He very quickly made up his mind to pay a visit that very day to the girls' new rooms in Miss Egerton's house. He made an excuse to get away from his companions, and then, walking quickly in the direction of Miss Egerton's house, he took his bearings carefully. At this hour Miss Egerton was busy with her school and Bridget was employed in the kitchen. He might do what he liked, therefore, in that part of the house which the girls called the Palace Beautiful. He knew a way by which he could get on the roof--from the roof there was an easy entrance to the girls' rooms. By the time Jasmine, Daisy, and Poppy were joyously driving towards the city Dove had taken possession of their nice bright rooms. When he got in he locked the outer door, and then he felt quite comfortable, and at leisure to look around him.

The first thing he saw was the letter directed to Primrose on the sitting-room table. He took it up, and examined it closely. He could spell out--for he was by no means a proficient reader--the word Rosebury on one of the post-marks; that was enough for him; the letter was tucked neatly into his pocket, and then he went round the room in search of fresh spoil.

He found very little, for the Palace Beautiful showed none of its charms to his eyes; in Dove's opinion it was a poor sort of place--clean, certainly, but what of that? Dove considered that cleanliness meant poverty. Dove's tastes lay in the direction of rooms thickly carpeted; he liked two or three carpets, one on the top of the other, on a floor; he liked the rooms to be well crowded with furniture--furniture of the good old mahogany type, heavy and dark--and the windows draped with thick merino. A room so furnished would, as Dove expressed it, look solid, and mean a heavy purse, and perhaps a nice little nest-egg laid by tidily in one of the drawers or bureaus. Such a room would be very interesting to examine, but this sitting-room, with its crimson drugget, and its white flooring, its one or two choice engravings on the walls, and its little book-case filled with good and valuable books, was, Dove considered, very shabby indeed. He found nothing more worth taking, and having given the Pink a kick by way of a parting blessing, he left the room, made his exit again by the roof, and so departed unperceived. He had Primrose's letter in his pocket, and he thought himself very lucky to have so nicely secured her quarter's allowance. He returned to his own house in Eden Street, and in the privacy of his back parlor opened Mr.

Danesfield's letter. It was a short letter, and, as it happened was not written by Mr. Danesfield at all. Dove, however, by patient spelling and peering, presently mastered its contents.

"The Bank, "High Street, Rosebury, "April 21.

"MADAM,

"In Mr. Danesfield's absence, I send you a cheque for 17 10_s._, according to his orders. The cheque will require your signature at the back, and if you will kindly sign it you, or any one else, can obtain cash for the amount at the Metropolitan Bank, Strand.

"I expect Mr. Danesfield home in about six weeks; he has been wintering abroad.

"Yours faithfully, "JOHN DAVIS."

Dove took the greater part of an hour to make this letter out; next he fingered the cheque, turning it backwards and forwards; then his face grew very blank--for, unsigned, that cheque was valueless. He was a violent man, and he uttered some strong expressions, and his wife, on hearing them, took good care to keep out of his way. She could not make out why Dove sat so long in the back parlor, and why he refused to eat his dinner, which was very hot and tasty. After a time, with a sigh of relief, she heard him go out.

Dove had hastily fastened up the letter, trusting to no one's noticing that it had been opened. Again he reached Miss Egerton's house; again he made his way from the roof to the upper landing, and from the upper landing to the girls' rooms; the letter was not placed on the table, but was skilfully slipped down between some books which lay in a pile on Jasmine's little writing-table. It might have been put there by any one who was dusting the room, and it might have lain in its present position unseen for many days. Dove hoped no one would perceive it; he scowled at the poor little Pink, who crouched away from him, and turning on his heel again, left the room.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

_THE JOY-BELL_.

It is to be feared that Poppy stole away from her work that morning.

Poor Poppy was getting into a sadly defiant mood. She was getting thoroughly tired of her aunt, Mrs. Flint, and when Jasmine appeared and said a few coaxing words the naughty girl left her work undone, disregarded the many cries for Sarah Ann and Sarah Maria, and putting on her brilliant hat and her smart jacket, sallied forth citywards with Jasmine and Daisy. In due time the three reached the office of _The Joy-bell_ and were admitted into the presence of the editor.

"You musn't let me accept too low terms, Poppy," said Jasmine, as they were going in at the door.

Poppy nodded very brightly in reply, and Jasmine took the seat the editor offered her with a certain little air of modest elation.

"I got your note," she began, "and I thought you'd like to see me immediately, so I came. This is my sister; she knows all about it; she's in the story herself. I've drawn all my characters from the life; and my friend, Poppy Jenkins--you saw her a fortnight ago--she's in the book too."

The editor--Mr. Potter was his name--had a habit of waving his hand when anything that he considered superfluous was being said; he now waved both Daisy and Poppy into the background, and addressed himself to Jasmine in a style which, as she said afterwards, riveted her attention on the spot.

"I wrote to you, Miss Mainwaring," he said, "because I saw germs of promise in your composition--it is young, of course, for you are very young, but it is fresh, and with due correctness, which I myself am willing to supply, I do not see why 'The Pursuit of Happiness' should not appear in our journal. We publish, however, only under certain conditions, and before I make any offer for your writings I should like to know whether you are able to fulfil them."

"That sounds in the nature of a bargain," here burst from Poppy's lips. "Now, Miss Jasmine, please will you listen very sharp, and see what the gentleman is after? Bargains seem to me to be all in favor of them that makes them. Aunt Flint made a bargain with me, and, oh my! I thought it good enough to leave the country and come up to a town whose name is wanity. Nothing have I got, Miss Jasmine, from my share of the bargain but a swimming head and the name of Sarah!"

