So every one believed; but this proved to be a mistake, for puss was more persistent and daring than any one would have thought possible.

"Johnny," said Mrs. Ransom, when Daisy had gone, "could you not arrange some place up in the garret where Daisy could keep her mice and they need not come in my way?"

"It is just what I was thinking of, mamma," said Johnny; "you need never know they were there."

"There now," said Carrie to herself, "so it is no harm at all for me to have my mice up there. I shall just keep them."

For repentant resolutions of giving up her hidden prize, and disposing of it in some way without betraying herself, were flitting through Carrie's mind; but now she put them from her again.

"First, we'll see if we cannot knock up some sort of a support to hold a hook in the garden-house," said Johnny, "and then we'll hang the cage upon that. The roof is so old and broken it will not hold; but we may put something in the wall to keep the cage out of the cat's reach, and we'll try it before we bring them in the house, mamma."

Daisy fed her mice, as she generally did at this time of the day,—the little creatures nibbled their food right out of her hand—played with and fondled them, talking to them the while in a coaxing, crooning voice of all her affairs, unconscious of the cruel, greedy eyes which were watching her every motion and those of her pets.

For Rover having gone, puss had made the most of her opportunities, and came creeping slowly and stealthily beneath bushes and behind walls, till she reached the garden-house once more; and climbing to the roof sat watching the little child and her playthings through a hole in the thatch.

And, by and by, this naughty bÊte noir thought her chance had come.

"Now, you ducky darlin's," said Daisy, "I b'lieve it's time for Frankie to come back to my house and play wif me. So you must go in your cage while I go and see, and we'll come back and play here where you can see us. No, you needn't want to go into the house wif me. Mamma don't like you, which is a great, great pity; but she can't help it."

The mice seemed strangely reluctant to go back in their cage, whether it was that they only scented their watchful enemy, or that they had caught a glimpse of the glittering eyes looking down upon them; for one, with a squeak of terror, fled into the depths of Daisy's pocket, and the other would have followed had she not caught him in her hand and stopped him.

"No, no," she said, "you'll have to go into your cage, Dot, and you too, Ditto. Peoples have to do what they don't want to sometimes, and so do mouses. I've found that out," and Daisy shook her head with the air of one who has made a novel and important discovery.

She put the mice into the cage, where they speedily hid themselves beneath their bed, shut and fastened the door and set it upon the floor, believing that she would return in a moment with Frankie and let them out again.

Then she ran away to the house, where, as she had expected, she found Frankie who had just arrived with his sisters, Maggie and Bessie. They had not cared to wait till their mother came to take Mrs. Ransom to drive, but had begged and received permission to walk over that they might have the longer afternoon for their visit.

Daisy and Frankie were off together immediately, and the four elder children were settling the question of "what shall we do first?" when the whole household were startled by a succession of fearful shrieks from Daisy, accompanied by shouts of defiance and threats from Frankie. The sounds came from the garden-house; and Daisy's cry was not the dismal, low wail she set up at times over some minor trouble, but an unmistakable scream of terror and pain.

Away ran every one to see what was the matter; mother, brothers and sisters, guests and servants; even Ruth, baby in arms, tearing down the stairs to follow the rest.

The garden-house reached, the trouble proved not as serious as might have been feared; but quite enough so to warrant all the uproar from the two distressed little ones.

There crouched Daisy in an ecstasy of terror, bending over her white mice, which she held cuddled up in her lap; never ceasing her screams and calls for help, while Frankie brandishing a hoe stood boldly between her and the black cat, which with glaring eyes, back erect, stood spitting and growling at the two children, determined no longer to be balked of her prey. For this was no tame puss accustomed to be fed, and having a comfortable home; but a wild, stray cat, half-starved, and now quite furious at seeing her intended prize once more rescued.

Not fairly rescued, if she could help it. Long waiting for the dainty meal and many disappointments had made her desperate; and more than once she had nearly sprung past the brave little Frankie, who, resolute as the brute herself, fairly stood his ground, and faced her at every turn, calling aloud,—

"Hi! you there! you'd better be off with yourself. Now, you; you'll catch it! I'll give it to you! I'll hoe you if you don't look out! You want to be hoed, do you? I won't let her get them, Daisy. Run, Daisy, run!"

But Daisy was past running; terror had taken all power from her save that of shielding her pets, as she best could, against her bosom, and shrieking aloud for help.

It was well that help was so close at hand, or the situation of the two little ones might indeed have become dangerous; but at the sight of so many flocking to the rescue, the cat turned and fled, pursued by the boys with stones and sticks,—and who could blame them in such a case as this?—but escaped without much hurt from the missiles which they threw with better will than aim.

