“Certainly,” said Daisy, stooping down with a strange unexplainable thrill at her heart and picking up the wide-brimmed sun-hat and crutch, which was unfortunately broken by the fall.
A low cry burst from the child’s lips.
“Oh, my crutch is broken!” she cried, in dismay. “What shall I do? I can not walk back to the house. I am lame!”
“Let me see if I can help you,” said Daisy, scaling the stone wall with the grace of a fawn. “Put your arms around my neck,” she said, “and cling very tight. I will soon have you down from your high perch; never mind the crutch. I can carry you up to the porch; it is not very far, and you are not heavy.”
In a very few moments Daisy had the child down safely upon terra firma.
“Thank you,” said the child. “I know you are tired; we will rest a moment, please, on this fallen log.”
The touch of the little girl’s hands, the glance of the soft brown eyes, and the tone of her voice seemed to recall every word and glance of Rex, and hold a strange fascination for her.
“I shall tell my mother and my brother how good you have been to me, and they will thank you too. My name is Birdie; please tell me yours.”
“My name is Daisy Brooks,” she answered.