a growing love to the great Saviour who was willing to let her be his servant, filled her little heart. She just knew that the ride home was lovely, but Daisy's mind was travelling a yet more sunshiny road. She was intelligent in what she had done. One by one Mr. Dinwiddie's lessons had fallen on a willing and open ear. She knew herself to be a sinner and lost; she believed that the Lord Jesus would save her by his death; and it seemed to her the most natural and reasonable and pleasant thing in the world, that the life for which his blood had been shed, should be given to him. "If ye love me, keep my commandments." "I wonder," thought Daisy, "what they are."

CHAPTER III.

"What sort of an expedition did you have, Daisy?" her father asked at breakfast next morning. Company the evening before had prevented any talk about it.

"O very good, papa! It was as good as a fairy tale."

"Was it?" said Mr. Randolph. "I wonder what pitch of excellence that is.
I don't remember ever finding a fairy tale very good to me."

"Did you ever read any, papa?"

"I don't know! Were you not tired with your long drive?"

"O no, papa!"

"Would you like to go again?"

"Yes papa, very much."

"You may go as often as you like—only always let Sam be along."

"Did you find out what Mrs. Parsons wants?" said Mrs. Randolph.

"No, mamma—she did not look as if she wanted anything, except to see me. And yet she is very poor, mamma."

At this speech Mr. Randolph burst into a round laugh, and even Mrs.
Randolph seemed amused.

"Did she look as if she wanted to see you, Daisy?"

"Papa, I think she did," said Daisy colouring; "she said so at any rate; but I could not find out what else she would like."

"Daisy, I think she shewed very good taste," said Mr. Randolph, drawing his little daughter into his arms; "but it would be safe to take something else with you when you go."

"Your birthday is next week, Daisy," said her mother; "and your aunt Gary and your cousins will be here. What would you like to have, to celebrate the day?"

"I don't know, mamma," said Daisy, returning her father's kisses.

"You may have what you please, if you will think and tell me."

"Mamma, may I talk to Nora Dinwiddie about it?"

"Nonsense! What for?"

"Only to consult, mamma."

"Consult Ransom. He would be a much better help to you."

Daisy looked sober and said nothing.

"Why not?" said Mr. Randolph. "Why not consult your brother?"

"Papa," said Daisy slowly, "Ransom and I do not understand each other."

"Don't you," said her father laughing; "what is the cause of that,
Daisy?"

Daisy was not very willing to answer, but being pressed by both father and mother she at length spoke. "I think, papa, it is because he understands so many other things."

Mr. Randolph was excessively amused. "Ransom!"—he called out to the hall.

"Please, papa, don't!" said Daisy.

"Ransom!—come here.—What is this? your sister says you do not understand her."

"Well, papa," said Ransom, an exceedingly handsome and bright-looking boy and a great pet of his mother,—"there are things that are not deep enough to be understood."

Daisy's lips opened eagerly and then closed again.

"Girls always use magnifying glasses where themselves are concerned!" went on Ransom, whose dignity seemed to be excited.

"Hush, hush!" said his father,—"take yourself off, if you cannot maintain civility. And your mother does not like fishing-tackle at the