"I do hope I am a genius," she said; "I have always longed so to be one. If I really am, it will be all right about Poppy's money, for, of course, the public will try to buy my story. It's really rather a striking story, Daisy. There's a girl in it who does such wonderfully self-denying things--she never thinks of herself for a moment--she is very poor, and yet she earns money in all sorts of delightful ways, and supports her family--she has got two sisters--they are not half as clever as she is at earning money. The story begins by the sisters rather despising Juliet, but in the end they find out how much she is worth. The leading idea in the story is the inculcation of unselfishness--oh dear! oh dear! I hope I shall prove myself a genius in having developed this character. If so, I shall be able to pay Poppy back."

"There is something so beautiful in unselfishness," said Daisy, in a rather prim, moralizing little tone. "Do you know, Jasmine, that I was once going to be frightfully selfish?--I should have been but for the Prince, but he spoke to me; he made up a lovely little story, and he told me about the Palace Beautiful."

"I never can make out why you call these rooms the Palace Beautiful, Daisy," said Jasmine.

"It's because of the way they've been furnished," said Daisy. "They are full of Love, and Self-denial, and Goodness. I do so dearly like to think of it. I lie often on the sofa for hours, and make up stories about three fairies, whom I call by these names; they are quite playmates for me, and I talk to them. I often almost fancy they are real, but the strange thing is, Jasmine, they will only come to me when I have tried to be unselfish, and cheerful, and done my best to be bright and happy. Then Goodness comes, and makes the walls shine with his presence, and Self-denial makes my sofa so soft and easy, and Love gives me a nice view through the window, for I try to take an interest in all the men and women and little children who pa.s.s, and when I sit at the window and look at them through Love's gla.s.s you cannot think how nice they all seem. I told the Prince about it one day, and he said that was making a real Palace Beautiful out of our rooms."

Jasmine sighed.

"I hear Primrose's step," she said. "Oh, Daisy! you are a darling! how sweetly you think. I wonder if these rooms could ever come to mean a Palace Beautiful to me! I don't think fairies could come to me here, Daisy. I don't think I could see things through their eyes. I want my palace to be much larger and grander than this. Perhaps if I am a real genius it will come to me through my story; but, oh! I hope I did not do wrong in taking Poppy's money."

"No, for you are a genius," said little Daisy, kissing her affectionately.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

ENDORSING A CHEQUE.

Primrose's life was very busy at this time. Certainly nothing could be more irksome than the daily task of reading to poor Mrs. Mortlock, but the fifteen shillings a week which she now earned regularly was a wonderful help to the household purse, and Primrose performed her irksome duties with a cheerful, and even thankful heart. Her anxieties about Daisy were almost laid to rest. Since the child had been moved to Miss Egerton's house she seemed quite a changed creature. Her old cheerfulness and sweet calm were returning to her. Morning after morning she bade Primrose good-bye with a bright smile on her little face, and however long and dull her day was, she greeted her sister happily at night. What, therefore, was poor Primrose's consternation to find, on returning home the evening after Jasmine had made arrangements for the publication of her ma.n.u.script not only Jasmine, but Miss Egerton and Bridget all surrounding poor little Daisy, who lay on the sofa with a ghastly white face, and burst into nervous troubled weeping whenever she was spoken to.

"We found her in such a queer state," said Jasmine; but Miss Egerton held up a warning hand.

"Let it rest now, my dear," she said; "we need not go into the story in Daisy's presence; she wants perfect quiet. Primrose, she has been longing so for you; will you sit down by her, and hold her hand?"

Daisy opened her eyes when she heard Primrose's name, and held up a hot little hand to her sister, who clasped it very firmly.

"I want to speak to you all by yourself, Primrose," she whispered.

"Please ask Jasmine, and Miss Egerton, and Bridget to go away. I want to say something most important to you."

"Leave us for a moment," said Primrose to the others; and Jasmine went down with Miss Egerton to the sitting-room.

The moment Daisy found herself quite alone with Primrose she raised her head, ceased crying, and looked at her sister with bright feverish eyes, and cheeks that burned.

"Primrose," she said, "would you think it very, very wrong of me if I did something that wasn't in itself the very best thing to do, but something that I had to do to prevent a dreadful ogre putting me down into a dark dungeon? Would it be very wrong of me to do a very little thing to prevent it, Primrose?"

