AISY DEAN is a little lass,

With rosy cheeks and eyes like glass;

When she sulks she is very queer,

When she smiles she is very dear;

Pretty and fair as a flower is she,

Busy and quick as a little bee.

Good or bad, do what she may,

We wash and dress her every day;

Comb her hair, and give her milk,

And dress her well with sash of silk.

With all her faults, we never have seen

A dearer girl than our Daisy Dean.

Daisy was much pleased with her little verses, "all her own," as she said, and I heard her whispering to her friend May that she would never sulk again if she could help it. Daisy has one serious fault: she never puts things in their places. One morning she could not find her hat anywhere, and her mamma made her go to school without it. Daisy cried and wanted to wear her best one, but her mamma said, "No; that would not teach her to remember." The girls were much amused when Daisy entered the dressing-room at school without any hat on.

"What have you done with it?" asked May.

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"I don't know; it is lost somewhere."

"What a careless little girl! Why, I always hang mine up in one place when I go home from school or play," said May.

"So do I," said several of the girls, but some of the boys did not speak, and a little bird whispers to me that some of my kindest "little friends throw their caps down on the floor, table, lounge, chairs, or the first place they can find." Oh, oh, boys! this is too bad, for "order is heaven's first law."

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