"I'm very sorry," began Primrose.

"Yes, dear, and it's an affliction which is likely to continue, and to grow heavier. It's poor Mrs. Mortlock, dear--I'm afraid she's losing her sight, and very troublesome she'll be, and a worry to us all when it's gone, for poor woman, she has a pa.s.sion for politics that's almost past bearing. Miss Slowc.u.m and me, we take turns to read her the papers now, but though our throats ache, and we're as hoa.r.s.e as ravens, we don't content her. Mrs. Mortlock is looking out for what she is pleased to call a 'continual reader,' dear, and what I'm thinking is that perhaps you or your sister would like to try for the post--I believe you'd suit her fine, and she can pay well, for she's fairly made of money."

Primrose colored. To read to Mrs. Mortlock was about the last occupation she would have chosen, but the thought of the purse at home which was getting so sadly light, and the feeling that after all her efforts she might never do much in the china-painting line, caused her to reflect anxiously.

"May I think about it and let you know, Mrs. Dredge?"

"No, no, my dear, not by any means, for she has advertised, and they are pouring in. Poor Sarah Susan is almost off her head answering the door to them. Stout readers and thin readers, old readers and young readers, they're all flying to the post, as if there were nothing in life so delightful as being 'continual reader' of politics to poor Mrs. Mortlock. She ought to have been suited long ago, but I've a strong hope that she isn't, for she's as fidgety and particular as if she were a countess. Your best chance, dear, is to come straight home with me--we'll see Mrs. Mortlock on the spur of the moment, and try and arrange it all."

In this way Primrose obtained her first situation, for Mrs. Mortlock was glad to feel her soft young hand, and her gentle and refined tones had an instant and soothing effect on the poor lady's irritable nerves.

"My dear," she said, "what with rasping voices, and piping voices, and droning voices, to say nothing of voices that were more like growls than anything else, I felt nearly demented. Yes, Miss Mainwaring, this is a sore affliction that has befallen me, and I knew there was nothing before me but the services of a 'continual reader,' for poor Mrs. Dredge, though she did her best, was decidedly thick in her utterance; and Miss Slowc.u.m, oh dear! the affectations of Miss Slowc.u.m were quite beyond me, besides our differing altogether in politics--me holding for Gladstone, and she fairly hating the poor man. You'll do very well, Miss Mainwaring, and I hope you'll study your papers well while you're at home, so that you may know what you are reading about, and read intelligent accordingly. I always like both sides of the question, which was my poor husband's habit, for he was a very intelligent man, Miss Mainwaring. And then I like my bit of gossip and my Court news. I adore my Queen, Miss Mainwaring, and it is a real _bona fide_ pleasure to learn when and where she drives abroad. You'll come, please, in the morning, and set to work at your continual reading. Salary, fifteen shillings a week certain. Now, now, you needn't hesitate at taking what I call a lofty salary, for it always was my way to pay down handsome. There now, that's settled. Shake hands, dear; good-bye till the morning. Sarah Maria, you needn't show up no more of the 'continual readers,' for I believe I have made a bargain with this young lady."

"Oh, Miss Primrose!" said poor Poppy, as she showed her out, "I am more than thankful that you are coming here, miss--that's for my sake, miss, though I'm dreadful afraid you'll suffer yourself. I'm awful afraid you'll get muddled in your head, miss, for as to mine, it has swam away long ago. I begin not to know in the least who I am, miss.

Poppy, why it ain't nowhere! only I'm Sarah, with all the other words in the dictionary tacked on to it. I don't mind it now; they say folks can get accustomed to anything, so I don't mind being Sarah, and everything else too, only it has a very swimming effect on the head, Miss Primrose. Oh, my darling young lady! do ask Miss Jasmine and Miss Daisy to let me come and see them."

"Yes, Poppy, you shall come and see us all again, if you will only keep our little secret, for just at present we don't want the people at home to know where we are; and remember, Poppy dear, that you are always Poppy to us three girls."

"I'll hold on to that," said poor Poppy, "when my head's fairly reeling. I'll clutch on to it, and hold firm. Poppy, which means a tare, I am, to my own dear young ladies. Oh dear! oh dear! they're calling me--it's Sarah Matilda this time. Good-bye until to-morrow, dear Miss Primrose."

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

JASMINE BEGINS TO SOAR.

When Primrose went home and told her sisters and Miss Egerton what she had done, Jasmine's eyes had grown first bright, and then misty.

"To be continual reader to Mrs. Mortlock!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Primrose, it is an act of self-denial to you--it is, isn't it? Own at once that you were very brave to do it, darling."

"I don't think so," said Primrose; "there may be a certain little amount of drudgery in it, and perhaps I would rather have orders to paint beautiful roses and lilies on china plates, but you see, Jasmine, this work has been sent to me--I think G.o.d sent it, and I must not refuse it because perhaps I would like something else better."

"That's bravely spoken, Primrose," said Miss Egerton who was sitting by, for she often spent odd half-hours with the girls. "Look at everything in the same spirit, my love; try to see G.o.d's hand in all the little events, and you will have a brave life and a happy one."

"And a successful, I hope," added Jasmine. "Miss Egerton, how awful it would be if we girls were to fail!"

"My Prince says," here interrupted Daisy, "that whenever we do a good thing and a right thing, we bring something fresh and lovely into our Palace Beautiful. Isn't it nice to think that dear old Primrose has done this?"

"The money, too, will be of great help," added Primrose. "Why, Jasmine, we may even be able to save a little."

Thus encouraged, Primrose commenced her duties, and though her throat ached--and she certainly found the continual reading of politics, interspersed with very sharp discussions on the part of Mrs. Mortlock, anything but agreeable--she did not give way.

