"What shall we play?" asked Rosie Pierson.

"Lady Queen Fair," said Bessie Norton: "we'll go out on the piazza and play it."

"Yes," said Violet; "and Lily shall be Lady Queen Fair, and we'll dress her up a little. Miss Emily," as a third Miss Collins, who gave music lessons to the girls, passed by, "may we have a rose to put in Lily's hair for Lady Fair?"

The young lady smiled, stopped and pulled a couple of roses from the vine which wound itself around one of the pillars of the piazza, and gave them to Violet, then passed on.

Time had been when Violet would have hoped, perhaps would have asked to be Lady Fair herself, and been sulky and displeased if the other children had not agreed; but now she was very different, and more apt to prefer another before herself.

The roses were soon arranged, the one in the hair, the other in the bosom of the little Lady Queen, who took her dignities in the calmest manner. Meanwhile some of the other children were drawing forward one of the rustic chairs with which the piazza was furnished, to serve as a throne.

But the little queen, like many another royal lady before her, found her throne by no means an easy one.

"Ow!" she said, rubbing her little round white shoulders where she had scratched them against the rough bark of the twisted boughs which made the back of the chair, "ow! this is not nice at all, or comfortal. My feet don't come to the floor, and if I lean back I'm all scratched. I'd rather be a queen without a throne."

"Oh, no! You must have a throne," said Susy Edwards. "Queens have to."

"I don't see why," said Lily, rather pettishly; for she did not feel very well that morning, and that and the close heat of the day made her more fretful than usual. "I should think queens could do just as they have a mind to and make their subjiks do it too; and I don't see what they have to have their skin all scraped up for if they don't want to;" and Lily twisted her head to give an aggrieved look at the little fat shoulder with that red mark upon it.

"I'll fix you," said Lola. "I'll put Miss Collins' footstool under your feet and you shall have the big cushion behind you. Some one bring the cushion while I carry the stool."

The footstool was brought in a moment; but the cushion was not to be found.

"The big girls had it yesterday," said Fanny Satterlee. "I saw them with it in their recess when I was going home. There comes Cora Prime now; let's ask her. Cora, what did the big girls do with that cushion yesterday when they had done with it?"

"The Lord knows; I don't," said Cora, playfully tapping Fanny on the head with the roll of music in her hand.

"Oh!" exclaimed Lily.

Daisy did not speak; but as Cora's eye happened to fall upon her, her face said as much as Lily's "Oh!"

"What's the matter with you two?" asked Cora, looking from one to the other of the little girls, but still good-natured.

"You oughtn't to say that," said Lily.

"Ought not to say what?"

"The Lord knows," answered Lily.

"Well, don't He know?" asked Cora.

"No," said Lily, doubtfully, "I guess not. I don't believe He'd bother Himself with knowing about a worn-out old cushion what has a hole in the cover, and such things."

"Yes, He does, too," said Cora, laughing; "are not the very hairs of our head numbered?"

"Now, I know you ought to be 'shamed," said Lily. "You're talking Bible; and that is not right, is it, Daisy?"

"No," said Daisy, as boldly as Lily herself could have done, for quoting Scripture in a careless manner was also a habit of many in the school.

"You two saucy monkeys! correcting your elders," said Cora, much amused. "I heard you both talking Bible to Miss Collins this morning with all the rest of your class."

"We were only saying what we learned in Sunday school yesterday," said Lily. "That's not the same thing. I know it's not right to talk Bible that kind of a way. Papa says so, and he tells us not to do it."

"Your papa's saying so does not make a thing right or wrong," said Cora.

"Yes, it does, too!" said Lily. "My papa knows a whole lot, and he wouldn't tell a story for any thing. Cora, you'd better go to your music lesson: I 'speck Miss Emily wants you."

"Oh, you are very considerate for Miss Emily, all at once," said Cora, more amused than ever; "but you haven't told me why I shouldn't say, The Lord knows, when He does know."

Lily looked at Daisy, who stood by the arm of her chair, for help. The little one felt that Cora was wrong, but she did not exactly know how to answer, and she had noticed how careful Daisy was to honor the name of God.

"Is it not taking the name of God in vain?" said Daisy.

"Upon my word!" said Cora. "Do you mean to call that swearing?"

"Well, yes," said Lily, taking up the word, "a kind of baby swearing, I s'pose; but you know it's not very good of you, Cora."

"Everybody says such things: they don't mean any thing," said Cora.

"Not everybody," answered Lily. "Daisy don't."

"Then Daisy's uncommonly good," said Cora.

"Yes, she is," replied Lily; "and I s'pose everybody ought to be uncommonly good and never say them."

Cora laughed again.

"Everybody must mind their p's and q's before you: mustn't they, Lily?" and away she ran to her music lesson.

"Here's the cushion," said Rosie Pierson, running out from the school-room. "I found it in the closet under the shelf where those careless big girls left it, I s'pose."

The cushion was put behind Lily's shoulders, but still the little queen fidgeted on her throne and declared she was not yet "comfortal."

"'Cause if I lean back against the cushion my feet won't touch the stool," she said.

"We'll put something else on the stool to make it higher," said Nettie Prime, who was trying to arrange Lily satisfactorily: "what shall we take? Oh, I know. Daisy, run and bring the big Bible off Miss Collins' table for Lily to put her feet on."

