THE JOURNEY.
Poppy went away presently, and the moment she was gone Daisy began to
make some hasty little preparations.
"I'll take the Pink with me," she said to herself. "I'll empty all the
things out of my little work-basket, and my darling Pink can sleep in
it quite snugly, and she'll be great company to me, for I cannot help
feeling very shaky, and I do start so when I see any one the least
like Mr. Dove in the distance. I mustn't think about being frightened
now--this is the least I could do, and if I'm terrified all over I
must go through with it."
Then Daisy wrote a tiny note--a little note on half a sheet of
paper--which she tore out of her copy-book. It was blotted with tears
and almost illegible. This was what she said:--
"Primrose, darling, I and the Pink, we have gone away for a little
bit. Your money is lost, Primrose, and I cannot look you in the face
until I get it back again. Don't be a bit frightened about me--I and
the Pink will come back when we have got the money.
"Your loving little
"DAISY."
This note was left open on the table to greet Primrose when she came
in, and then Daisy buttoned on her little jacket, and put on her
strongest pair of boots, and the neat little hat which Primrose had
trimmed for her the week before, and popping the Pink into her
work-basket, she stole softly downstairs and out of the house without
old Bridget, who was busily engaged in the back kitchen, hearing her.
The poor little maid got into the street just when the shades of
evening were beginning to fall. She had the Pink in her basket, and
fifteen shillings clasped tightly inside one of her gloves. Fifteen
shillings paid for a third single to Rosebury, and she was going to
Rosebury--so far her plans were definite enough; beyond this broad
fact, however, all was chaos.
Daisy knew very little more about London than she had known nine
months before, when first she and her sisters arrived in the great
city. She had gone out much less than the other two, and she had never
gone alone. Whenever she had walked abroad she had gone with a
companion.
Now her only companion was the Pink, and the poor little heart felt
very lonely, and the little feet trembled as they walked along the
pavement.
She had been so terrified about Poppy finding out what she really
wanted to do with the fifteen shillings that she had been afraid to
ask her any questions about Rosebury. She had not an idea from what
railway station she was to go, and she feared, as she walked through
the streets, that she might have to walk many miles.
At first she walked very rapidly, for she was anxious to get out of
Mr. Dove's neighborhood, and she also thought it just possible that
she might meet Primrose or Jasmine returning home. Besides the fifteen
shillings which were to pay for her ticket she had threepence of her
own in her pocket. When she had walked about half an hour, and thought
that she had gone a long way, and felt quite sure that she could not
be very far from the railway station which led to Rosebury, the Pink
awoke, and twisting and turning in her narrow basket began to mew
loudly.
"Oh, poor Kitty Pink," said Daisy, "she must be wanting her supper,
poor dear little kitty! I'm not at all hungry myself, but I think I
ought to buy a penno'th of milk for my kitty. I'll just go into that
shop over there--I see that they sell bread and milk. Perhaps they'll
give me some bread and milk for kitty for a penny, and oh, perhaps
they will know if I am near the right railway station for Rosebury."
Summoning up all her courage, for Daisy was naturally a timid child,
she ventured into the shop, and having asked for some bread and milk
for her cat, which was given with a little stare of amusement by a
good-natured looking woman, she put her important question in a very
faltering voice.
"Rosebury, my little dear?" said the shopwoman; "no, I never heard of
the place. Is it anywhere near London, love?"
"No," said Daisy; "it's miles and miles away from London. I know the
county it's in--it's in Devonshire and a third single costs fifteen
shillings, and I have got fifteen shillings in my glove. Now, perhaps,
you'll know where it is."
"In Devonshire?" repeated the woman. "And a third single costs fifteen
shillings? Surely, miss, you are not going all that long way by
yourself?"
"Yes," said Daisy, in a dignified little tone. "I'm obliged to go.
Thank you very much for Pussy's milk. How much am I to pay? Oh, a
penny? Thank you. Good evening."
The Pink was once more shut down into her basket, and Daisy hurried
out of the shop. The good-natured woman stared after her, and felt
half inclined to call her back; but, like many another, she reflected
that it was no affair of hers. The child went on to the end of the
long street, and then stood at a corner where several omnibuses came
up. A conductor, seeing her wistful little face, jumped down from his
stand, and asked her if she wanted to go anywhere.
"To Rosebury, in Devonshire," said poor little Daisy. "It's fifteen
shillings a single third."
The man smiled at the anxious little face.
"You want to get to Devonshire, missy," he said. "Then I expect
Waterloo's your line, and this here 'bus of mine goes there. Jump in,
missy, and I'll put you down at the right place."
"I've only got two pennies," said Daisy, "Will two pennies pay for a
drive to Waterloo for me and kitty?"
The man smiled, and said he thought he might manage to take her to
Waterloo for that sum.