Crum Elbow was not a great many miles off, and in due time they reached it.  But Daisy found that other people kept earlier hours than her father and mother at Melbourne.  She saw the farmers were getting to work as she went on; and in the houses of the village there were signs that everybody was fully astir to the business of the day.  It was a scattering village; the houses and the churches stood and called to each other across great spaces of fields and fences between; but just where the crossing of two roads made a business point, there was a little more compactness.  There was the baker’s, and the post-office, and two stores and various other houses, and a blacksmith’s shop.  Up to the corner where the principal store stood, came the pony and his mistress, and forthwith out came Mr. Lamb the storekeeper, to see what the little pony chaise wanted to take home; but Daisy must see for herself, and she got out and went into the store.

“Baskets,” said Mr. Lamb.  “What sort of baskets?”

“Baskets to hold strawberries—­little baskets,” said Daisy.

“Ah! strawberry baskets.  That, ma’am, is the article.”

Was it?  Daisy did not think so.  The storekeeper had shewed her the kind of baskets commonly used to hold strawberries for the market; containing about half a pint.  She remarked they were not large enough.

“No, ma’am?  They are the kind generally used—­regular strawberry baskets—­we have sold ’em nearly all out, but we’ve got a few left.”

“They are not large enough, nor pretty enough,” repeated Daisy.

“They’ll look pretty when they get the strawberries in them,” said the storekeeper with a knowing look at her.  “But here’s a kind, ma’am, are a little neater—­may be you would like these—­What do you want, child?”

There had come into the store just after Daisy a little poor-looking child, who had stood near, watching what was going on.  Daisy turned to look at her as Mr. Lamb’s question was thrown at her over the counter, in a tone very different from his words to herself.  She saw a pale, freckled, pensive-faced little girl, in very slim clothing, her dress short and ragged, and feet bare.  The child had been looking at her and her baskets, but now suddenly looked away to the shopkeeper.

“Please, sir, I want—­”

“There! stop,” said Mr. Lamb; “don’t you see I’m busy.  I can’t attend to you just now; you must wait.—­Are these baskets better, ma’am?” he said coming back to Daisy and a smooth voice.

Daisy felt troubled, but she tried to attend to her business.  She asked the price of the baskets.

“Those first I shewed you, ma’am, are three pence apiece—­these are sixpence.  This is quite a tasty basket,” said Mr. Lamb, balancing one on his forefinger.  “Being open, you see, it shews the fruit through.  I think these might answer your purpose.”

“What are those?” said Daisy pointing to another kind.