hannah was doing well in her little shop at teckford. she had always been a most saving body, and although mrs. mainwaring had never been able to pay her high wages, she had managed to put the greater portion of what she received away. hannah was one of those fortunate individuals on whom even a shabby dress will look neat. her boots lasted twice as long as any one else's, her caps retained their starch and their whiteness long after another servant's would have had to be resigned to a fresh cleaning process. hannah therefore required little or no money to spend on dress, and in consequence, when the mainwaring girls went away, she had a little nest-egg laid by to stock a shop. she found a suitable little house at teckford, laid in her little store of provisions with care, for she argued wisely that however poor people were they required food, and was living very comfortably on the proceeds of her sales. hannah, as a rule, had a smooth and unruffled brow; she was a careful woman, but not a troubled one. at the present moment, however it could scarcely be said of this good soul that she was without cares. the neighbors who came in to buy their bacon, and fresh eggs, and candles, and tea, remarked that hannah had no longer a cheery word and a pleasant smile to give them, and the children, when they tumbled out their halfpennies and asked for "a little piece of taffy, please, ma'am," noticed that hannah's eyes had red rims round them, and they wondered if she was naughty, and that was why she cried.

yes, poor hannah had a troubled heart during those early summer days, for daisy lay so weak and languid, and indifferent to all external things, on her tiny little bed, never giving hannah any information as to why she had wandered alone to rosebury, never saying anything about the weight of sorrow which rested on her little heart, only now and then moaning out that she must get up and go to mrs. ellsworthy, and now and then feebly saying that she wished so very much that the prince was there.

hannah knew all about mrs. ellsworthy, and how she had taken the girls up, and tried to help them, after their mother's death; but who was the prince?

finding that the child continued slightly feverish, and most unnaturally weak—finding that the dainties she prepared were only just tasted by the little sufferer—hannah looked well into her little store of hardly-earned money, and finding that she had sufficient to pay him, called in the village doctor.

of course, with his limited experience, this good man could little understand daisy's case. he ordered medicine for her, and plenty of cooling drinks, and said that he could not find anything very much the matter, only she was most unnaturally weak.

"it's my thinking, sir," said hannah, "that this is the kind of weakness that ends in death. my little lady is all on the pine for something or some one, and unless she gets what she wants soon she will die."

hannah's view of the case was rather puzzling to the doctor, who stared at her, and considered her from that day forward a very fanciful woman. he repeated his injunctions to give daisy plenty of milk, and to see that she took her tonic three times a day; and then he took his leave.

when he was gone hannah went to her next-door neighbor and asked her if she would be so very kind as to go and sit in the child's room for a couple of hours. then she put on her bonnet and neat black cloak, and started off on foot to rosebury. she had made up her mind to get mrs. ellsworthy's address from some one, and to write to her about daisy. in due time she arrived at the lodge, saw the woman who kept the gates, obtained from her without much difficulty mrs. ellsworthy's address, and then prepared to return home. just as she reached the stile, however, which led into the field where she had found daisy, a thought struck her—she had no writing-paper in the house, and what could be bought at teckford was almost too bad to use. hannah made up her mind to go to rosebury, which was a much more important village than teckford, and get a few sheets of note-paper, and an envelope or two. she walked very fast, for she did not like to leave daisy so long by herself, and, panting and hurried, she at last arrived at the little stationer's shop. the stationer's wife knew hannah, and greeted her with effusion.

"i'm truly pleased to see you, mrs. martin," she said. "why you're quite a stranger in these parts, and i did not expect to see you round now, with one of your young ladies returned and all."

hannah heaved a profound sigh.

"she's very, very ill, poor darling," she said. "very dangerously weak and ill; and i must trouble you to hasten with the paper, mrs. jones. one penn'orth of your most shining note, and two envelopes to match. mind you, give me a paper with a good gloss on it, mrs. jones."

mrs. jones stared at hannah martin; but fetching down a box of note-paper, prepared to wrap some sheets in tissue paper.

"i shouldn't say miss primrose was ill," she remarked as she did so, "though she do seem worried, dear young lady."

when the shop-woman made this observation hannah's pence tumbled down on the counter with a crash.

"goodness gracious me, ma'am!" she exclaimed, "you don't mean to tell me that miss primrose mainwaring is at rosebury?"

"why, of course, ma'am; why, don't you know? why you said but now how weak and ill she was."

"never mind the paper," answered hannah, "and never mind a word i said about anybody; just have the goodness to tell me where i'll find miss primrose."

"she was staying with miss martineau but yesterday and there's a gentleman come down, too—a very 'ansome, harristocratic-looking young man, i call him, and for all the world as like our pretty miss jasmine as if he was own brother to her—and they two and miss martineau are fairly scouring the place for that poor little tot miss daisy, who it seems 'as run away from home. why, hannah—hannah martin, woman! are you daft?"

for hannah had rushed from the shop while mrs. jones was speaking, leaving her neglected paper and two or three pence behind her on the counter. a few moments later the good soul was knocking at miss martineau's door, and very soon primrose and arthur noel too were in possession of all the facts that hannah could give them.

