Daisy came down to breakfast the next morning, looking so very bright and innocent and fresh, that perhaps Mr. Randolph thought his wife and sister were taking unnecessary trouble upon themselves. At least Mrs. Randolph so interpreted his manner, as she saw him put his arm round Daisy and bend down his head to hers. The gay visitors were still at Melbourne, but they had not come down yet to breakfast that morning.

"Did you go to see your old woman yesterday?" Mr. Randolph said.

"Yes, papa."

"Did you enjoy your visit?"

"Very much, papa."

Mrs. Randolph\'s head made a motion of impatience, which however those two did not see.

"How was that, Daisy? I do not comprehend in this instance the sources of pleasure."

"Papa"—said Daisy hesitating—"I think I gave pleasure."

She could not explain to him much more, but Mr. Randolph at least understood that. He gave Daisy another kiss, which was not disapproving, the child felt. So her breakfast was extremely happy.

She had a new plan in her head now about Molly. She wanted to get established on the footing of a friend in that poor little house; and she thought she had better perhaps not confine her line of advance to the garden. After breakfast she sought the housekeeper\'s room, and let Joanna know that she was in want of a nice little cake of some sort to carry to a poor creature who could make nor buy none. Daisy was a great favourite with Miss Underwood, especially ever since the night when she had been summoned in her night dress to tell the child about the words of the minister that day. Joanna never said "no" to Daisy if it was possible to say "yes;" nor considered anything a trouble that Daisy required. On this occasion, she promised that exactly what Daisy wanted should be in readiness by the afternoon; and having thus secured her arrangements Daisy went with a perfectly light heart to see what the morning was to bring forth.

"Daisy!" shouted Preston as she was going down the piazza steps,—"Daisy! where are you bound?"

"Out—" said Daisy, who was vaguely seeking the September sunshine.

"Well, \'out\' is as good as anywhere. Wait till I get my hat. Come,
Daisy!—we have business on hand."

"What business?" said Daisy, as she was led along through the trees.

"Great business," said Preston,—"only I shall want help, Daisy—I want a great deal of help. I cannot manage it alone. Wait till we get to a real good place for a talk.—Here, this will do. Now sit down."

"How pretty it is to-day!" said Daisy.

For indeed the river opposite them looked a bright sheet of glass; and the hills were blue in the morning light, and the sunshine everywhere was delightsome. The beautiful trees of Melbourne waved overhead; American elms hung their branches towards the ground; lindens stood in masses of luxuriance; oaks and chestnuts spotted the rolling ground with their round heads; and English elms stood up great towers of green. The September sun on all this and on the well kept greensward; no wonder Daisy said it was pretty. But Preston was too full of his business.

"Now, Daisy, we have got a great deal to do!"

"Have we?" said Daisy.

"It is this. Aunt Felicia has determined that she will give a party in two or three weeks."

"A party! But I never have anything to do with parties—mamma\'s parties—Preston."

"No. But with this one I think you have."

"How can I?" said Daisy. She was very pleasantly unconcerned as yet, and only enjoying the morning and Preston and the trees and the sunshine.

"Why, little Daisy, I have got to furnish part of the entertainment; and
I can\'t do it without you."

Daisy looked now.

"Aunt Felicia wants me to get up some tableaux."

"Some what?" said Daisy.

"Tableaux. Tableaux vivants. Pictures, Daisy; made with living people."

"What do you mean, Preston?"

"Why we will choose some pictures, some of the prettiest pictures we can find; and then we will dress up people to represent all the figures, and place them just as the figures are grouped in the engraving; and then they look like a most beautiful large painted picture."

"But pictures do not move?"

"No more do the people. They hold still and do not stir, any more than if they were not real."

"I should think they would look like people though, and not like a picture," said Daisy. "No matter how still you were to keep, I should never fancy you were painted."

