"It would be perfectly¹ splendid, and just what I long for, but I don't see how I can go with nothing[188] fit to wear," said Daisy, looking up from the letter in her hand, with a face full of girlish eagerness and anxiety.  
Mrs. Field set every fear at rest with a reassuring² smile, as she quietly made one of the sacrifices mothers think so small, when made for the dear creatures for whom they live.
 
"You shall go, dear; I have a little sum put by for an emergency. Twenty-five dollars will do a good deal, when tastes are simple and we do our own dressmaking."
 
"But mother, that was for your cloak. You need it so much I can't bear to have you give it up," said sober little Jane, the home-girl, who never cared for visiting like her gay elder sister.
 
"Hush³, dear; I can do very well with a shawl over my old sack. Don't say a word to spoil Daisy's pleasure. She needs a change after this dull autumn, and must be neat and nice."
 
Janey said no more, and fell to thinking what she had to offer Daisy; for both took great pride in the pretty girl, who was the queen among her young friends.
 
Daisy heard, but was so busy re-reading the letter that she took no notice then, though she recalled the words later.
 
"Come and pass the holidays with us. We all want to see you, and Laura begs you will not disappoint her."
 
This was the invitation that came from Laura's mother; for the two girls had struck up a great friendship[189] during the summer the city family passed in the little country town where Daisy lived. She had ardently⁴ hoped that Laura would not forget the charming plan, and now the cordial message came, just when the season would be gayest in town.
 
"I suppose I must have the everlasting⁵ white muslin for a party dress, as that is the cheapest thing a girl can wear. A nun's-veiling is what I long for, but I'm afraid we can't afford it," she said with a sigh, coming back from visions of city delights to the all-important question of dress.
 
"Yes, you can, and new ribbons, gloves, and slippers⁶ as well. You are so small it doesn't take much, and we can make it right up ourselves. So run and collect all your little finery, while I go and do the shopping at once."
 
"You dearest of mothers! how you always manage to give me what I want, and smooth all my worries away. I'll be as good as gold, and bring you the best present I can find."
 
Daisy's grateful kiss warmed the dear woman's heart, and made her forget how shabby the old sack was, as she trudged⁷ away to spend the money carefully hoarded⁸ for the much needed cloak.
 
Needles and fingers flew, and two days before Christmas, Daisy set out for the enchanted⁹ city, feeling very rich with the pretty new dress in her trunk, and five dollars for pocket money. It seemed a large sum to the country girl, and she planned to spend it all in gifts for mother and Janey, whose tired faces rather haunted her after she had caught the last glimpse of them.
 
Her reception was a warm one, for all the Vaughns[190] were interested in the blooming little creature they had found among the hills, and did their best to make her visit a pleasant one. The first day she was in a delightful¹⁰ sort of maze¹¹, things were so splendid, gay and new; the second she felt awkward and countrified, and wished she had not come. A letter from her mother on Christmas morning did her good, and gave her courage to bear the little trials that afflicted¹² her.
 
"My clothes do look dowdy¹³ beside Laura's elegant costumes, though they did seem very nice at home; but my hair isn't red, and that's a comfort," she said to herself, as she dressed for the party that evening.
 
She could not help smiling at the bonny figure she saw in the long mirror, and wishing mother and Janey could see the work of their hands in all its glory; for the simple white dress was most becoming, and her kind host had supplied her with lovely flowers for bosom¹⁴ and bouquet¹⁵.
 
But the smile died as she took up her one ornament¹⁶, an antique necklace, given her by an old aunt. At home it was considered a very rare and beautiful thing, and Daisy had been rather proud of her rococo¹⁷ chain till she saw Laura's collection of trinkets, the variety and brilliancy of which dazzled her eyes, and woke a burning desire to possess treasures of the same sort. It was some consolation¹⁸ to find that the most striking were not very expensive, and after poring over them with deep interest, Daisy privately¹⁹ resolved to buy as many as her five dollars would compass. These new ornaments²⁰ could be worn during her visit, and serve[191] as gifts when she went home; so the extravagance would not be so great as it seemed.
 
