Lost in London

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Little Daisy was the joy of Dr. Westbury and his wife. Therefore, a little accident that had befallen Daisy was the matter of chief concern in their lives at that moment. The Doctor telephoned his regrets to a clinic so that he may attach in criss-cross fashion two oblong plasters on the left temple of the little patient, who while romping had fallen and cut her forehead on a pebble. The mother abandoned a reception she had planned. And then, to compensate little Daisy for the ordeal so nobly borne, the parents sent her forth to revel again, cautioning the nurse to guard well against further harm, as they went motoring. Corporal Jenkins passed the big iron grillwork portals of the Westbury estate, and Nora opened the gates to speak with her lover. Daisy, finding the open gate, set forth to explore the world. Consternation prevailed when the Westburys returned and the nurse told her story between heartbroken sobs. The police could not trace the baby. There was good reason for their failure. The child, wandering into Covent Garden Market, had struck up an acquaintance with little Charlie Brooks, who was about her size, and found her to be a capital playfellow. When Charlie recalled the errand his mother had sent him on and started homeward, he took little Daisy by the hand and, as if that were a perfectly legitimate thing to do, led her into the alley of tenements on which fronted the parental roof. Mrs. Brooks' heart was touched at sight of the little waif, and added her to her family. Later, when she had outgrown rompers, Daisy was set to selling flowers in Piccadilly Circus. Charlie, who also was assisting in the family upkeep, one day peddled bills for a theater manager, receiving as remuneration a ticket admitting two. His first thought was of Daisy, for whom he had developed a real brotherly affection. So the two, big-eyed with wonder, had their first glimpse of the inside of a theater that night. But their unwonted good fortune had an evil sequel when, returning late, they faced the irate father, who forbade both the threshold, when Charlie defended Daisy from violence. Daisy recalled that an artist chap, Anderson by name, had given her his address one day on Piccadilly Circus, pressing her to come to his studio to pose for a painting. So Daisy entered his employ, while Charlie, assured of her being provided for, set out to shift for himself. Daisy, however, remained only long enough to discover that she had fallen in love with the artist. She, being poor and without education, ceded the field to the wealthy and cultured Olga Westbury, when the latter came into Anderson's graces. Little did she dream that her rival was her sister. Daisy had convinced Stamford, manager-friend of Anderson's, that she had talent for dancing on one of the former's visits, so when Stamford found her determined not to return to Anderson, he engaged her as a dancer. Daisy's rise in her profession was fast. One night Anderson saw her from a box, reaping encore after encore. He could not refrain from calling on her, and soon they discovered that they had loved each other right along, and became engaged. But Olga, already angered at Anderson's preference for a dancer, saw her one night at a café in company with her brother, and Olga, of course, could not know it was her brother, and anonymously warned Anderson that his intended was faithless. Anderson sought proof, and got the kind that had sufficed Olga. He broke the engagement. Daisy, returning disconsolate from a futile attempt to see and explain to Anderson, was knocked down by an auto. Dr. Westbury, who treated her, seeing the scar and the medallion she had carried about her neck through all the years, recognized in her the long-lost baby-daughter, now a lassie of seventeen. Mother and younger daughter are 'phoned for, and a tearful reunion followed. Of course, Olga, repentant, immediately telegraphed Anderson, who was in the act of whooping it up in Paris in an effort to forget his disappointment in Daisy, and Anderson took the next steamer home to duly receive from the convalescent Daisy kisses of forgiveness. Foster brother Charles, now a prosperous businessman, was best man, of course, at the wedding that followed.