"There! didn't I tell you you could never find the way?" laughed John until he was red in the face. "You suppose a city is like our country lanes, eh?--where you tell a stranger: 'Follow that path until you come to a sign-post, then that will tell you which road leads to the village.' Ha! ha! ha! Why, my dear little Daisy, not one person in a hundred whom you might meet ever heard of Madame Whitney! In cities people don't know their very neighbors personally. They are sure to find out if there's any scandal afloat about them--and that is all they do know about them. You would have a lively time of it finding Madame Whitney's without your old uncle John to pilot you through, I can tell you." Daisy's last hope was nipped in the bud. She had told herself, if she were left alone, she could send a telegram back at once to Rex, and he would join her, and she would not have to go to school--school, which would separate a girl-bride from her handsome young husband, of whom she was fast learning to be so fond. "I could have sent you under the care of Mr. Stanwick," continued John, thoughtfully. "He started for the city yesterday--but I did not receive Madame Whitney's letter in time." He did not notice, as he spoke, that the occupant in the seat directly in front of them gave a perceptible start, drawing the broad slouch hat he wore, which concealed his features so well, still further over his face, while a cruel smile lingered for a moment about the handsome mouth. The stranger appeared deeply interested in the columns of the paper he held before him; but in reality he was listening attentively to the conversation going on behind him. "I shall not lose sight of this pretty little girl," said Lester Stanwick to himself, for it was he. "No power on earth shall save her from me. I shall win her from him--by fair means or foul. It will be a glorious revenge!" "Madame Whitney's seminary is a very high-toned institution," continued John, reflectively; "and the young girls I saw there wore no end of furbelows and ribbons; but I'll warrant for fresh, sweet beauty you'll come out ahead of all of 'em, Pet." "You think so much of me, dear good old uncle," cried Daisy, gratefully. "I--I wonder if any one in the world could ever--could ever care for me as--as you do?" whispered Daisy, laying her soft, warm cheek against his rough hand.