"No," said Preston laughing; "but you do not understand. The room where the spectators are is darkened, and the lights for the picture are all set on one side, just as the light comes in the picture; and then it all looks just right. And the picture is seen behind a frame too, of the folding doors or something."

Daisy sat looking at Preston, a little curious but not at all excited.

"So I shall want your help, Daisy."

"About what?"

"First, to choose what pictures we will have. We must look over all the books of engravings in the house, and see what would do. Shall we go at it?"

Daisy consented. They repaired to the library and took position by a large portfolio of engravings.

"\'Fortitude\'! Capital!" cried Preston as he turned over the first sheet in the portfolio. "Capital, Daisy! That\'s for you. You would make an excellent \'Fortitude.\'"

"I!—" said Daisy.

"Capital—couldn\'t be better. This is Sir Joshua Reynolds\' \'Fortitude\'—and you will do for it wonderfully well. You have half the look of it now. Only you must be a little more stern."

"Why must Fortitude look stern?" said Daisy.

"O, because she has hard work to do, I suppose."

"What is Fortitude, Preston?"

"O Daisy, Daisy! are you going through life like that? Why you\'ll turn all your play into work."

"Why?—But what is it?"

"Fortitude? Why it is, let me see,—it is the power of endurance."

"The power of bearing pain, Daisy," said Mr. Randolph, who was walking through the room.

"I do not think Fortitude ought to look stern."

"The old gentleman thought so. I suppose he knew. You must, anyhow,—like the picture."

"But Preston, how could I look like that? My dresses are not made so."

"I hope not!" said Preston laughing. "But Daisy, we\'ll get some of aunt
Felicia\'s riggings and feathers and set you out in style."

"But you can\'t put feathers on my head like those," said Daisy. "They wouldn\'t stay on. And I don\'t see why Fortitude should be dressed in feathers."

"Why it is the crest of her helmet, Daisy! Fortitude must have something strong about her, somewhere, and I suppose her head is as good a place as any. We\'ll make a helmet for you. And I will make Dolce lie down at your feet for the lion."

"You couldn\'t, Preston."

"I could make him do anything." Dolce was Preston\'s dog; a great shaggy
St. Bernard.

"Well!—" said Daisy with a half sigh.

"I think you\'ll make a beautiful Fortitude. Now let us see what next.
That is for one."

"How many pictures do you want?" said Daisy.

"O a good many. Plenty, or it wouldn\'t be worth taking all the trouble, and shutting the people up in a dark room. \'Alfred in the neat-herd\'s cottage\'—getting a scolding for his burnt cakes. How splendid that would be if we could get Dr. Sandford to be Alfred!"

"Who would be that scolding old woman?"

"No matter, because we can\'t get Dr. Sandford. We are not to have grown folks at all. It is a pity Ransom is not here. We shall have to get Alexander Fish—or Hamilton! Hamilton will do. He\'s a good looking fellow."

"You would do a great deal better," said Daisy. "And Alexander would not do at all. He has not a bit the look of a king about him."

"I must be that old man with the bundle of sticks on his head," said
Preston, who was however immensely flattered.

"But his beard?" said Daisy.

"O I\'ll put that on. A false beard is easy. You won\'t know me, Daisy. That will be an excellent picture. See that girl blowing the burnt cakes and making her face into a full moon!"

"Will you have her in the picture?"

"Certainly! Most assuredly."

"But, who will you get to do that, Preston?"

"Nora Dinwiddie, I reckon."

"Will she come?"

"We shall want all we can get. All Mrs. Stanfield\'s young ones, and Mrs. Fish\'s and Linwood\'s and everybody. Now Daisy, here you are! This is the very thing."

"For what?" said Daisy.

"Don\'t you see? For you. This is Queen Esther before Ahasuerus—you know the story?"

"O yes!—when he stretched out the golden sceptre to her. She is fainting, isn\'t she?"

"Exactly. You can do that glorious, because you have always a pair of pale cheeks on hand."

"I?"—said Daisy again. "Do you want me to be two things?"

