As the passengers from the newly-arrived train commenced to file along the corridor, Daisy, watching from her place in line, found her interest centred almost as much in looking for some forlorn and eager little person like that self of her present memory, as in "keeping her eye peeled" (in accordance with the request contained in a recently-received letter) for John and Lovina Nixon. But the travellers on this train were nearly all either blase souls of the "drummer" type, who have no wonder left for anything beneath the sun, or badger-gray country people who looked as though they were on a business trip and were doing mental arithmetic relating to hotel-bills as they stumped along. All bored, dull, worried or indifferent. No gay, no dancing, no holiday souls in the whole drab-faced file--at almost the end of which came stony-faced John Nixon with his square beard, dingy skin, harshly-drawn brows and mouth, and small suspicious eyes; and thin, stooped, fault-finding Lovina, with her sharp nose, her glance of ill-surmise, and bonnet pinned teeteringly on her top-knot. Recollection blew on Daisy like a cold wave with her first view of them; but the feeling passed, and she found herself waiting mischievously to see if they would recognize her. John Nixon passed dourly on; but Lovina's hawklike eyes, as she drew opposite to where Daisy stood, found her daughter instantly. "Well, mother," Daisy drew her cape of sables about her shoulders and, moulding her features into a welcoming smile--which, when facing Lovina Nixon, required an effort--stepped forward. The mother's chin came out. Her eyes drew to button-like points. There was nothing maternal about the look. It was merely a glance which bespoke ill-expectation gratified. "John!" she chirped, to the stepfather, who had meandered on, "here!" John Nixon turned and came back. His brows knitted as he glanced from his wife to the girl in her splendid furs; then, as his eyes travelled to Daisy's face, he gave vent to an expression which sounded like, "Ur-rh!" "Look at this!" said Lovina Nixon; catching an end of the sable cape, holding it up for her husband's scrutiny, and then tossing it from her and making a motion of dusting off her hands; "You know what that means, I s'pose, John?" "Ay," said John Nixon, "ay-hay." "Disgraced!" said Lovina Nixon; "Disgraced! Oh, you--you thing! Just wait till I get you home! Just you wait!" Daisy's cheeks warmed at this. But, a moment after, her indignation changed to an impulse of roguery: she would let these two, for the present, believe the things they thought! "I s'pose you can show us a respectable hotel," said her mother. "But remember--you don't get out of my sight again. You stay right with me in the hotel, till we leave town. Carry this valise for me."