The story was soon told: how, coming to the garden-house and pushing open the door, the first thing that presented itself to the eyes of Daisy and Frankie was the black cat, with one paw actually in the cage, the mice squeaking in terror, and shrinking from the cruel claws outstretched for their destruction; how Frankie had snatched the cage away, and the mice had immediately fled to the protection of Daisy's bosom, whence the cat had once tried to tear them.

How the brave little knight had fought her off, and then tried to stand between his tiny lady-love and farther harm, the new-comers had seen for themselves; how devotedly Daisy herself had clung to her darlings, and how furious their enemy had been, was testified by the poor little woman's torn and scratched arm, bleeding from the adversary's claws, and the bent and twisted bars of the cage.

It was plainly to be seen that the garden-house was no longer a safe place for the white mice, not even until such time as the boys could arrange some contrivance for hanging up the cage; and now Mrs. Ransom almost forgot her dread of them in her sympathy over her poor little girl's distress and bleeding arms.

Poor little dimpled white arms! even now they would not relax their sheltering hold of the white mice, but held them firmly clasped.

Daisy was speedily carried to the house, and once more seated, white mice and all, on her mother's lap, while her scratches were bathed and bound up.

"A wag on it" was Daisy's sovereign remedy for every thing in the shape of a wound or bruise.

"Let me put your mice away, darling," said Nellie, ever mindful of her mother's antipathy.

"Oh, no! don't take 'em out. Mamma might see 'em, and she can't bear 'em," sobbed Daisy, holding the little skirt tighter than ever. "And oh, dear! I b'lieve I'll have to give 'em back to Frankie, 'cause I can't let 'em live in the garden-house for that black old dreadful cat to eat them up, and I s'pose mamma wouldn't want me to live there all the time, even with some one to take care of me."

No, indeed, mamma thought not, as she folded the darling closer in her arms, and bade her cry no more; for her white mice should come into the house, and the boys should arrange a place for them where they would be quite safe from black cats and other enemies.

To see the change in Daisy's face!

"Mamma! don't you mind? don't you weally mind? Won't they trouble you?"

It was not possible for Mrs. Ransom to say that she would not be annoyed by the presence of the white mice in the house, even though they might never come under her own eye; and, although for Daisy's sake she put aside her own feelings, the loving heart of the little one detected the slight reluctance with which she spoke.

"Mamma couldn't have your white mice destroyed, darling," she answered; "and if Daisy is so careful for mamma, mamma must be careful for Daisy. So let the mice come Suppose you let Nellie take them now."

Opening her skirt, Daisy revealed the mice, still trembling and quivering with their fright; and, seeking to hide themselves, the one made for the bosom of her dress, the other unluckily ran over mamma's lap looking for some place of refuge. Johnny's hand was over him in an instant, but not before his mother had grown white to the lips, and in spite of a strong effort she could not control a shudder of disgust. This did not escape Daisy.

"Better put 'em away, quick, 'way far off, Johnny," she said in a pitiful little voice, and resigning the other mouse to his care; and Johnny carried both away.

Daisy was used to petting; but in consequence of her misfortunes, and the honorable wounds she had received in the skirmish, she was so overwhelmed with attentions and caresses, not only from her own family, but also from Maggie and Bessie, that she was presently consoled, and beguiled from mamma's lap to the piazza, where she was seated in state among her admirers, and continued to be made much of.

Frankie also came in for a share of the honors he had so fairly won by his heroic defence of his little lady-love and her property; but he presently concluded he had had enough of them, and would like to go upstairs with the older boys and watch them at their work. He would fain have persuaded Daisy to go with him, but she still remained mournful and subdued, and preferred to stay with the little girls and be petted.

For there was a great weight on Daisy's little mind, and a great purpose working there,—a purpose which required much resolution and much self-sacrifice; and it was hard to bring her courage to the point. She had small thought for what the other children were saying, as she sat nestled close to Nellie's side, with her sister's arm about her, and one of Bessie's hands clasped in her own.

Carrie's thoughts were not more easy than Daisy's, and they were far less innocent. She was in an agony lest the boys, who were now in the garret, should discover her secret. And there was Frankie with them! Frankie, who had a faculty for finding that which he was not intended to find, for seeing that which he was not intended to see, for hearing that which he was not intended to hear; who, full of mischief and curiosity, went poking and prying everywhere, and whose bright eyes and busy fingers would, she feared, be sure to fasten themselves upon the hidden box. But she dared not follow the boys upstairs, for it would seem strange if she left Maggie and Bessie, and her doing so might excite questions.

