given her by an old aunt. At home it was considered a very rare and
beautiful thing, and Daisy had been rather proud of her rococo chain
till she saw Laura's collection of trinkets, the variety and brilliancy
of which dazzled her eyes, and woke a burning desire to possess
treasures of the same sort. It was some consolation to find that the
most striking were not very expensive, and after poring over them with
deep interest, Daisy privately resolved to buy as many as her five
dollars would compass. These new ornaments could be worn during her
visit, and serve as gifts when she went home; so the extravagance would
not be so great as it seemed.
This purpose comforted her, as she put on the old necklace, which looked
very dingy beside the Rhinestones that flashed, the silver bangles that
clashed, and the gilded butterflies, spiders, arrows, flowers, and
daggers that shone on the young girls whom she met that evening. Their
fine dresses she could not hope to imitate, but a pin and a pair of
bracelets were possible, and she resolved to have them, if she had to
borrow money to get home with.
Her head was quite turned by this desire for the cheap trinkets which
attract all feminine eyes now-a-days, and when, among the pretty things
that came to her from the Christmas tree that night, she received a blue
plush jewel-box, she felt that it was almost a duty to fill it as soon
as possible.
"Isn't it a beauty? I never had one, and it is just what I wanted," said
Daisy, delightedly lifting the tray full of satin beds for pretty
things, and pulling out the little drawer underneath, where the giver's
card lay.
"I told papa a work-box or a fan would be better; but he liked this and
would buy it," explained Laura, who knew how useless it was to her
friend.
"It was very kind of him, and I prefer it to either of those. I've
nothing but my old chain and a shabby little pin to put in it now, but
I'll fill it in time," answered Daisy, whose eyes seemed to behold the
unbought treasures already reposing on the dainty cushion.
"Real jewels are the best, my dear, for their worth and beauty are never
lost. The tinsel girls wear now is poor stuff, and money is thrown away
in buying it," said Mrs. Vaughn, who overheard them and guessed the
temptation which beset the little country girl.
Daisy looked conscious, but answered, with a smile, and a hand on her
necklace, "This old thing wouldn't look well in my pretty box, so I'll
leave it empty till I can afford something better."
"But that antique chain is worth many mock diamonds; for it is genuine,
and its age adds to its value. Lovers of such things would pay a good
price for that and keep it carefully. So don't be ashamed of it, my
dear,--though this pretty throat needs no ornament," added Mrs. Vaughn,
hoping the girl would not forget the little lesson she was trying to
give her.
Daisy did not, but when she went to bed, set the jewel-box on the table
where it would meet her eyes the first thing in the morning, and then
fell asleep trying to decide that she would buy no baubles, since there
were better things to spend her money on.
Nothing more was said; but as the two girls went about the gay street on
various pleasant errands, Daisy never could pass the jewellers' windows
without stopping to gloat over the trays full of enchanting ornaments.
More than once, when alone, she went in to inquire the prices of these
much coveted trifles, and their cheapness made the temptation harder to
resist. Certain things had a sort of fascination for her, and seemed to
haunt her in an uncanny way, giving her no peace till she would decide
to buy them. A golden rose with a diamond drop of dew on its leaves got
into her very dreams; an enamelled butterfly flew before her as she
walked, and a pair of silver bangles rattled in her ear like goblin
castanets.
"I shall not be safe till I spend that money, so I might as well decide
on something and be at peace," said poor Daisy, after some days of this
girlish struggle; "I needn't buy anything for mother and Janey, for I
can share my nice and useful presents with them; but I should like to be
able to show the girls my lovely jewel-box with something pretty in it,
and I will! Laura needn't know anything about it, for I'm sure she'd
think it silly, and so would her mother. I'll slip in now and buy that
rose; it's only three dollars, and the other two will get one
porte-bonheur, or the dear butterfly."
Making her way through the crowd that always stood before the brilliant
window, Daisy went in and demanded the rose; then, rather scared by this
reckless act she paused, and decided to look farther before buying
anything else. With a pleasant little flutter of the heart as the pretty
trinket was done up, she put her hand into her pocket to pay for it, and
all the color died out of her cheeks when she found no purse there. In
vain she pulled out handkerchief, keys, and pincushion; no sign of money
was found but a ten-cent piece which had fallen out at some time. She
looked so pale and dismayed that the shopman guessed her misfortune
before she told it, but all the comfort he offered was the useless
information that the crowded corner was a great place for pick-pockets.
