Daisy opened her eyes when she heard Primrose's name, and held up a hot little hand to her sister, who clasped it very firmly. "I want to speak to you all by yourself, Primrose," she whispered. "Please ask Jasmine, and Miss Egerton, and Bridget to go away. I want to say something most important to you." "Leave us for a moment," said Primrose to the others; and Jasmine went down with Miss Egerton to the sitting-room. The moment Daisy found herself quite alone with Primrose she raised her head, ceased crying, and looked at her sister with bright feverish eyes, and cheeks that burned. "Primrose," she said, "would you think it very, very wrong of me if I did something that wasn't in itself the very best thing to do, but something that I had to do to prevent a dreadful ogre putting me down into a dark dungeon? Would it be very wrong of me to do a very little thing to prevent it, Primrose?" "My darling," said Primrose, "your poor little head must be wandering. I don't understand what you mean, my dear little one. Of course it would be only right of you to keep away from an ogre, and not to allow one to touch you--but there are no ogres. Daisy love--there never were such creatures. You need not make yourself unhappy about beings that never existed. The fact is, Daisy, you are too much alone, and your little head has got quite full of the idea of fairies. I must ask Mr. Noel not to talk to you in so fanciful a manner." "Oh don't, Primrose, for it is my one and only comfort. Oh! I am glad you think I ought to keep out of the ogre's power. He is a dreadful, dreadful ogre, and he has tried to get into the Palace, and I am awfully afraid of him." Then Daisy laughed quite strangely, and said, in a wistful little voice-- "Of course, Primrose, this is only fairy-talk. I always was fond of fairies, wasn't I? Primrose, darling, I want you to do a little thing for me, will you?" "Of course, Daisy. Why, how you are trembling, dear!" "Hold my hand," said Daisy, "and let me put my head on your shoulder. Now I'll ask you about the little thing, Primrose; there's your letter from Mr. Danesfield on the table." "Has it come?" said Primrose; "I am glad. I expected it yesterday morning." "It's on the table," repeated Daisy. "Will you open it, Primrose? I'd like to see what's inside." "Oh, there'll be nothing very pretty inside, darling; it is probably a postal order for our quarter's money." "Yes, but let me see it, Primrose." Primrose moved slowly to the table, took up the letter, and opened it. "It's just as I said, Daisy," she remarked, "only, no--it's not a postal order, it's a cheque. I must write my name on the back, and take it to the Metropolitan Bank to cash to-morrow." "Let me see you writing your name on the back, please, Primrose," said Daisy, in a queer, constrained little voice. Primrose smiled to herself at the child's caprice but, taking up a pen, she put her signature across the back of the cheque.