Near hand the green of
plantations and woodland was varied with brown grainfields, where grain
had been, and with ripening Indian corn and buckwheat; but more
especially with here and there a stately roof-tree or gable of some fine
new or old country house. The light was mellow, the air was good; in the
excitement of her drive Daisy half forgot her perplexity and
discomfiture. Till the doctor said, suddenly looking round at her with a
smile,
"Now I should like to know the history of that rose bush."
"O, there is no history about it," said Daisy, quite taken by surprise.
"Everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end," said the doctor.
"What was the beginning of this?"
"Only, Dr. Sandford," said Daisy doubtfully,--"I was sorry for that poor
woman, after what you told me about her."
"Molly Skelton?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you thought to comfort her with rose bushes?"
"No sir,--but--I wanted to get on good terms with her."
"Are you on any other terms?"
"She does not know me, you know, sir," said Daisy lifting to her friend
a face that was beyond his comprehension,--"and I do not think she was
very well pleased to see me in her garden a little while ago."
"You have been in her garden, then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Daisy, will you excuse me for asking, why you should be on any terms
whatever with Molly Skelton?"
"She is so unhappy, Dr. Sandford,"--Daisy said, looking up again.
"And do you think you can do anything to make her less unhappy?"
"I thought"--Daisy did not look up now, but the doctor watching her saw
a witnessing tinge that he knew coming about her eyelids, and a softened
line of lip, that made him listen the closer,--"I thought--I might teach
her something that would make her happy,--if I could.
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