"If this young person will cease to interrupt us," proceeded the editor, in his blandest tones.

"Oh, yes; Poppy, please stop talking," said Jasmine. "I beg your pardon, sir; I only wanted Poppy to help me when we came to terms. We have not come to the money part yet, dear Poppy. Yes, sir, I am most anxious to listen to you."

"Well, Miss Mainwaring, the facts are these--yes, I fear it is a question of money, after all. _The Joy-bell_ is a new magazine; we are most anxious to extend its circulation by every means in our power. We have hit on what we consider a novel, but effective expedient. Each contributor to our pages is expected to subscribe for a hundred copies per month of our magazine--these copies he is asked to disseminate as widely as possible amongst his friends. The magazine is only sixpence a month. Of course you get your friends to take the copies off your hands. Your story will, I think, run for six months--you are really put to no expense, for, of course, you must know a hundred people who will gladly take a magazine in which you appear. Thus you gain the advantage of having your story widely read and published not at your own expense."

"But please--" began Jasmine.

"If I might speak who am brought here for the purpose," here burst from Poppy, "what pay is the young lady to have for the words of genius that she has wrote upon the paper? Yes, Miss Jasmine, you said I was to let my voice be heard here--I'm not afraid, not of n.o.body, and here, I puts down my foot, and I says, 'What's the pay?'"

"The pay?" echoed the editor. "Surely the young lady does not expect to be paid for anything so very amateur--no, she cannot expect to be paid in money--in another way she is paid, and largely; she obtains a reputation, and what immature talent she has is brought to the fore! I am afraid, Miss Mainwaring, I must not take up any more of your valuable time--I think I have explained myself quite clearly--do you accept my offer? If you are willing to become a subscriber for one hundred copies monthly of _The Joy-bell_ your story shall appear; if not, I must return you your MS. with regret."

Poor Jasmine's white little face grew piteous.

"Oh, Poppy!" she began.

"Do you want it, Miss Jasmine?" said Poppy. "I calls it a cheat; but do you want it?"

"Oh, dear Poppy, I thought my words would look so lovely in Print--I am disappointed!"

"Then you shan't be, Miss Jasmine, darling. Here, sir, you're another of the Aunt Flint tribe, but my darling Miss Jasmine shall not look as she does now if I can prevent it. Please, sir, will you look in this here little purse given to you by the honest hand of toil, and see if it contains the price of a hundred of those nasty _Joy-bells_.

There's my three months' wage in that purse, sir, so I expect it will prove sufficient."

The editor opened the little purse gingerly.

"Do you wish your friend to subscribe for you?" he asked, looking at Jasmine. "I will allow you to have the first instalment at a reduction. The full price for a hundred copies of _The Joy-bell_ at sixpence a copy will be, of course, fifty shillings. On this occasion you shall have these delivered to you at your residence for forty-five shillings."

"It's in the purse, sir," said Poppy, with an air of modest pride.

"Forty-five shillings, and fifteen shillings over, for my wage with Aunt Flint comes exactly to three pounds a quarter. The fifteen shillings will find me in boots and house shoes, Miss Jasmine; and as my 'at is fresh trimmed, and I have enough cotton dresses to go on with, you are more than welcome to the two pound five."

"We will arrange it so, then," said the editor. "Miss Mainwaring, you must give me your address, and you shall receive proofs in a day or two. This sum of money provides for the appearance of the first instalment of your story. From the sale of the hundred copies you will be provided with funds for the second instalment, and so on."

"But how am I to pay Poppy back if I must give you the money that I get for the magazines?" asked Jasmine, her face becoming more crimson each moment.

"Ah! that," said the editor, with a slightly sarcastic smile, "that is surely not my affair."

After this a few comparatively trivial arrangements were made. Jasmine gave the address of the Palace Beautiful to Mr. Potter, and walked downstairs, feeling excited, pleased, and disappointed.

"Oh, Poppy!" she said, "how light, how very light your purse is."

"No, Miss Jasmine," answered Poppy, "you're out altogether there, for fifteen shillings in silver weighs more than three pounds in gold.

It's my heart, not my purse, that's light, Miss Jasmine--it has done me a sight of good to help you, Miss Jasmine; I know he is a cheat in there, but never mind, when your pretty, beautiful tale appears there'll be a run on it, I think, and that _Joy-bell_ will be asked for high and low. You'll pay me back, never fear, and I'll be real proud to my dying day to feel that I was the first to help you."

That evening, as Jasmine and Daisy sat together waiting for Primrose to return, Daisy said suddenly--

"Did you soar to-day, Jasmine, when you took Poppy's wages to have your story printed?--was that what you call a soaring flight?"

Daisy spoke innocently, and with real desire for information, but at her words Jasmine covered her face and burst into tears.

"What a cruel remark, Eyebright," she said. "Do you know I'm quite miserable about this; I've been getting more and more wretched ever since I left that man's office. Suppose, Daisy, I don't sell a hundred copies of _The Joy-bell_; then I shall never be able to have any more of my story printed, and I shall never have it in my power to pay Poppy back. I think I must have yielded to temptation that time; perhaps I'm nothing but a vain little girl, and think myself cleverer than I am."

"Oh, I'm sure you're a genius, Jasmine," said Daisy. "I know, for I have studied your face a great deal; in the story-books I generally notice that the geniuses have the same kind of face that you have--they generally have a little discontented, surprised look about them. I admire the expression very much myself, and sometimes when I'm alone--for you know you and Primrose have to leave me a good deal alone--I try to practice it before the gla.s.s. I think it's mostly done with a rise of the eyebrows, but I never can keep mine up long enough."

Jasmine laughed.