Oh that she had never touched the mice, or had at once obeyed Nellie's directions respecting them, which Carrie's conscience told her now, as it had at the time, was the same as if her mother had given them!

"Nellie and Carrie," said Maggie, "what do you think we are doing, Bessie and I?"

"We don't know. What?" said Nellie.

"Guess," answered Maggie.

"Oh! I'm not good at guessing," said Nellie, smiling. "I never guessed any thing or answered a conundrum in my life, except some of Daisy's;" and she drew her arm closer about the pensive little mortal at her side.

Daisy's conundrums were many and various, some so very transparent that she might as well have given the answer with the question, others so extremely bewildering that Œdipus himself could scarcely have unravelled their meaning; and it was in these last that she gloried, always feeling rather aggrieved if any one gave the right answer.

"She gave a conundrum last night that none of us could guess," continued Nellie, wishing to amuse and interest her little sister. "See if Maggie and Bessie can guess it now, Daisy."

Daisy aroused a little from her melancholy, and said in a plaintive voice,—

"Why don't a pig wif a ni'gown on him want to go to the kitchen fire?"

Maggie and Bessie gave up at once, knowing that this would be Daisy's preference; besides being really quite at a loss to understand why a pig in such unusual attire should shun that particular spot, "the kitchen fire."

"Because he's af'aid he'll burn his ni'gown," said Daisy, when she was called upon for the answer, which Maggie and Bessie pronounced "very good;" and, being encouraged by her success, the pitiful little damsel put forth another conundrum, having reference to the subject which was weighing so heavily on her mind.

"Here's anofer one," she said: "Why don't white mice like to live in the garden-house?"

"Because they are afraid the black cat will eat them," said Carrie, less mindful of her sister's prejudices than Maggie and Bessie had been.

"Now, why did you guess it so soon?" said the affronted Daisy; and this proving the drop too much in the already overflowing cup, her head went down in Nellie's lap, and she resigned herself to tears once more.

None of the other children dreamed of the chief trouble which was weighing on her little heart; but her misfortunes of the afternoon were considered so serious that no one thought it at all strange that she should be in a melancholy state of mind. Still, silent sympathy, at present, seemed the best to Nellie, and she contented herself with softly caressing the bent head, and checked the others with uplifted finger when they would have cheered Daisy with spoken words.

"Talk about something else," she spelled out in the sign alphabet, and then asked aloud,—

"What is it you and Bessie are doing, Maggie?"

"Making such lovely Christmas presents for mamma," answered Maggie.

"What! already?" said Carrie.

"Yes," said Maggie, "because it will take us so long to work it, and we have lots besides to do. And then some dreadful accident might happen to us to prevent our finishing it, you know, like Sir Percy nearly putting out Lily Norris' eye; so it's best to take time by the forelock at once, even if it is only July."

"What are you making?" asked Nellie.

"A pair of brackets, the loveliest things," answered Maggie, with emphasis. "Bessie is filling up one, and I the other."

"And we are going to have them made up ourselves, quite ourselves, out of our own money," said Bessie. "Nellie, why wouldn't you like to make something for your mamma of your own work? You can do worsted work so very nicely."

"I would like to very much," said Nellie. "And I have some money of my own that I could use."

"I shall do it too," said Carrie.

"If you would like to do the same thing that we are doing," said Maggie, "Mrs. Finkenstadt has another pair of brackets nearly like ours, and at the same price. They are very pretty."

"But I'm afraid"—began Nellie, then paused.

"Not that you don't know how," said Maggie; "why, Nellie, every one knows you work better than any of us."

"I was thinking if I would have time enough," said Nellie, "now that I am mamma's housekeeper. It takes up a good deal of time; and then—and then"—

"Oh! it's your old books," said Carrie. "I should think you might be willing to give them up to make something pretty for mamma. If you didn't study so much more than any of the other girls, you could do it very well. I think you might make one; for then I could do the other, if you would show me how."

"I'll show you how and help you all I can," said Nellie, "but I do not think I shall try to do one myself. And it's not because of my studies, Carrie, but for another reason that I'd rather not tell."

"Mamma would just as lief let you give up being her housekeeper if you want to do something else for her," said Carrie.

"I don't want her to," answered Nellie, "for—I do believe I am of use to mamma, and I would not like to put that off for something that is not necessary. Besides, I have still another reason."

"I'm sure I think it seems a great deal more to make a lovely Christmas present for mamma than to do housekeeping for her. I believe she'd rather," said Carrie.