There was nothing to be done but to return the rose and go sadly home,
feeling that fate was very cruel to snatch away this long-coveted
happiness when so nearly won. Like the milk-maid who upset her pail
while planning which ribbons would become her best, poor Daisy's dreams
of splendor came to a sudden end; for instead of a golden rose, she was
left with only ten cents,--and not even a purse to put it in.
She went home angry, disappointed, and ashamed, but too proud to
complain, though not able to keep the loss to herself; for it was a sad
affair, and her face betrayed her in spite of her efforts to be gay.
"I know you were staring at the French diamonds in that corner store. I
never can get you by there without a regular tug," cried Laura, when the
tale was very briefly told.
"I can't help it; I'm perfectly fascinated by those foolish things, and
I know I should have bought some; so it is well that I've lost my money,
perhaps," answered Daisy, looking so innocently penitent and so frankly
disappointed that Mr. Vaughn said kindly:--
"So it is, for now I have a chance to complete my Christmas present. I
was not sure it would suit so I gave it empty. Please use this in buying
some of the 'fascinating things' you like so well."
A bright ten-dollar gold piece was slipped into Daisy's hand, and she
was obliged to keep it, in spite of all her protestations that she could
live without trinkets, and did not need it as her ticket home was
already bought. Mrs. Vaughn added a nice little purse, and Laura
advised her to keep the lone ten-cent piece for a good-luck penny.
"Now I can do it with a free mind, and fill my box as Mr. Vaughn wishes
me to. Won't it be fun?" thought Daisy, as she skipped up-stairs after
dinner, with a load of care lifted from her spirits.
Laura was taking a music lesson, so her guest went to the sewing-room to
mend the facing of her dress, which some one had stepped on while she
stood in that fatal crowd. A seamstress was there, sewing as if for a
wager, and while Daisy stitched her braid she wondered if there was any
need of such haste; for the young woman's fingers flew, a feverish color
was in her cheeks, and now and then she sighed as if tired or worried.
"Let me help, if you are in a hurry, Miss White. I can sew fast, and
know something of dressmaking. Please let me. I'd love to do anything
for Mrs. Vaughn, she is so kind to me," said Daisy, when her small job
was done, lingering to make the offer, though an interesting book was
waiting in her room.
"Thank you, I guess I can get through by dark. I do want to finish, for
my mother is sick, and needs me as well as the money," answered the
needle-woman, pausing to give the girl a grateful smile, then stitching
away faster than ever.
"Then I must help. Give me that sleeve to sew up, and rest a little. You
look dreadfully tired, and you've been working all day," insisted Daisy.
"That's real kind, and it would be a great help, if you really like it,"
answered Miss White, with a sigh of relief as she handed over the
sleeve, and saw how heartily and helpfully Daisy fell to work.
Of course they talked, for the friendly act opened both hearts, and did
both girls good. As the younger listened to the little story of love and
labor, the gold piece burned in her pocket, and tinsel trinkets looked
very poor beside the sacrifices so sweetly made by this good daughter
for the feeble mother whose comfort and support she was.
"Our landlord has raised the rent, but I can't move now, for the cold
and the worry would kill ma; so I'm tugging away to pay the extra money,
else he will turn us out, I'm afraid."
"Why don't you tell Mrs. Vaughn? She helps every one, and loves to do
it."
"So she does, bless her! She has done a deal for us, and that's why I
can't ask for more. I won't beg while I can work, but worry wears on me,
and if I break down what _will_ become of mother?"
Poor Mary shook the tears out of her eyes, for daylight was going, and
she had no time to cry; but Daisy stopped to wonder how it would seem to
be in her place, "tugging away" day after day to keep a roof over
mother. It made her heart ache to think of it, and sent her hand to her
pocket with a joyful sense of power; for alms-giving was a new pleasure,
and Daisy felt very rich.
"I've had a present to-day, and I'd love dearly to share it with you if
you wouldn't mind. I shall only waste it, so do let me send it to your
mother in any shape you like," she said in a timid, but very earnest
way.
"Oh, Miss Field! I couldn't do it! you are too kind; I never thought of
hinting"--began Mary, quite overcome by this unexpected proposal.
Daisy settled the matter by running away to the study, where Mr. Vaughn
was napping, to ask him if he would give her two fives for the gold
piece.