"oh, hannah! it is so good to think you were the one to save her and find her," said primrose, as she kissed her old nurse, and shed some thankful tears.

"you had better come back with me now, miss primrose," said hannah, "and perhaps the gentleman or miss martineau will send a telegraphic message to poor miss jasmine."

but primrose's difficulties had not come to an end. she instantly started to walk across the fields with hannah; but when daisy heard she had come she absolutely refused to see her, and cried so piteously, and got into such an excited state, that primrose felt herself obliged to yield to the child's caprice, and to keep out of the room.

"i can't see her, hannah," poor little daisy said. "of all people in all the world, i can't see my own primrose. oh, if only i were well enough to go to mrs. ellsworthy, or if only the prince would come!"

primrose heard daisy's weak little voice through the thin walls of hannah's cottage.

"hannah," she said, "i know who daisy means by the prince. the prince is that kind mr. noel, who has been helping me to find the little darling. if he has not gone back to london, for he said he would go back at once after he knew we had found daisy, he could come to her. oh, hannah," continued poor primrose, "i cannot think what has happened to your dear baby, daisy. i begin to believe what mr. noel has been hinting to me—that some one has got a secret influence over her."

"we had better see and find this mr. noel at once, miss, now," said practical hannah. "we can think of secret influences and all that sort of thing when we have found the gentleman whom the dear child is pining to see. if mr. noel is still at rosebury you had better put on your hat, miss primrose, and walk across the fields to the village, and bring him back with you. i'll stay with miss daisy and soothe her the best way i can. she's dreadful agitated and very weak and trembling ever since you came in, miss."

primrose said she would go back to rosebury directly, and she was so fortunate as to meet noel as he was starting for london.

"you must come with me," she said earnestly. "i fear our dear little daisy is even worse than hannah represented her to be. she has absolutely refused to see me, and talks only about you and mrs. ellsworthy. i don't know what she can want with either of you, but it is quite evident that she thinks you can help her and save her from some great trouble. poppy said she wanted mrs. ellsworthy to give her money; i suppose to replace what she lost of mine. well, mrs. ellsworthy is not here; so can you come to see her to-night?"

"i will come at once, miss mainwaring," answered noel. "if we walk down this street we shall pass the post-office, and i can send a telegram to mrs. ellsworthy and also to my servant, lawson. i must try and get into town some time to-morrow, however, for i have got to attend the trial of no less a person than your old landlord, dove. he was apprehended for stealing a bank-note and a ring from my mantle-piece."

"i never liked that man," said primrose; "indeed, i never thought either of the doves quite honest. mrs. dove made a rule of keeping back a little of the money she borrowed from me on all occasions."

then primrose and noel walked as quickly as they could down the village street. noel despatched his necessary telegram, and in a short time they both found themselves in hannah's humble cottage.

"she is asleep," said hannah, as she came out to meet them. "she is moaning in her sleep, and she gives sighs enough to break your heart. you had better, both of you, stay in my little sitting-room until she awakes."

"if you will allow me," said noel, "i will go and sit beside her bed; she is accustomed to me. i will promise to be very careful in my dealings with her. i believe i can talk to her without startling her in the least."

hannah looked dubious, but primrose interposed in her gentle voice—

"yes, hannah, mr. noel will not startle daisy; he has always had a most happy influence over her."

poor little daisy! the sight of her wan face, the anxious expression which seemed indelibly stamped on her childish brow, gave noel so strong a sense of pain and indignation that he sincerely longed to secure for dove as severe a punishment as the law would give. he sat down gently by the humble little bed, and when the child moaned and tossed in her sleep he laid his cool hand on her forehead. that hand had a magnetic effect—even in her sleep daisy seemed to know it. she murmured, "the prince, has he come?" and a moment after she opened her dark blue eyes and fixed them on noel, while a very faint smile flitted across her little face.

"you have come at last, mr. prince. i am very, very glad; i have wanted you," she said.

"i have wanted you, daisy; i have been looking for you everywhere. i have been in great trouble about you," answered noel, in his gentlest tones.

"have you?" said little daisy; "i am sorry you have been in trouble. do you know that primrose came to-day and i could not see her? i can see you, but not primrose. please let me hold your hand. i don't feel so dreadfully weak when i hold your hand. will you stoop down, and let me talk to you. i can't talk at all loud, for i'm dreadfully weak. do you know, mr. prince, that i'm going to die?"

"no, daisy, i don't think you are," answered noel. i am the prince who delivers little girls from ogres. i never heard of a little girl dying after she was delivered from the ogre."