"I don't believe so," answered Nellie.

"And, Carrie," said Maggie, "very often in this world we have to put up with appearances being deceitful, and with knowing not only that 'all is not gold that glitters,' but also that some very true gold does not glitter at all; and Nellie's private reason may be very true gold, indeed, without our seeing it glitter. Besides, mamma says Nellie is one of the most sensible little girls she ever saw; and I believe she is a case of 'old head on young shoulders,' so we may as well think that she is wise and right until we know differently."

Maggie's fine speech, overflowing as it was with proverbs, silenced Carrie, as her wise sayings did usually silence her companions, who did not command such a flow of ideas and language; and Nellie gave her a grateful look.

"Here's mamma in the carriage to take out your mamma," said Bessie; and the attention of the children was for the moment diverted from their own affairs.

"Will you go and drive too, Daisy?" said Mrs. Bradford.

"No, fank you, ma'am," answered Daisy, much to the astonishment of the other children, as she raised her woe-begone little face from its resting-place. For Daisy was generally very ready for a drive, or for an outing of any kind.

But now to all their persuasions, to all their expressions of surprise, she remained perfectly immovable, only blinking her eyes very hard, pursing up her rosy lips, and shaking her head, in the most deplorable manner possible.

But the cause of this came out when Mrs. Bradford and Mrs. Ransom had gone; for as the carriage drove away the boys came running downstairs and out upon the piazza.

"Now your white mice will be all safe, Daisy," said Frankie; "me and Johnny and Bob have made the first-ratest place for them up in the garret. I'd like to see that old cat finding them up there. Come and see how nice it is."

"It's no matter about it," said Daisy. "You're all very good, and I'm very obliged to you; but I wouldn't feel to keep my mice up in the garret."

"What are you going to do with them then?" asked Johnny.

"I couldn't have 'em in the house when mamma feels so about it," said Daisy, choking back a sob, and trying to be very brave.

"She said you could," said Bob.

"Yes, I know she did," answered Daisy; "but she don't like it, I know she don't, and so I'm going to give 'em back to Frankie."

"But, Daisy"—began Johnny.

"No, no," said Daisy, putting out a little hand to stop him, "don't speak to me about it, Johnny, 'cause I do feel so very bad, then maybe I wouldn't; and I should fink a little girl who wouldn't rafer please her mamma than to have white mice must be the naughtiest little girl in the world."

"You dear little thing!" exclaimed Maggie.

"I don't believe mamma would care at all so long as she never saw them," said Bob; "do you, Nellie?"

Nellie hesitated.

"I do think she would care," she answered reluctantly, for Daisy's wistful eyes were raised to her face, as if hoping for an encouraging answer; "but she has made up her mind to bear it for Daisy's sake."

"But I don't want her to do any more sake for me," sighed Daisy. "I'd better do sake for her, I should fink; and please don't speak any more about it, children. I'd like to have 'em to play wif down here till mamma comes home; and then I'll give 'em back to Frankie for ever an' ever an' ever. That was why I wouldn't go and drive, so I could say good by to 'em."

Nellie did not oppose her self-sacrificing resolution, hard as she knew it was for the child; for she was sure that her mamma would never feel easy while the creatures were in the house, and she was sure also that in some way she would make it up to Daisy.

Not that Daisy had any such idea. No, in giving up her mice she did it without any thought of payment, only to save mamma from annoyance and discomfort, a great and generous sacrifice for such a little child; for Daisy was but five years old, you must remember; and this showed thought and consideration worthy of a much older person. But then Daisy always had been remarkable for her tender, clinging love for her mother, and her earnest desire to please her in all things.

It struck all the other children; and they overwhelmed her with caresses and expressions of admiration and affection; even bluff Bob, who seldom condescended to bestow much flattering notice upon his sisters, declaring,—

"Well, you are a little brick, Daisy."

It was pleasant to be so petted and admired, for Daisy dearly loved praise, and in all this she found consolation, and began to put on little airs and graces befitting a heroine.

Dear little lamb! who would quarrel with her if she did?

How hard it went with her might be seen by the working of the sweet face, the pitiful pressure of the tiny hands one against the other, the swimming eyes and choking voice.

It was too much for Carrie.

The contrast between her own conduct and that of her little sister was more than her uneasy conscience could bear; secret remorse and shame overwhelmed her, and with a quick resolve to be "as good as Daisy," and sacrifice her own wishes to her mother's prejudices, she slipped away from the other children, and ran upstairs, determined to put the gray mice out of the way.