John Brooks had reached the very mouth of the pit now, and through the branches of the trees the men saw him suddenly spring forward, and stoop as if to pick up something, and bitter cries rent the stillness of the summer morning. "Daisy! oh, Daisy! my child, my child!" Then they saw him fall heavily to the ground on the very brink of the shaft. "I guess he's found her!" cried the sympathizing men. "Let us go and see." They found John Brooks insensible, lying prone on his face, grasping a tiny little glove in one hand, and in the other a snowy little handkerchief, which bore, in one corner, worked in fanciful design, the name of "Daisy." CHAPTER XVII. Glengrove was one of the most beautiful spots in the south of Florida. The house--similar to many in the South in style of architecture--stood in the midst of charming grounds which were filled with flowers. To the left of the house was a large shrubbery which opened on to a wide carriage-drive leading to the main road, but the principal attraction of Glengrove was its magnificent orange grove, where the brilliant sunshine loved to linger longest among the dark-green boughs, painting the luscious fruit with its own golden coloring--from green to gold. A low stone wall divided it from the beach which led to the sea. It was early morning. In an elegant boudoir, whose oriel window overlooked the garden, sat three young ladies, respectively, Bessie Glenn, two-and-twenty; Gertie Glenn, twenty; and Eve Glenn, eighteen--all dark-eyed, dark-haired, and handsome, yet each of a distinct different type. "I declare, Bess," cried Gertie, indignantly, twisting the telegram she held in her hand into a wisp, "it's from Uncle Jet! Guess what he says!" "I couldn't possibly," yawns Bess, from the depths of her easy-chair; "it's too much trouble." "Is it about Alice?" questioned Eve, maliciously. "Yes," replied Gertie; "but you are to try and guess what it is." "Why, I suppose some stranger has chanced to flutter down into the quiet little village of Elmwood, and Alice thinks it her duty to stay there and capture him." "That isn't it at all," snapped Gertie. "Uncle Jet says Alice can not come; but he has taken the liberty of sending another young lady in her stead, and hopes Miss Daisy Brooks will be the right person in the right place. She will arrive on the twentieth, at nine A. M." Eve jumped to her feet in actual astonishment, and even Bessie dropped her novel, with widely opened eyes. "Just fancy some tall, gaunt old maid of a companion, with such a name!" she cried, raising her eyebrows and picking up her book again. "I think you will find the daisy a rather ancient and faded flower." "She couldn't be anything else," assented Gertie. "Wouldn't it be fun if she should turn out to be young and pretty, and take the shine off both of you?" laughed Eve, puckering up her mouth. "I would enjoy it immensely!" "Eve, will you hold your tongue?" commanded Bessie, sharply.