Daisy, who made a motion to start forward as Nettie began to speak, stood still when she heard what she called for.

"Make haste," said the latter, impatiently: "we won't have a bit of time to play."

Daisy did not move, but stood with rising color, trying to make up her mind to speak.

"Oh! you disobliging thing!" said Violet, and she ran for the book.

"Oh! don't," said Daisy, as Violet came back and stooped to put the Bible on the footstool; "I didn't mean to be disobliging, but we ought not to use the Bible to play with."

"Pooh!" said Violet: "Lily's little feet won't hurt it. It's all worn out, any way. The cover is real shabby."

"I didn't mean that," answered Daisy; "I meant because it is God's book, and we ought to treat it very carefully."

"Oh, fiddle! How awfully particular you are, Daisy!" said Minnie Grey. "Why, girls, do you know, the other day, when I was playing paper-dolls with her and I turned up a Bible to make the side of a house, she took it away, and when I put it back again 'cause it stood up better than the other books, she said she wouldn't play if I did so with the Bible."

"I s'pose Daisy would call that 'taking God's name in vain,'" said another, half reproachfully; "wouldn't you, Daisy?"

"I think it is something the same," answered Daisy, feeling as if all the others were finding fault with her and thinking her "awfully particular," a crime which no little girl likes to have laid to her charge.

"I don't see how," said Lola. "I know we ought not to play with the Bible; but I don't see how it is taking God's name in vain."

"But the Bible is God's book, and He told it to the men who wrote it, and His name is in it a great many times," said Daisy, "and I think it seems like taking it in vain to play with it or to put things upon it, or to knock it about like our other school-books. And it is not right to say 'the Lord knows,' and 'mercy,' and 'gracious,' and such words, when we are just playing, or when we are provoked."

"What is the harm?" asked Rosie. "Mercy and gracious are not God's name."

"Well, no," said Daisy, slowly, not exactly knowing how to explain herself. "And maybe I make a mistake; but it does seem to me as if it was a kind of—of—"

"Of little swearing, as Lily says," said Lola.

"Yes," said Daisy. "Rosie thinks it is no harm; but even if it is not much harm, I don't see what is the good of it. We can talk just as well without saying such words."

"I guess they are pretty wicked," said Lily. "The day mamma went away, I said 'good heavens,' and she said 'Lily! Lily!' very quick, like she does when I do something very naughty, and she asked me where I learned that; and I told her Elly said it. I didn't mean to tell a tale about Elly; but mamma looked sorry, and she told me never to say it again. I guess 'mercy' is 'most the same, and I guess I won't say it any more; and, Daisy, if I hear the other girls say those words, I'll help you correct 'em."

Lily promised this with an air of such grave importance that the other children laughed. Not in the least abashed, Lily went on,—

"Papa's coming home day after to-morrow, and I'll ask him to tell me a whole lot about God's name, and why it is wrong to say those things; and then I'll tell all you girls. But I'm not coming to school any more when mamma comes home; so you'll have to come to my house, and I'll have a swearing class, and teach you all about it."

Lily's words might have been taken with a different meaning from that which she intended to give them; but the other children understood her, and that was enough.

"But, Daisy," said Lola, "how do you know so much about these things when you don't know a great deal about every-day lessons, and have had no one to teach you for so long?"

"I don't know," said Daisy. "I think my own mamma who was drowned used to teach me in the home I used to have;" and the dreamy look came into her eyes which they always wore when she spoke of her far-away home and those she had loved there. "I think I've forgotten a good many things," she added; "but you know I couldn't forget what mamma taught me about Jesus and what He wanted us to do if we loved Him. And I think if we do love Him we won't say words about His name, His heaven, or any thing that is His, that are not very good and gentle, and that we are very sure He would like us to say."

"But you are so very particular, Daisy," said Minnie; "I think you are most too particular."

"I didn't think we could be too particular about doing what Jesus likes," said Daisy.

The other children had all gathered about Daisy, and were listening with interest to what she said. Perhaps they heard her with more patience than they would have given to any one else; for Daisy was a kind of mystery to them, and they looked upon her as a sort of fairy or princess in disguise, and would not have been at all surprised to hear the most extravagant stories about her, for she was "just like a story-book child." Lily had said so one day when she was speaking of her at home.

"No," said Lola, thoughtfully; "but it does not seem as if such little things could be wrong. I know it can't be right to play with the Bible or say its words just when we are joking or for our own common talk; but I don't see the harm of saying 'goodness,' or 'mercy,' or 'heavens,' or those words which you never will say, Daisy; they are not God's name, and I don't see how it is taking it in vain to say them."

Daisy looked thoughtful. She felt she was right, and wanted to explain herself; but she was rather shy and could not find words to do so.

But Lily, whom shyness never troubled, came to her aid.

"Never mind," she said: "I'll ask papa just as soon as he comes home, and he'll tell us all about it; and if he says it is naughty, why, it is, and we won't do it; and if he says it's good enough, why, we will. That's the way to fix it."

Here the bell rang.

"There, now," said Susy Edwards, "we have to go in, and we've wasted all our time talking, and never had a bit of good of our recess."

But I think Susy was mistaken, and that they had one and all gained more good from their talk than they could have done from any amount of play; for it had set more than one young mind thinking; and from this day, even the most careless among them would check herself when she found she was on the point of using these words which had grown so common among them, more from want of thought than from any wish or temptation to do wrong.

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