Poor little girl-bride, there had been a time when she had whispered to her heart that her name was Daisy Lyon; but that bright dream was over now; she would never be aught else than--Daisy Brooks. "Is your name really Daisy?" cried the little girl in a transport of delight, scarcely catching the last name. "Why, that is the name my brother loves best in the world. You have such a sweet face," said the child, earnestly. "I would choose the name of some flower as just suited to you. I should have thought of Lily, Rose, Pansy, or Violet, but I should never have thought of anything one half so pretty as Daisy; it just suits you." All through her life Daisy felt that to be the sweetest compliment ever paid her. Daisy laughed--the only happy laugh that had passed her lips since she had met Rex that morning under the magnolia-tree. "Shall I tell you what my brother said about daisies?" "Yes, you may tell me, if you like," Daisy answered, observing the child delighted to talk of her brother. "He has been away for a long time," explained Birdie. "He only came home last night, and I cried myself to sleep, I was so glad. You see," said the child, growing more confidential, and nestling closer to Daisy's side, and opening wide her great brown eyes, "I was crying for fear he would bring home a wife, and mamma was crying for fear he wouldn't. I wrote him a letter all by myself once, and begged him not to marry, but come home all alone, and you see he did," cried the child, overjoyed. "When he answered my letter, he inclosed a little pressed flower, with a golden heart and little white leaves around it, saying: 'There is no flower like the daisy for me. I shall always prize them as pearls beyond price.' I planted a whole bed of them beneath his window, and I placed a fresh vase of them in his room, mingled with some forget-me-nots, and when he saw them, he caught me in his arms, and cried as though his heart would break." If the white fleecy clouds in the blue sky, the murmuring sea, or the silver-throated bobolink swinging in the green leafy bough above her head, had only whispered to Daisy why he loved the flowers so well which bore the name of daisy, how much misery might have been spared two loving hearts! The gray, dusky shadows of twilight were creeping up from the sea. "Oh, see how late it is growing," cried Birdie, starting up in alarm. "I am afraid you could not carry me up to the porch. If you could only summon a servant, or--or--my brother." For answer, Daisy raised the slight burden in her arms with a smile. "I like you more than I can tell," said Birdie, laying her soft, pink, dimpled cheek against Daisy's. "Won't you come often to the angle in the stone wall? That is my favorite nook. I like to sit there and watch the white sails glide by over the white crested waves." "Yes," said Daisy, "I will come every day." "Some time I may bring my brother with me; you must love him, too, won't you?"