_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 nobody,
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 glass. I think it's mostly
done with a rise of the eyebrows, but I never can keep mine up long
enough."
Jasmine laughed.
"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 pass, and
when I sit at the window and look at them through Love's glass 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.