She let her hair fall loose as she spoke, and put on an arch look to provoke a favourable verdict. Muzzy's hitherto dull mood brightened under her influence. "What theatre did you go to, my dear?" "To the Olympic. We saw Daisy Farm. Isn't it a pretty name? Now, one would fancy that everybody was happy at Daisy Farm, because of the name; but it wasn't so. They were all in trouble until the end of the play, and then something very unexpected happened, and everything came right. Is it so in real life?" "I don't think so." "But it's nice in a play. I wonder how ever they can cram such a lot of things in a couple of hours; and it all seems so natural! There was one part that Some One did not like; it was where a young man who had been doing wrong--stealing money from his master--robbed his own father (as we all thought he was), so that he could put the money back. Some One got regularly excited over it; but it turned out that the man he robbed wasn't his father, so _that_ was all right. When that was shown and the young man got off, Some One clapped so, that everybody looked at him. He lost his sweetheart, though." "Who?" "The young man in the play. As we were walking home, I said to Some One, 'Supposing that was you, would you have liked to lose your sweetheart in that way?' He turned quite white at the idea, and he looked at me so strangely, and said, 'But you wouldn't throw me off as that heartless girl did in the play, would you, Lizzie?' I said, 'No; that I wouldn't.' 'Not even if I was as bad as that young fellow?' asked Some One, to try me. And then I said----But you can guess what I said, daddy. I don't think I'm a changeable girl, like some." "Come and sit down, Lizzie," said Muzzy; "I want to talk to you." The girl obeyed, and as Muzzy did not immediately speak, she fell a-musing. Sweet thoughts were hers evidently, for presently the laugh that was like music came from her, evoked by something pleasant that she had seen or heard in her fancies. The sound aroused her, and looking up she saw Muzzy holding out the flower he had brought home for her. "For you, Liz." "O, thank you, dad." She held it up by the side of her hair to admire it, and asked how it looked there. Out of his full-hearted admiration of her pretty ways he had but one answer, of course. Then she placed it in the bosom of her dress, which was slightly open at the throat, and as the leaves touched her fair akin, she looked down and smiled both on the flower and herself. "Some One would be jealous," she said, "if he saw it there; especially after what he brought me to-night. Wait a minute; I'll show you." She ran out of the room, and returned with a large bunch of flowers, fresh and fragrant like herself. "Are they not beautiful? Am I not a lucky girl? Just think! Two presents of flowers in one night!" "Mine is a poor one, Lizzie." "It is very pretty, and I shall put it in water all by itself."