It was verging towards evening when Mr. Goodman received the message alluded to above; and Daisy, after wondering a little what could have called her father away at this hour, determined to sally forth and enjoy a stroll in the avenue with Rover. Her governess had a headache and could not accompany her; but this did not matter, for the child was ten years old and not afraid to go by herself. Accordingly, out she went. But, to her surprise, when she reached the sidewalk her pet refused to follow. He stood quite still, and you might have fancied that he was revolving some project in his noddle. “Come, come!” said Daisy impatiently. But the dog stirred not an inch, nor even wagged his tail. And now happened something very interesting indeed. Rover presently did move, but not in the direction which his young mistress wished――up towards the Park――but down the avenue. Nor would he halt when she bade him, and only once did he glance back at her. “Well, well, I’ll follow him,” said Daisy. “He likes Madison Square; perhaps he is going there.” She was mistaken, however. Past the Square the poodle went, then down Broadway, and on, on, to Daisy’s astonishment and grief, who kept imploring him to stop; and once she caught his ear and tried to hold him back, but he broke loose, then proceeded at a brisker pace than before, so that it was necessary almost to run in order to keep up with him. By and by the child really grew alarmed; for she found herself no longer in Broadway, but in a much narrower street, where every other house had a hillock of rubbish in front of it, and where the stoops and sidewalks were crowded with sickly-looking children in miserable garments, and who made big eyes at her as she went by. The curs, too, yelped at Rover, as if he had no business to be among them; and one mangy beast tried to tear off his pretty blue ribbon. But, albeit no coward, Rover paused not to fight; steadily on he trotted, until at length he dived down a flight of rickety steps. Daisy had to follow, for she durst not leave him now; she seemed to be miles away from her beautiful home on Murray Hill, and there was no choice left, save to trust to her pet to guide her back when he felt inclined. But it was not easy to penetrate into the cavern-like domicile whither the stairway led; for it was very full of people. The dog, however, managed to squeeze through them; and Daisy, who was clinging to his shaggy coat, presently found herself in an open space lit up by half a dozen tapers, and in the middle of the ring a boy was yelling and swinging his arms around with terrific velocity, and the boy looked very like Flywheel Bob. “Hi! ho! Here’s a fairy, Bob――a fairy!” cried a voice, as Daisy emerged from the crowd and stood trembling before him. “It’s Cinderella,” shouted another. “Isn’t she a beauty!” exclaimed a third voice.