CHAPTER XL.
A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.
There are little girls of ten years old who in the present day are possessed of a large amount of self-possession.

Some of these little maids are, in their own way, quite womanly--they can ask their way without faltering, and they can even walk about alone in a great world like London without losing themselves.
But to this class of self-possessed little girls Daisy Mainwaring did not belong.

She had a charming, babyish little face, and was something of the baby still in the confiding and wistful way in which she leaned on others for support.

Daisy was, perhaps, in all particulars younger than her years.

When at last, after inconceivable difficulties--after being jostled about by an indifferent crowd, and pushed rudely against by more than one stupid, blundering porter--she did find her way to the right ticket-office, and did secure her single third to Rosebury, and then get a very small allowance of room in a crowded third-class carriage her heart was beating so loudly that she almost wondered it did not burst.