This purpose comforted her, as she put on the old necklace, which looked very dingy²¹ beside the Rhinestones²² that flashed, the silver bangles that clashed, and the gilded²³ butterflies, spiders, arrows, flowers, and daggers²⁴ that shone on the young girls whom she met that evening. Their fine dresses she could not hope to imitate, but a pin and a pair of bracelets²⁵ were possible, and she resolved to have them, if she had to borrow money to get home with.
 
Her head was quite turned by this desire for the cheap trinkets which attract all feminine eyes now-a-days, and when, among the pretty things that came to her from the Christmas tree that night, she received a blue plush jewel-box, she felt that it was almost a duty to fill it as soon as possible.
 
"Isn't it a beauty? I never had one, and it is just what I wanted," said Daisy, delightedly lifting the tray full of satin beds for pretty things, and pulling out the little drawer underneath²⁶, where the giver's card lay.
 
"I told papa a work-box or a fan would be better; but he liked this and would buy it," explained Laura, who knew how useless it was to her friend.
 
"It was very kind of him, and I prefer it to either of those. I've nothing but my old chain and a shabby little pin to put in it now, but I'll fill it in time," answered Daisy, whose eyes seemed to behold²⁷ the unbought treasures already reposing²⁸ on the dainty cushion.
 
"Real jewels are the best, my dear, for their worth[192] and beauty are never lost. The tinsel girls wear now is poor stuff, and money is thrown away in buying it," said Mrs. Vaughn, who overheard them and guessed the temptation which beset²⁹ the little country girl.
 
Daisy looked conscious, but answered, with a smile, and a hand on her necklace, "This old thing wouldn't look well in my pretty box, so I'll leave it empty till I can afford something better."
 
"But that antique chain is worth many mock diamonds; for it is genuine, and its age adds to its value. Lovers of such things would pay a good price for that and keep it carefully. So don't be ashamed of it, my dear,—though this pretty throat needs no ornament," added Mrs. Vaughn, hoping the girl would not forget the little lesson she was trying to give her.
 
Daisy did not, but when she went to bed, set the jewel-box on the table where it would meet her eyes the first thing in the morning, and then fell asleep trying to decide that she would buy no baubles³⁰, since there were better things to spend her money on.
 
Nothing more was said; but as the two girls went about the gay street on various pleasant errands, Daisy never could pass the jewellers' windows without stopping to gloat over the trays full of enchanting³¹ ornaments. More than once, when alone, she went in to inquire the prices of these much coveted³³ trifles, and their cheapness made the temptation harder to resist. Certain things had a sort of fascination³⁴ for her, and seemed to haunt her in an uncanny way, giving her no peace till she would decide to buy them. A golden[193] rose with a diamond drop of dew on its leaves got into her very dreams; an enamelled butterfly flew before her as she walked, and a pair of silver bangles rattled³⁵ in her ear like goblin castanets.
 
"I shall not be safe till I spend that money, so I might as well decide on something and be at peace," said poor Daisy, after some days of this girlish struggle; "I needn't buy anything for mother and Janey, for I can share my nice and useful presents with them; but I should like to be able to show the girls my lovely jewel-box with something pretty in it, and I will! Laura needn't know anything about it, for I'm sure she'd think it silly, and so would her mother. I'll slip in now and buy that rose; it's only three dollars, and the other two will get one porte-bonheur, or the dear butterfly."
 
Making her way through the crowd that always stood before the brilliant window, Daisy went in and demanded the rose; then, rather scared by this reckless act she paused, and decided³⁶ to look farther before buying anything else. With a pleasant little flutter of the heart as the pretty trinket was done up, she put her hand into her pocket to pay for it, and all the color died out of her cheeks when she found no purse there. In vain she pulled out handkerchief, keys, and pincushion; no sign of money was found but a ten-cent piece which had fallen out at some time. She looked so pale and dismayed that the shopman guessed her misfortune before she told it, but all the comfort he offered was the useless information that the crowded corner was a great place for pick-pockets.
 
