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?"