Miss Egerton was pleased to see Primrose so bright, and was glad to know she was really earning something; and Jasmine and Daisy prepared the cheeriest welcomes possible for her evening after evening on her return.

Jasmine, however, by no means intended Primrose to be the only one who was to bring a.s.sistance to the household purse.

Jasmine knew that they had all come up to London on purpose to be educated, or to educate themselves, sufficiently to earn their livings. She considered that six months' experience of the ups and downs of London life might bear fruit in her case as well as in her sister's.

Jasmine was supposed to be having her style formed by Miss Egerton's daily tuitions, but Miss Egerton's words of encouragement over her pupil's productions were decidedly meagre; and Jasmine, though she loved her, had long ago confided to Daisy that she considered Miss Egerton's manner had a damping effect on enthusiasm.

One bitterly cold March day Jasmine had been sitting for hours scribbling away at her novel. Daisy petted the cat, looked over some well-known picture-books, and finally sank back into the recesses of one of the most comfortable chairs in the room and began to think about the Prince.

"Don't go to sleep, Daisy," called out Jasmine presently. "I'm coming over in a minute to consult you."

Nothing could possibly be more gratifying to Daisy than to know that Jasmine wished to ask her advice. She accordingly roused herself, ceased to think of the Prince, and said, in a very bright little voice--

"I'll help you the best I can, Jasmine."

"It's just this," said Jasmine, dashing down her pen on the top of her ma.n.u.script, and causing thereby a great blot--"it's just this, Daisy; I've got to do something, and you have got to help me."

"Oh, I'm sure if I can," said little Daisy, still in that slightly patronizing voice, for the little maid's head was almost turned by being thus appealed to. "Is it to sew on b.u.t.tons for you, Jasmine? for though I don't like sewing on b.u.t.tons, I'll do it, or even--even--I'll darn your stockings, dear Jasmine."

Jasmine laughed.

"It's nothing of that kind, Eyebright; it's something much, much more important. You know, Daisy, what we came up to London for--why, of course you know why we left all our dear friends, and are living in about the very dullest part of London--of course you know?"

"Was it?" said Daisy, looking dubious; "was it--I never could quite make out--because Primrose did not like Mrs. Ellsworthy?"

"Oh, you silly, silly little thing! What a dreadful thing to get into your head, Daisy-flower! I did think you knew why we came to town, and gave everything up, and made ourselves so miserable."

"We did make ourselves miserable," sighed Daisy, "and I had to take Mr. Dove for my friend. I like to have him for my friend, though. What was the reason, please, Jasmine?"

"We came to London for the glorious privilege of being independent,"

chanted Jasmine, in a majestic voice. "Daisy, I'm going to be it. I'm going to fling my shackles to the winds. I'm going to soar."

"It sounds lovely," said Daisy. "You always were a poet, Jasmine, and I suppose poets do talk like that; but how are you going to be independent, Jasmine?"

"I'm going to earn money, little woman. Miss Egerton has kept me in shackles. I've worn them patiently, but now I burst the bonds. Daisy, I have formed a little theory. I believe girls are sent into the world with a strong bias in a particular direction. You see, it always did seem to be meant that dear Primrose was to be a companion, or secretary, of some sort; for Mrs. Ellsworthy wanted her to be Mr.

Ellsworthy's secretary, and to write his letters for him. She would not be that, even though it was her bent, and now she's got to accept something far worse; for it really must be dreadful to be 'continual reader' to poor old Mrs. Mortlock. Now, Daisy, what I say is this--there's no use in wasting time or money looking after things which don't suit us. Primrose was meant to be a secretary or continual reader, and so she has to be one; and I have always been meant to belong to the rather higher order of novelist or poet, and there's no use in my being damped any longer by Miss Egerton. I don't mean to be conceited, but I know that I have got the flutterings of a poet's wings in my soul, and soar I must."

Jasmine looked very pretty while she was speaking, and little Daisy admired her high-flown words, and fully believed in her genius.

"Do soar, Jasmine, darling," she said; "I have not a notion how you are to do it, but do begin at once. It will make these rooms more than ever like a Palace Beautiful if you take to soaring in them."

"I've nearly finished my novel," said Jasmine; "and I've also written a poem. It is called the 'Flight of the Beautiful,' and is in seven parts. Each part would take up two or three pages of a magazine.

To-morrow, Daisy dear, I am going to take my novel and poem into the market. I shall offer them to the highest bidders. I won't send them by post, for I always notice in books that, when gifted authors send their contributions by post, they are declined with thanks, because they aren't read. I am going to take my own ma.n.u.scripts to the publishers, Daisy, and I shall propose to them to read aloud a few extracts."

"You can't be at all shy if you do that, Jasmine," said Daisy, looking in a rather awe-struck way at her sister.

"Shy?" echoed Jasmine. "If one feels it, one has only to get over it.

Is that the way to conquer difficulties, Daisy?--just to be baffled by a little nervous feeling. No, I really want to fill the purse, and I also wish to give the publishers what I am sure they must be always looking for; for I have looked in vain, month after month, in several magazines, and nowhere have I seen three or four pages of continual blank verse. I suppose they can't get it, poor things! but they will in my 'Flight of the Beautiful!'"

"_I_ think blank verse a little dull," said Daisy, softly, and half under her breath; but, when Jasmine frowned, she added hastily, "Of course you're splendidly brave, dear Jasmine; and who'll go with you to the publisher's when you do go?"

"I've been considering that," said Jasmine; "and I think I'll take Poppy. Poppy is to have a whole holiday on Tuesday next, because her quarter's wages are due, and I'll ask her to come with me. She'd enjoy it--Poppy would--and very likely in the evening I'll be able to tell you and Primrose that I've made my first success. Oh, how happy and how proud I shall be!"