There was nothing to be done but to return the[194] rose and go sadly home, feeling that fate was very cruel to snatch away this long-coveted happiness when so nearly won. Like the milk-maid who upset her pail while planning which ribbons would become her best, poor Daisy's dreams of splendor³⁷ came to a sudden end; for instead of a golden rose, she was left with only ten cents,—and not even a purse to put it in.
 
She went home angry, disappointed, and ashamed, but too proud to complain, though not able to keep the loss to herself; for it was a sad affair, and her face betrayed her in spite of her efforts to be gay.
 
"I know you were staring at the French diamonds in that corner store. I never can get you by there without a regular tug," cried Laura, when the tale was very briefly³⁸ told.
 
"I can't help it; I'm perfectly fascinated by those foolish things, and I know I should have bought some; so it is well that I've lost my money, perhaps," answered Daisy, looking so innocently penitent³⁹ and so frankly⁴⁰ disappointed that Mr. Vaughn said kindly⁴¹:—
 
"So it is, for now I have a chance to complete my Christmas present. I was not sure it would suit so I gave it empty. Please use this in buying some of the 'fascinating things' you like so well."
 
A bright ten-dollar gold piece was slipped into Daisy's hand, and she was obliged to keep it, in spite of all her protestations that she could live without trinkets, and did not need it as her ticket home was already bought. Mrs. Vaughn added a nice little[195] purse, and Laura advised her to keep the lone³² ten-cent piece for a good-luck penny.
 
"Now I can do it with a free mind, and fill my box as Mr. Vaughn wishes me to. Won't it be fun?" thought Daisy, as she skipped up-stairs after dinner, with a load of care lifted from her spirits.
 
Laura was taking a music lesson, so her guest went to the sewing-room to mend the facing of her dress, which some one had stepped on while she stood in that fatal crowd. A seamstress was there, sewing as if for a wager⁴², and while Daisy stitched her braid she wondered if there was any need of such haste; for the young woman's fingers flew, a feverish⁴³ color was in her cheeks, and now and then she sighed as if tired or worried.
 
"Let me help, if you are in a hurry, Miss White. I can sew fast, and know something of dressmaking. Please let me. I'd love to do anything for Mrs. Vaughn, she is so kind to me," said Daisy, when her small job was done, lingering to make the offer, though an interesting book was waiting in her room.
 
"Thank you, I guess I can get through by dark. I do want to finish, for my mother is sick, and needs me as well as the money," answered the needle-woman, pausing to give the girl a grateful smile, then stitching away faster than ever.
 
"Then I must help. Give me that sleeve to sew up, and rest a little. You look dreadfully tired, and you've been working all day," insisted Daisy.
 
"That's real kind, and it would be a great help, if you really like it," answered Miss White, with a sigh[196] of relief as she handed over the sleeve, and saw how heartily⁴⁴ and helpfully Daisy fell to work.
 
Of course they talked, for the friendly act opened both hearts, and did both girls good. As the younger listened to the little story of love and labor⁴⁵, the gold piece burned in her pocket, and tinsel trinkets looked very poor beside the sacrifices so sweetly made by this good daughter for the feeble mother whose comfort and support she was.
 
"Our landlord has raised the rent, but I can't move now, for the cold and the worry would kill ma; so I'm tugging⁴⁶ away to pay the extra money, else he will turn us out, I'm afraid."
 
"Why don't you tell Mrs. Vaughn? She helps every one, and loves to do it."
 
"So she does, bless her! She has done a deal for us, and that's why I can't ask for more. I won't beg while I can work, but worry wears on me, and if I break down what will become of mother?"
 
Poor Mary shook the tears out of her eyes, for daylight was going, and she had no time to cry; but Daisy stopped to wonder how it would seem to be in her place, "tugging away" day after day to keep a roof over mother. It made her heart ache to think of it, and sent her hand to her pocket with a joyful⁴⁷ sense of power; for alms-giving was a ne............