"A dozen things, perhaps. You must be Queen Esther at any rate. Nobody but you."

"And who will be Ahasuerus?"

"I don\'t know. Hamilton Rush, I reckon; he\'s a nice fellow."

"O Preston, why don\'t you be Ahasuerus?"

"I am manager, you know, Daisy; it won\'t do for the manager to take the best pieces for himself. Ahasuerus is one of the best. See how handsome the dress is—and the attitude, and everything."

"I don\'t see where you will find the dresses," said Daisy. "All those are robes of silk and velvet and fur; and then the jewels, Preston!"

"Nonsense, Daisy. Aunt Felicia will let us take all her stores of satins and velvets and feathers and jewellery too. It won\'t hurt them to be looked at."

"I think," said Daisy slowly,—"I think I will not be Queen Esther."

"Why not? don\'t you like her looks?"

"O yes. That\'s no matter; but I would rather somebody else would be it."

"Why, little Daisy? You are the one; nobody can be Esther but you."

"I think I will not," said Daisy thoughtfully.

"What\'s the matter, Daisy? You must. I want you for Esther and nobody else. What is the objection?"

"I would rather not," said Daisy. "I don\'t know Hamilton Rush much."

This was said with extreme demureness, and Preston bit his lips almost till the blood came to prevent the smile which would have startled Daisy.

"You won\'t know him at all when he is dressed and with his crown on. It\'s all a play. You can imagine he is the real old Persian king, who looked so fiercely on the beautiful Jewess when she ventured unsummoned into his presence."

"I could not stand like that," said Daisy.

"Yes, you could. That\'s easy. You are fainting in the arms of your attendants."

"Who will the attendants be?"

"I don\'t know. Who do you think?"

"I think I would rather not be in this picture,—" said Daisy.

"Yes, you will. I want you. It is too good to be given to somebody else.
It is one of the prettiest pictures we shall have, I reckon."

"Then you must be the king."

"Well—we will see," said Preston. "What comes next? \'Canute and his courtiers.\' That won\'t do, because we could not have the sea in."

"Nor the horse," said Daisy.

"Not very well.—What a stupid collection of portraits! Nothing but portraits."—

"There are fortune tellers."

"That won\'t do—not interest enough. There! here\'s one. \'Little Red
Riding-hood.\' That will be beautiful for you, Daisy."

"But Preston, I mustn\'t be everything."

"Plenty more things coming. You don\'t like Red Riding-hood? Then we will give it to Nora or Ella."

"O like it," said Daisy. "I like it much better than Esther—unless you will play Ahasuerus."

"Well I will put you down for both of \'em."

"But who\'s to be anything else?"

"Lots. Here.—Splendid! \'Marie Antoinette\' going from the revolutionary tribunal—that will be capital."

"Who will take that?" said Daisy.

"Let me see. I think—I think, Daisy, it must be Theresa Stanfield. She is a clever girl, and it must be a clever girl to do this."

"But she will not look as old as she ought."

"Yes she will, when she is dressed. I know who will be our dresser, too;
Mrs. Sandford."

"Will she?" said Daisy.

"Yes. She knows how, I know. You and I must go and give invitations,
Daisy."

"Mamma will send the invitations."

"Yes, of course, to the party; but we have got to beat up recruits and get contributions for the tableaux. You and I must do that. I engaged to take all the trouble of the thing from aunt Felicia."

"Contributions, Preston?"

"Of people, Daisy. People for the tableaux. We must have all we can muster."

"I can\'t see how you will make Theresa Stanfield look like that."

"I cannot," said Preston laughing,—"but Mrs. Sandford will do part and Theresa herself will do the other part. She will bring her face round, you will see. The thing is, who will be that ugly old woman who is looking at the queen with such eyes of coarse fury—I think I shall have to be that old woman."

"You, Preston!" And Daisy went off into a fit of amusement. "Can you make your eyes look with coarse fury?"............