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into his cart, hide under some old blankets and sneak a lift back to the city.’
    Daisy and Edith exchanged excited glances.
    â€˜He always leaves by noon and the race isn’t till three, so there’d be time to get to the track and see Phar Lap romp home.’ Harry crossed his arms and looked up at them, eyes shining.
    â€˜That’s a
wonderful
idea. Could I . . .  ?’ Daisy hardly dared to hope that Harry might let her be part of his plan. We’ll be like convicts escaping from prison! she thought.
    â€˜Well, I dunno,’ Harry said, scratching his nose. ‘Girls tend to muck everything up by getting all scared and hysterical.’
    Edith punched Harry’s arm. ‘What a lot of tosh,’ she said. ‘Daisy is as brave and clever as any boy – you’d be lucky to have her along.’
    Daisy nodded and chewed on the end of her plait as she imagined it. Harry
had
to say yes.
    â€˜Daisy Sanderson,’ a voice thundered from the other side of the room. ‘Did you not get enough dinner?’
    Daisy’s stomach lurched. ‘Err . . .  yes . . .  Miss Dunham,’ she said, turning around tentatively to face the angry Cottage Mother.
    â€˜Then why, pray tell, do you find it necessary to chew on your hair in such a disgusting manner?’ the woman demanded. She stood over Daisy and tapped her ruler menacingly against one palm. ‘Maybe we need to give you a haircut like we did for Miss Edith there?’
    Daisy stared at her friend in horror. That’s why her hair was so short and scruffy! That evil woman had chopped it all off. Edith ran a hand over her shorn head and looked down.
    Mean old crow, Daisy thought, and pulled back her shoulders to stare Miss Dunham directly in the face. ‘I’d be happy to have such a fashionable haircut as Edith’s,’ she said, her voice only shaking slightly. ‘It’s very pretty.’
    Edith shot her a grateful look.
    â€˜Besides,’ said Daisy thoughtfully, ‘it would be so much easier than having to deal with a tangled head of hair every day, don’t you think?’
    A small wave of giggles broke out around her as the children stared at the messy lump of hair on Miss Dunham’s head.
    â€˜Well, I never!’ Miss Dunham turned and stamped out of the room in anger.
    Daisy winked at Edith as the bell rang. Harry looked from one girl to the other. ‘Okay,’ he said as he gathered up the paper. ‘You’re in.’

T HE morning bell clanged loudly through the dormitory and Daisy could hear the groans and sighs of the girls around her as they dragged themselves out of their warm beds.
    â€˜Come on, get moving,’ Miss Dunham’s dull voice echoed through the room. ‘Those chores won’t do themselves, you know.’ She moved through the room rapping on the ends of the metal beds with her heavy ruler.
    Daisy yawned and sat up. The floorboards were cold beneath her bare feet. She ran to the washroom and then to her locker to get dressed. The routines of the orphanage were familiar to her now and she knew she had to be fast. Quick, quick, she thought to herself as she pulled on her boots and ran back to her bed to frantically pull the covers smooth and tuck the ugly brown blanket tightly into the corners.
    â€˜Time’s up,’ Miss Dunham bellowed, and each girl hastily stood at the end of her bed, waiting to be inspected.
    â€˜Too sloppy. Do it again or miss breakfast!’ Miss Dunham said, ripping the blanket off Molly Carter’s bed.
    Mean old hag, Daisy thought, and shot Molly a sympathetic look.
    â€˜Did you even wash?’ Miss Dunham sneered, peering into the scared face of Lucy O’Connor, who could only nod her head in response.
    â€˜I doubt it. Do it again!’
    As she drew closer, Daisy crossed her fingers behind her back for good luck.
    â€˜Nails!’ Miss Dunham