And that was not much; and there were very few poor people around Melbourne that wanted just that sort of attention.
So Daisy gave up her scheme.

Nevertheless next morning it gave her a twinge of heart to see her rose-bush laid by the heels, exactly like her hopes.

Daisy stood and looked at it.

The sweet half-blown rose at the top of the little tree hung ingloriously over the soil, and yet looked so lovely and smelt so sweet; and Daisy had hoped it might win poor Molly Skelton's favour, or at least begin to open a way for it to come in due time.
"So ye didn't get your bush planted--" said Logan coming up.
"No." "Your hands were not strong enough to make the hole deep for it, Miss Daisy ?" "Yes, I think they could; but I met with an interruption yesterday, Logan." "Weel--it'll just bide here till ye want it." Daisy wished it was back in its old place again; but she did not like to say so, and she went slowly back to the house.

As she mounted the piazza steps she heard her father's voice.