"Ah! the fascination is at work, I see; and we can't wait till Monday to
buy the pretty things. Girls will be girls, and must sow their innocent
wild oats I suppose. Here, my dear, beware of pick-pockets, and good
luck to the shopping," said the old gentleman, as he put two crisp bills
into her hands, with a laugh.
"Pick-pockets wont get this, and I _know_ my shopping will prosper now,"
answered Daisy, in such a happy tone that Mr. Vaughn wondered what plan
was in the girl's head to make her look so sweet and glad.
She went slowly up-stairs looking at the two bills, which did not seem
half so precious as when in the shape of gold.
"I wonder if it would be very extravagant to give her all of it. I shall
do some silly thing if I keep it. Her boots were very thin, and she
coughs, and if she is sick it will be dreadful. Suppose I give her five
for herself, and five for her mother. I'd love to feel rich and generous
for once in my life, and give real help."
The house was very still, and Daisy paused at the head of the stairs to
settle the point, little dreaming that Mrs. Vaughn had heard the talk in
the sewing-room, and saw her as she stood thoughtfully staring at the
two bits of paper in her hand.
"I shouldn't feel ashamed if Mrs. Vaughn found me out in this, but I
should never dare to let her see my bangles and pins, if I got them. I
know she thinks them silly, especially so for me. She said she hoped I'd
set a good example to Laura, in the way of simplicity and industry. I
liked that, and so will mother. But then, my jewel-box! All empty, and
such a pretty thing. Oh dear, I wish I could be wise and silly at the
same time."
Daisy sighed, and took a few more steps, then smiled, pulled out her
purse, and taking the ten-cent piece tossed it up, saying, "Heads, Mary;
tails, myself."
Up flew the bright little coin, and down it came with the goddess of
liberty uppermost.
"That settles it; she shall have the ten, and I'll be content with the
old chain for all my jewelry," said Daisy aloud; and looking much
relieved she skipped away, leaving the unsuspected observer to smile at
her girlish mode of deciding the question, and to rejoice over the
generous nature unspoiled as yet.
She watched her young guest with new interest during the next few days;
for certain fine plans were in her mind, and every trifle helped the
decision for or against.
Mary White went smiling home that night to rejoice with her feeble
mother over the help that came so opportunely and so kindly.
Daisy looked as if her shopping _had_ prospered wonderfully though the
old necklace was the only ornament she wore; and those who saw her happy
face at the merry-making thought that she needed no other. She danced as
if her feet were as light as her heart, and enjoyed that party more than
the first; for no envy spoiled her pleasure, and a secret content
brightened all the world to her.
But the next day she discovered that temptation still had power over
her, and she nearly spoiled her first self-conquest by the fall which is
very apt to come after a triumph, to show us how hard it is to stand
fast, even when small Apollyons get in our way.
She broke the clasp of the necklace, and Mrs. Vaughn directed her to a
person who mended such things. The man examined it with interest, and
asked its history. Daisy very willingly told all she knew, inquiring if
it was really valuable.
"I'd give twenty-five dollars for it any time. I've been trying to get
one to go with a pair of earrings I picked up, and this is just what I
want. Of course you don't care to sell it, miss?" he asked, glancing at
Daisy's simple dress and rather excited face, for his offer almost took
her breath away.
She was not sufficiently worldly-wise to see that the jeweller wanted it
enough to give more for it, and to make a good bargain for herself.
Twenty-five dollars seemed a vast sum, and she only paused to collect
her wits, before she answered eagerly:--
"Yes, I _should_ like to sell it; I've had it so long I'm tired of it,
and it's all out of fashion. Mrs. Vaughn told me some people would be
glad to get it, because it is genuine. Do you really think it is worth
twenty-five dollars?"
"It's old, and I shall have to tinker it up; but it matches the earrings
so well I am willing to pay a good price for it. Will you take the money
now, miss, or think it over and call again?" asked the man, more
respectfully, after hearing Mrs. Vaughn's name.
"I'll take it now, if you please, sir. I shall leave town in a day or
two, and may not have time to call again," said Daisy, taking a
half-regretful look at the chain, as the man counted out the money.
Holding it fast, she went away feeling that this unexpected fortune was
a reward for the good use she had made of her gold piece.
"Now I can buy some really valuable ornament, and wear it without being
ashamed. What shall it be? No tinsel for me this time;" and she walked
by the attractive shop window with an air of lofty indifference, for she
really was getting over her first craze for that sort of thing.
