The ragged balsams--the coarse bloom of prince's feather and cockscomb--some straggling tufts of ribband grass and four-o'clocks and marigolds--and the great sunflower nodding its head on high over all; while weeds were only kept away from the very growth of the flowers and started up everywhere else, and grass grew irregularly where grass should not; and in the midst of it all the poor cripple on her hands and knees in the dirt, more uncared-for, more unseemly and unlovely than her little plot of weeds and flowers.

Daisy looked at her, with a new tide of tenderness flowing up in her heart, along with the doubt how her mission should be executed or how it would be received; then she gave up her reins, took the rose-tree in her hands, and softly opened the little wicket gate.
She went up the path and stood beside the cripple, who hearing the gate shut had risen from her grubbing in the earth and sat back looking at who was coming.

Daisy went on without hesitation now.

She had prayed out all her prayer about it before setting out from home.
"I have brought you a rose-bush," she said simply.

"Do you like roses?
this is very sweet.