"Those who have seen her say she is peculiarly beautiful and fascinating, though cold, reserved, and as haughty as a queen," said Gertie. "Cold and reserved," sneered Bess. "I guess you would not have thought so if you had been at the drawing-room window to-day and seen her bending over Rex so lovingly. I declare I expected every moment to see her kiss him." The box which held the seed-pearls dropped to the floor with a crash, and the white, glistening beads were scattered about in all directions. "Why, what a careless creature you are, Daisy Brooks!" cried Gertie, in dismay. "Just see what you have done! Half of them will be lost, and what is not lost will be smashed, and I had just enough to finish that lily on the front breadth and twine among the blossoms for my hair. What do you suppose I'm going to do now, you provoking girl? It is actually enough to make one cry." "I am so sorry," sighed Daisy, piteously. "Sorry! Will that bring back my seed-pearls? I have half a mind to make mamma deduct the amount from your salary." "You may have it all if it will only replace them," said Daisy, earnestly. "I think, though, I have gathered them all up." A great, round tear rolled off from her long, silky eyelashes and into the very heart of the frosted lily over which she bent, but the lily's petals seemed to close about it, leaving no trace of its presence. Bessie and Gertie openly discussed their chagrin and keen disappointment, yet admitting what a handsome couple Rex and Pluma made--he so courteous and noble, she so royal and queenly. "Of course we must call upon her if she is to be Rex's wife," said Gertie, spitefully. "I foresee she will be exceedingly popular." "We must also invite her to Glengrove," said Bess, thoughtfully. "It is the least we can do, and it is expected of us. I quite forgot to mention one of their servants was telling Jim both Rex and little Birdie intend to accompany Miss Hurlhurst back to Whitestone Hall as soon after the funeral as matters can be arranged." "Why, that is startling news indeed! Why, then, they will probably leave some time this week!" cried Gertie. "Most probably," said Bess. "You ought certainly to send over your note this evening--it is very early yet." "There is no one to send," said Gertie. "Jim has driven over to Natchez, and there is no one else to go." "Perhaps Daisy will go for you," suggested Bess. There was no need of being jealous _now_ of Daisy's beauty in that direction. Gertie gladly availed herself of the suggestion. "Daisy," she said, turning abruptly to the quivering little figure, whose face drooped over the lilac silk, "never mind finishing that dress to-night. I wish you to take a note over to the large gray stone house yonder, and be sure to deliver it to Mr. Rex Lyon himself." CHAPTER XXV. Gertie Glenn never forgot the despairing cry that broke from Daisy's white lips as she repeated her command: "I wish you to deliver this note to Mr. Rex Lyon himself."