Feeling as if she possessed the power to buy real diamonds, Daisy turned
toward the great jewellers, pausing now and then to look for some pretty
gift for Janey, bought with her own money.
"What can I get for mother? She never will own that she needs anything,
and goes shabby so I can be nice. I could get some of those fine, thick
stockings, hers are all darns,--but they might not fit. Flannel is
useful, but it isn't a pretty present. What _does_ she need most?"
As Daisy stopped before a great window, full of all manner of
comfortable garments, her eye fell on a fur-lined cloak marked "$25." It
seemed to answer her question like a voice, and as she looked at it she
heard again the words,--
"But, mother, that money was for your cloak, and you need it very much."
"Hush, dear, don't say a word to spoil Daisy's pleasure. I can do very
well with a shawl over the old sack."
"How could I forget that! What a selfish girl I am, to be thinking of
jewelry, when that dear, good mother hasn't a cloak to her back. Daisy
Field, I'm ashamed of you! Go in and buy that nice, warm one at once,
and don't let me hear of that ridiculous box again."
After this little burst of remorse and self-reproach, Daisy took another
look; and prudence suggested asking the advice of some more experienced
shopper than herself, before making so important a purchase. As if the
fates were interested in settling the matter at once, while she stood
undecided, Mary White came down the street with a parcel of work in her
hands.
"Just the person! The Vaughns needn't know anything about it; and Mary
is a good judge."
It was pleasant to see the two faces brighten as the girls met; rather
comical to watch the deep interest with which one listened and the other
explained; and beautiful to hear the grateful eagerness in Mary's voice,
as she answered cordially:--
"Indeed I will! You've been so kind to my mother, there's nothing I
wouldn't be glad to do for yours."
So in they went, and after due consideration, the cloak was bought and
ordered home,--both girls feeling that it was a little ceremony full of
love and good will; for Mary's time was money, yet she gave it gladly,
and Daisy's purse was left empty of all but the good-luck penny, which
was to bring still greater happiness in unsuspected ways.
Another secret was put away in the empty jewel-box, and the cloak hidden
in Daisy's trunk; for she felt shy of telling her little business
transactions, lest the Vaughns should consider her extravagant. But the
thought of mother's surprise and pleasure warmed her heart, and made the
last days of her visit the happiest. Being a mortal girl she did give a
sigh as she tied a bit of black velvet round her white throat, instead
of the necklace, which seemed really a treasure, now it was gone; and
she looked with great disfavor at the shabby little pin, worn where she
had fondly hoped to see the golden rose. She put a real one in its
place, and never knew that her own fresh, happy face was as lovely; for
the thought of the two mothers made comfortable by her was better than
all the pearls and diamonds that fell from the lips of the good girl in
the fairy tale.
"Let me help you pack your trunk; I love to cram things in, and dance on
the lid when it won't shut," said Laura, joining her friend next day,
just as she had got the cloak-box well hidden under a layer of clothes.
"Thank you, I'm almost done, and rather like to fuss over my own things
in my own way. You won't mind if I give this pretty box of
handkerchiefs to mother, will you, dear? I have so many things, I must
go halves with some one. The muslin apron and box of bonbons are for
Janey, because she can't wear the gloves, and this lovely _jabot_ is too
old for her," said Daisy, surveying her new possessions with girlish
satisfaction.
"Do what you like with your own. Mamma has a box of presents for your
people. She is packing it now, but I don't believe you can get it in;
your trunk is so much fuller than when you came. This must go in a safe
place, or your heart will break," and Laura took up the jewel-box,
adding with a laugh, as she opened it, "you haven't filled it, after
all! What did you do with papa's gold piece?"
"That's a secret. I'll tell some day, but not yet," said Daisy, diving
into her trunk to hide the color in her cheeks.
"Sly thing! I know you've got silver spiders and filagree racquets, and
Rhine-stone moons and stars stowed away somewhere and won't confess it.
I wanted to fill this box, but mamma said you'd do it better yourself,
so I let it alone; but I was afraid you'd think I was a selfish pig, to
have a pin for every day in the month and never give you one," said
Laura, as she looked at the single tarnished brooch reposing on the
satin cushion. "Where's your chain?" she added, before Daisy could
speak.
"It is safe enough. I'm tired of it, and don't care if I never see it
again." And Daisy packed away, and laughed as she smoothed the white
dress in its tray, remembering that it was paid for by the sale of the
old necklace.