"My darling," said Primrose, "your poor little head must be wandering.

I don't understand what you mean, my dear little one. Of course it would be only right of you to keep away from an ogre, and not to allow one to touch you--but there are no ogres. Daisy love--there never were such creatures. You need not make yourself unhappy about beings that never existed. The fact is, Daisy, you are too much alone, and your little head has got quite full of the idea of fairies. I must ask Mr.

Noel not to talk to you in so fanciful a manner."

"Oh don't, Primrose, for it is my one and only comfort. Oh! I am glad you think I ought to keep out of the ogre's power. He is a dreadful, dreadful ogre, and he has tried to get into the Palace, and I am awfully afraid of him."

Then Daisy laughed quite strangely, and said, in a wistful little voice--

"Of course, Primrose, this is only fairy-talk. I always was fond of fairies, wasn't I? Primrose, darling, I want you to do a little thing for me, will you?"

"Of course, Daisy. Why, how you are trembling, dear!"

"Hold my hand," said Daisy, "and let me put my head on your shoulder.

Now I'll ask you about the little thing, Primrose; there's your letter from Mr. Danesfield on the table."

"Has it come?" said Primrose; "I am glad. I expected it yesterday morning."

"It's on the table," repeated Daisy. "Will you open it, Primrose? I'd like to see what's inside."

"Oh, there'll be nothing very pretty inside, darling; it is probably a postal order for our quarter's money."

"Yes, but let me see it, Primrose."

Primrose moved slowly to the table, took up the letter, and opened it.

"It's just as I said, Daisy," she remarked, "only, no--it's not a postal order, it's a cheque. I must write my name on the back, and take it to the Metropolitan Bank to cash to-morrow."

"Let me see you writing your name on the back, please, Primrose," said Daisy, in a queer, constrained little voice.

Primrose smiled to herself at the child's caprice but, taking up a pen, she put her signature across the back of the cheque.

"May I take it in my hand, Primrose?" said Daisy. "Oh, thank you! My hand shakes, doesn't it? but that's because I'm so dreadfully subject to starts. Isn't it funny, Primrose, to think that this little paper should mean a lot of golden sovereigns? Doesn't it make you feel rich to have it, Primrose?"

"It makes me feel that with it and the help of my weekly salary we shall be able to pay for our bread and b.u.t.ter, Daisy."

Daisy turned ghastly white.

"Oh, yes," she said, "oh, yes, dear Primrose. Will you put the cheque back into the envelope, and may I sleep with it under my pillow? I'll stay so quiet and still, and I'll not start at all if I have the cheque that you have signed under my pillow."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

DAISY'S REQUEST.

Primrose was so anxious to soothe Daisy that she allowed her without a moment's hesitation to have her way. The moment the child felt her hot little fingers clasping the letter with its precious enclosure she became quiet, and ceased to speak. Primrose had undressed her, and placed her in bed, and she now turned her back on her sister, and still clasping the letter tightly, closed her eyes. Primrose hoped she was asleep, and went softly out of the room to talk over matters with Jasmine and Miss Egerton. Miss Egerton could throw no light on the subject of Daisy's queer attack, and when Primrose at last went to bed she had to own that her anxieties with regard to her little sister had returned.

The next morning she was obliged to leave earlier than usual, and rather to Daisy's astonishment, and very much to her relief, said nothing about Mr. Danesfield's letter. Primrose had not forgotten the letter, but she knew she would not be able to go to the bank that day, and she thought it would comfort Daisy to take care of it.

"Jasmine," she said to her second sister, "must you go out this morning? I think it is hardly well to leave Daisy alone."

Jasmine's face clouded over.

"Have you forgotten, Primrose, that Miss Egerton and Mr. Noel were to take me to South Kensington Museum to-day? They arranged that I should go with them quite a week ago, and it would never do to put them off again now. I'll tell you what I'll do, Primrose; I'll take Daisy too; I'll see that she is not over tired, and Mr. Noel will take great care of her; they are very fond of each other."

"Try to arrange it so, then, Jasmine," said Primrose; "for I do not feel happy about her being left."

Primrose went away to spend her day as usual with Mrs. Mortlock, and sat down to her "continual reading" with a heavy heart.