"Oh! at another time it would be delightful," she said.

"But don't you want a guinea very badly now? Don't you think you had better put on your hat and come away with me, and try to earn it?"

"I will," said Jasmine, with sudden enthusiasm. "Oh, Mr. Noel, how good you are! How I wish I had a brother, and that you were he!"

Noel took Jasmine to his friend's house, where the little girl began by being almost frightened, but soon forgot herself in the strong interest of her pleasant work. Noel was right when he said Jasmine had true artistic instincts. Certainly, hers was untaught genius, but her unerring taste came to her aid, and Mrs. Daintree's dinner-table never looked prettier or fresher than when the little maiden had completed her work. The room was bright and sunny, but Jasmine gave the table a bower-like and cool effect, and she not only dressed the dinner-table but placed flowers here and there about the room. Mrs. Daintree was delighted, and asked the pretty little girl to come again to arrange a dinner-table for her the following week.

With her golden sovereign and her shilling tucked tightly away in her glove Jasmine did not feel altogether miserable as she went home; even though Daisy might still be lost, those first earnings were sweet. She rushed upstairs and told her tale to Poppy, who sympathized most warmly with her. Very soon after her arrival a four-wheeler was heard to draw up to the door, and Mrs. Dredge alone returned.

"I have left Primrose at Rosebury," she said; "we have made inquiries, and there is no doubt a child resembling Daisy went down by the night train yesterday. We have searched high and low, however, but cannot at present get any trace of her. Don't look so pale, Jasmine, she must soon be found. Primrose is staying with Miss Martineau, and they are not leaving a stone unturned to find her. Most likely they have done so by now. Don't cry, Jasmine; take example by your sister--she's a fine plucky bit of a la.s.s, and does not waste her time in tears when there's something to be done."

"Yes, that's just it," said Jasmine; Primrose has got something to do, but I haven't--I can do nothing to find my little darling! Oh, Mrs.

Dredge, are not you awfully frightened about her?"

"Tut, tut, my dear, not a bit of it! Of course, when a little la.s.s runs away all by herself there are most times difficulties in getting trace of her, but don't you be in a way, for they won't last long."

Poor little Jasmine sighed, and all her deep depression returned. She was soothed again, however, by the sight of Noel, who came in very soon afterwards. He said he had seen the Ellsworthys, and meant to go down to Rosebury by the night train.

"I'm pleased to hear it, young man," said Mrs. Dredge; "you're doing just what my Joshua would have approved of had he been alive. Even though Joshua was in the chandlery line he had a truly n.o.ble heart, and one of his mottoes was that the strong should help the weak, and if shoulders are made broad they should carry big burdens, so you go down to Rosebury, young man, and prosper in your work."

Noel smiled.

"I will certainly do my best," he said; "I quite agree with your husband's sentiments."

"Well, well, young man, Joshua would have liked to know you in his day. Dear, how stupid I am! but I didn't rightly catch your name. What are you pleased to call yourself, sir?"

"My name is Arthur Noel."

"Well, what a small world we live in; it was only to-day I heard talk of you. When Miss Primrose and I were down at Rosebury we came across a gentleman of the name of Danesfield, and he came straight up to Miss Primrose and said he had had a letter from you which he had not been able to answer, because he was away. He said a lot to Miss Primrose about the letter you wrote him; it seems that somebody must have stolen three five-pound notes, which Mr. Danesfield put into a closed envelope, and gave Miss Primrose for a kind of emergency fund when she left her home. The poor la.s.sie turned as white as a sheet when he talked to her. Well, young man, you look white enough yourself at the present moment, but I'll tell you, now, what has struck me, that whoever took the three five-pound notes helped himself or herself to that cheque of Miss Primrose's, and that poor little Daisy knows about it."

"I should not be the least surprised if you were right, Mrs. Dredge,"

answered Noel. "Well, I must go now if I want to catch my train.

Good-bye, Jasmine keep up your heart--expect good news soon, and get all the orders you can for dressing dinner-tables."

CHAPTER XLIII.

IN THE FIELD.

Poor little Daisy, very faint and tired, and with a feeling of almost despair in her little heart, presently crept through a gap in one of the hedges, and sat down on the gra.s.s in a large field. She was so foot-sore she could not walk another step; she was also terribly weak from long fasting, and as she now had no hope at all of bringing Primrose back her money, she felt disinclined to walk another step.

"I suppose I'll soon die," she said to herself. "I wonder if G.o.d will take me to heaven? I know I was very selfish about the dungeon. I might have gone to the dungeon, and dear Primrose would have had her money, and she and Jasmine would not have starved; but Mr. Dove did so terrify me I really had not courage. Please, dear Jesus, I had not courage. I'm only a very weak, frightened little girl, and I gave Mr.

Dove Primrose's money, and now I can't get it back from him, and I think my heart is broken. I know, Jesus, you are angry with me, but please don't go on being angry; please forgive me, for I am all alone now without Primrose and Jasmine, and I think I'll soon die, for I feel so very weak. I didn't tell a lie, either, Jesus; I never told any one about Mr. Dove and the sticky sweetmeats--no, though I am a coward about the dungeon, I would not go so far as to break my word. I often longed to tell the Prince, for I felt he would deliver me from the ogre, but I couldn't tell a lie even to be saved. Please, Jesus, forgive me for being such a cowardly little girl."

By this time the drizzling mist of the early morning had pa.s.sed away, the sun had come out, and the robins and thrushes in the hedge close to Daisy began to sing. They poured out full notes of thrilling sweetness and their music comforted the child, and she began to smile very faintly to herself, and to hope that as G.o.d had let the sun come out, and the birds sing, so He had forgiven her.

