There was no nicer house to live in than Daisy Farm: it was old-fashioned and roomy; there were heaps of small bedrooms with low ceilings, and heaps of long passages, and unexpected turnings, and dear little cosey corners; and there was a large nursery made out of two or three of the small rooms thrown together, and this nursery had casement windows, and from the windows the daisies, which gave their name to the farm, could be seen. They came up in thousands upon thousands, and no power of man and scythe combined could keep them down. The mowing-machine only suppressed them for a day or two; up they started anew in their snowy dresses, with their modest pink frills and bright yellow edges.
Mr. Rogers, who owned Daisy Farm, objected to the flowers; but his children delighted in them, and picked them in baskets-full, and made daisy-chains to their hearts’ content. There were several children who lived in this pleasant farmhouse, for Tic-tac-too had many brothers and sisters. The old-fashioned nursery was all that a modern nursery should be; it had deep cupboards for toys, and each child had his or her wide shelf to keep special treasures on; and the window-ledges were cosey places to curl up in on wet days, when the rain beat outside, and the wind sighed, and even the daisies looked as if they did not like to be washed so much.
Some of the children at Daisy Farm were old enough to have governesses and masters, to have a schoolroom for themselves, and, in short, to have very little to say to the nursery; but still there were four nursery little ones; and one day mother electrified the children by telling them that another little boy was coming to pay them a visit.
“He is coming to-morrow,” said mother; “he is a year younger than Alec here, but his mother has asked us to take care of him. You must all be kind to the little baby stranger, children, and try your very best to make him feel at home. Poor little man, I trust he will be happy with us.”
Mother sighed as she spoke; and when she did this, Rosie, the eldest nursery child, looked up at her quickly. Rosie had dark gray eyes, and a very sympathetic face; she was the kind of child who felt everybody’s troubles, and nurse said she did this far more than was good for her.
The moment her mother left the room, Rosie ran up to her nurse, and spoke eagerly—
“Why did mother sigh when she said a new little boy was coming here, nursie?”
“Oh, my love, how can I tell? People sigh most likely from habit, and from no reason whatever. There’s nothing to fret anybody in a sigh, Miss Rosie.”