Daisy, in whose virile young body the habit of sound and healthy sleep was too firmly established for even an event so epochal as that of the previous evening to break her rest, awoke next morning, after a night of undisturbed slumber. A little clock, sounding one of the hours with chimes instead of the ordinary striking gong, drew her notice. The dial registered nine. The first use she made of her opened eyes was to glance, with a thrill, about that beautiful pink bedchamber; a door at one end showing a little bathroom, tiled in clean and shining white, with folded towels on a glass roller above the long porcelain tub. The morning sun came rosily in through a curtained bow window, that had an alcoved seat piled comfortably with cushions. A fresh draught coming from another quarter drew her eyes toward an open way leading to a balcony, with straw matting, a hammock, and comfortable-looking rattan rocking-chair. There was some uneasy feeling in the back, as it were, of Daisy's head. For a moment or two, she could not understand it; then, as she found herself instinctively glancing about the apartment to see if there were any corners hard to reach with the broom, the solution of her sensation of unrest came. It was nine o'clock and she was still in mental habit a housemaid at the big Harrison villa. By this hour she should have had all the windows in the sleeping-rooms opened and the blankets and sheets turned back to air the beds. Daisy laughed to herself, and snuggled back luxuriously on the deep soft pillows. Her mind resumed its office of recollection and ratchetted on over the events of the night before. The evening had been spent, by the rector's invitation, at his house, adjoining massive St. George's church. There had been a pleasant little wedding "dinner," during which Daisy had met a Mrs. Heathcote who had afterwards taken her off by herself and asked her a good many blunt and, as Daisy thought, rather intimate questions. She had met one Jessica Heathcote, too, a bird of slightly different plumage--a companionable, back-slapping girl, who sat on the edges of tables, or put her feet up on chairs like a man, while she conversed; haw-hawed and whacked her knee when she heard a good joke; and was in every way a person to banish misgiving and dolor and, unaided, to make things hum. Jess was coming over to see her early to-day. "You'll need a bit of help, you know, young-un," Jessica had predicted, "when you face 'Grandmammah'. Yes--rathah!" After the little family wedding-supper at the Heathcotes', Daisy had gone home with Sir William in the rector's car. Everybody at the Ware house had retired when they reached it, for the hour was well on toward midnight; and Sir William, after--as he jokingly put it, to Daisy--"smuggling" her up to this apartment, had pushed her playfully in, and with a squeeze of the hand and a whispered "pleasant dreams," had considerately departed to his own rooms.