"Give it to me, then. I like it immensely; it's so odd. I'll exchange
for anything of mine you choose. Will you?" asked Laura, who seemed bent
on asking inconvenient questions.
"I shall have to tell, or she will think me very ungrateful,"--and Daisy
felt a pang of regret even then, for Laura's offer was a generous one.
"Like G. W., 'I cannot tell a lie;' so I must 'fess' that I sold the old
thing, and spent the money for something I wanted very much,--not
jewelry, but something to give away."
Daisy was spared further confessions by the entrance of Mrs. Vaughn,
with a box in her hand.
"I have room for something more. Give me that, Laura, it will just fit
in;" and taking the little casket, she added, "Mary White wants to try
on your dress, dear. Go at once; I will help Daisy."
Laura went, and her mother stood looking down at the kneeling girl with
an expression of affectionate satisfaction which would have puzzled
Daisy, had she seen it.
"Has the visit been a pleasant one, my dear?"
"Oh, very! I can't thank you enough for the good it has done me. I hope
I can pay a little of the debt next summer, if you come our way again,"
cried Daisy, looking up with a face full of gratitude.
"We shall probably go to Europe for the summer. Laura is a good age for
it now, and we shall all enjoy it."
"How splendid! We shall miss you dreadfully, but I'm glad you are
going, and I hope Laura will find time to write me now and then. I shall
want to know how she likes the 'foreign parts' we've talked about so
much."
"You _shall_ know. We won't forget you, my dear," and with a caressing
touch on the smiling yet wistful face upturned to hers, Mrs. Vaughn went
away to pack the empty jewel-box, leaving Daisy to drop a few
irrepressible tears on the new gown, over the downfall of her summer
hopes, and the longings all girls feel for that enchanted world that
lies beyond the sea.
"We shall see you before we go, so we won't gush now," said Laura, as
she bade her friend good-by, adding in a whisper, "Some folks can have
secrets as well as other folks, and be as sly. So don't think you have
all the fun to yourself, you dear, good, generous darling."
Daisy looked bewildered, and Mrs. Vaughn added to her surprise by
kissing her very warmly as she said:
"I wanted to find a good friend for my spoiled girl, and I think I have
succeeded."
There was no time for explanation, and all the way home Daisy kept
wondering what they meant. But she forgot everything when she saw the
dear faces beaming at the door, and ran straight into her mother's arms,
while Janey hugged the trunk till her turn came for something better.
When the first raptures were over, out came the cloak; and Daisy was
well repaid for her little trials and sacrifices when she was folded in
it as her mother held her close, and thanked her as mothers only can.
Sitting in its soft shelter, she told all about it, and coming to the
end said, as she took up the jewel-box, unpacked with the other generous
gifts:--
"I haven't a thing to put in it, but I shall value it because it taught
me a lesson which I hope I never shall forget. See what a pretty thing
it is;" and opening it, Daisy gave a cry of surprise and joy, for there
lay the golden rose, with Laura's name and "Sub rosa" on a slip of
paper.
"The dear thing! she knew I wanted it, and that is what she meant by
'secrets.' I'll write and tell her mine to-morrow."
"Here is something more," said Janey, who had been lifting the tray
while her sister examined the long-desired flower.
A pair of real gold bangles shone before her delighted eyes, and a card
in Mr. Vaughn's handwriting bore these words: "Handcuffs for the thief
who stole the pocketbook."
Daisy hardly had time to laugh gayly at the old gentleman's joke, when
Janey cried out, as she opened the little drawer, "Here's another!"
It was a note from Mrs. Vaughn, but all thought it the greatest treasure
of the three, for it said briefly,--
"DEAR DAISY,--Mary told me some of your secrets, and I found out
the others. Forgive me and go to Europe with Laura, in May. Your
visit was a little test. You stood it well, and we want to know
more of you. The little box is not quite empty, but the best jewels
are the self-denial, sweet charity, and good sense you put in
yourself.
"Your friend, A. V."
Daisy could not speak, and her mother looked into the box with eyes full
of tender tears, while Janey danced about them, clashing the bangles
like a happy little bayadere, till her sister found her voice again.
Pointing to a great, bright tear that shone on the blue velvet, she
said, with her cheek against her mother's: "I always wanted a real
diamond, and there's a more precious one than any I could buy. Now I'm
sure my jewel-box _is_ full."
[Illustration]
CORNY'S CATAMOUNT