"wicked little girls are not delivered," answered daisy. "i was so dreadfully cowardly. i was afraid of a dark dungeon, and so—and so—but i mustn't tell you. i did lose primrose's money, and i was a coward, but i haven't been so bad yet as to tell a lie. you mustn't ask me to tell you what it all means, mr. prince, for i can't. i hope very much you'll forgive me for being a cowardly little girl; god has, long ago, for i asked him, and i am not really afraid to die. i shouldn't feel a bit afraid or unhappy about it if i thought primrose and jasmine could have their money."

here daisy's voice quite failed her, and she looked so dreadfully white and weak that noel began to fear there was some truth in her poor little words. he saw that their interview must not be prolonged, and that he must give the child relief as soon as possible.

"daisy, you have got to listen to me," he said. "you need say very little yourself, but you can listen to my words. i know why you want to see mrs. ellsworthy—yes, dear, you can hold my hand as tightly as possible. no, don't tremble; you want mrs. ellsworthy to give you some money. she is not here; i know she would help you, and feel sorry for you, but there are others who do that. daisy, suppose i give you back your money instead of mrs. ellsworthy? give me your little hand, dear, and let me put the money into it. here; it makes quite a small parcel—a ten-pound note, a five-pound note, two sovereigns and a half. now, daisy, shall we keep this as a little secret between ourselves? primrose will ask no questions if you beg of her not, and when you have put that money into her hand will you not be able to have her with you again?"

daisy's little hot hand closed tightly over the money. she did not speak, or even attempt to thank noel, but her eyes, wider and wider open each moment, were fixed intently on his face.

"that is settled, then, daisy," continued noel, "and we need not think of mrs. ellsworthy just at present, for you do not now need her services. of course a prince is the right person to deliver a little girl from a dreadful ogre. i don't see that mrs. ellsworthy should have anything to do with it. now, my dear, i'm going to say one or two other things to you—you need not feel the least frightened."

"may i really keep the money?" whispered daisy at last.

"of course, i said so. we will not say any more on this subject at present. i have given you the money to-night, because i want you to have primrose sitting by your side and nursing you and comforting you. when primrose is with you again you will cease to think those gloomy thoughts about dying. now i have something else to add before i leave you."

noel had now taken a very firm hold of daisy's little hand. she had been trembling a good deal, but she had certainly grown calmer. perhaps the knowledge that she really did possess some money to give to primrose was comforting her. noel felt a sense of distress at disturbing even for her eventual good the child's present calm. it must be done, however, and he thought a moment how he could most gently deal with her.

"i'm going to tell you a story, daisy," he said—"a very sad story, and, alas, a true one. there lives a little girl, i will not tell her name, although i know it, who has been unfortunate enough to get into the power of a very bad man. the man is very, very bad, but i will not mention his name here, although i know it also. the man came to the little girl and talked to her, and no doubt he threatened her, and at last he made her promise him something—what, i cannot say. from the moment this little girl made this promise she became thin and white, and anxious and unhappy. she struggled against the terrible promise which seemed to bind her with fetters of iron, but she could never get away from it, and the man appeared like a terrible ogre to her, and she longed for a prince to come and deliver her from him. the wicked man having terrified this poor little girl, did his best to use his influence over her to his own ends. at one time she lived in the house with him, but although she struggled against it her friends induced her to go elsewhere. even in the new palace, however, she was not safe from the terrible ogre; he followed her, and, it is to be feared, although nothing is absolutely known, that he used cruel threats to induce her to give him some money which was not hers to give. the poor little weak girl was afraid to consult any one on account of her promise. it was quite natural she should think it right to keep her promise, although it was very sad. she was so completely under the power of the wicked man, or the ogre, as we will call him, that she gave him her sister's money—the money that was to support them all for some months, and then in her great despair she ran away." here noel paused—daisy's eyes were fixed on him. her face was white as death.

"you see, dear, it is a painful story," he said, "but it is not quite finished yet. the poor little girl ran away, but she never knew what was happening to the ogre. that wicked man was not allowed to continue his evil ways without punishment. at the present moment he is locked up safely in prison, where he can hurt no one. he was put there because he stole a five-pound note and a ring from the gentleman whom the little girl used to call the prince. it is believed, though of course nothing is certainly known, nor will be until the little girl is taken out of the thraldom of the ogre and confesses what has happened, that this wicked man has also stolen a good deal of money from an envelope which the elder sister used to consider her 'emergency fund' envelope. in short, it is thought that his one object in frightening the poor little girl was simply to rob her and her sisters. now that he is in prison, however, and quite out of the way of harming any one, it is greatly hoped by those who love her that the poor little one, who was made to suffer so cruelly, will be released from the thraldom of the wicked ogre, and be made to see that there are times and circumstances during which even the most truthful little girl would do better to break her word than to keep it. now, daisy, that is the end of my story; i've got nothing more to say about it, for at present i know nothing more. good-night, dear—i will send primrose to you. i will come to you when you want me again."