The poor little Pink began to mew loudly in her basket, and Daisy let her out of her prison, and when kitty rubbed her soft head against her little mistress's sleeve the child felt some fresh thrills of comfort.

She felt terribly disinclined to move, however, and was really more weak and exhausted than absolutely hungry. The day wore on, and the little girl and her cat remained unnoticed in their corner of the large field. There was a right of way through the field, and foot-pa.s.sengers came and went, but Daisy in her sombre little black dress failed to attract any attention. She was quite in the shade under her hedge-row, and it is to be doubted if any one saw her. At last from utter weariness she sank down on the ground and fell asleep.

The Pink curled herself up by her little mistress's side and slept also. It was then that the sun, slowly travelling across the heavens, found them out in their shady corner, and kissed them, and made p.u.s.s.y's soft little grey coat shine. The child and the cat were thus made visible, and attracted the attention of a woman who was walking across the field with a market-basket on her arm. She came up at once to examine the little group; then she bent down close, then she gave an exclamation half of horror, half of delight, and then she took the sleeping child up in her arms, and covered her with pa.s.sionate kisses.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE CAME UP TO EXAMINE THE LITTLE GROUP. Palace B]

"Oh! my own little Miss Daisy--my own little darling precious lamb!

And is it thus you have come back to your poor old Hannah again!"

Nothing could have comforted Daisy more under present circ.u.mstances than to find herself in her old nurse's arms. She quite gasped with the joy and relief, and putting up her little hand to Hannah's face, she stroked it fondly.

"Now, my darling, where have you come from? and what are you doing?

and--why, if that isn't the little Pink, I declare! Now, my pet, tell me, have you all three come back to Rosebury again?"

"No, Hannah, I'm the only one who has come back. Oh Hannah, will you please take me to our little cottage for a few hours--I should so like to die there--I was born there, wasn't I, Hannah?"

"Yes, love, but you're not going to die there, nor nowhere else. I can't take you back to the cottage, dearie, for it's let, and I'm not living there. I've a little bit of a place of my own in the village of Teckford and I keep a small shop, and don't do so bad. You must come home now with me, darling. Oh, yes, you must--not a word must you say against it; then, when you've rested, and have had some nice bread and milk, you shall tell old Hannah your story; and if so be as you're in any trouble, why, your old nurse Hannah will set her wits to work to find a way out of it. Now, my darling, I'm going to carry you to my cottage."

Daisy was certainly very weak. She tried to expostulate with Hannah--she tried to say that her one and only duty was to try and get tidings of Mrs. Ellsworthy's whereabouts, and then to follow her on foot if necessary; but if the little spirit was willing, the flesh was weak. The comfort of seeing her nurse again was too much for Daisy--the knowledge that those were the very arms which had carried her as a baby, and soothed her and tended her as a little child, was quite too cheering to be resisted. Daisy made a valiant effort to say "No," but instead, her lips formed a faint "Yes, Hannah, take me to your home," and then Hannah, who was a strongly-built woman, lifted the slight little girl in her arms, and carried her across the fields to her tiny cottage at Teckford. All the time, while she was being carried in those kind arms, Daisy kept repeating to herself, "I'll have some bread and milk, for I am a little hungry, and I'll rest for perhaps an hour, and then I'll go away on foot with my dear Pink to find Mrs. Ellsworthy."

But when the child and the woman reached the house in the village Daisy was too faint and weary to take more than a spoonful or two of bread and milk, and long before the night arrived she had forgotten that she meant to undertake any journey, and lay with burning cheeks and bright, feverish eyes on Hannah's bed in her little home.

CHAPTER XLIV.

TOO MUCH FOR DOVE.

Mrs. Dredge's remarks had by no means been lost on Noel. When he left Miss Egerton's house he consulted his watch, and found that he had still an hour to spare before he need try to catch his train. He thought for a moment or two, recalled certain expressions on Daisy's face, certain words which dropped from her lips, and, above all, a look which had filled her pretty eyes on the one and only occasion when they had met Dove together.

Noel began to feel more and more certain that this man, to whom he had taken a great dislike, had something to say to all the child's misery.

Noel knew, however, that suspicion in such a case would be of little avail--he must have certainty, and certainty could only be his by cautious and wary movements.

Again he consulted his watch, and now he determined on a bold course.

He remembered that the girls had once told him that Dove was a painter by trade, but that he seldom or never had anything to do. Noel was extremely fastidious, and, if possible, almost over-refined in the arrangements of his own home. He made his little plan with a sigh, but he would have done more than this for the sake of pretty little Daisy.

Walking quickly, he soon found himself at the Doves' address in Eden Street. His knock at the hall door was answered by Tommy Dove, who a.s.sured him that both his father and mother were having high tea with shrimps and watercresses in the back parlor.

Noel said he wanted to see Dove on business, and Tommy, remarking that the back parlor was as good a place as any other for this purpose, ushered the visitor in direct.

"I believe you are a painter," said Noel--"I have chambers at Westminster, and want to have my balcony and front windows painted.

I've heard of you through the Miss Mainwarings, and as I'm in a hurry to get the job completed at once, I have called round to know if you are disengaged."

"Of course you are, Dove," said his wife.

"Softly, my only love," replied her husband. "Sir, be pleased to take a seat. I shall be glad to do my best for you, and any recommendation from the young ladies you mention is most gratifying to me. Sweet young ladies they was, and ever will be--and my wife and me, we mourns unceasing for their departure."