ALMOST DEFEATED.
With the weight of her secret removed Daisy began slowly, very slowly,
to mend. The strain she had undergone had been too great for her
quickly to recover her strength; but little by little a faint color
did return to her white cheeks, she slept more peacefully, and began
to eat again.
"There's nothing at all for you to do, Miss Primrose," said Hannah,
"but to give up that post of continually screaming out book and
newspaper stuff to a deaf old lady."
"She isn't deaf, Hannah," interrupted Primrose. "She wants me to read
to her because her sight is very bad."
"Well, well," replied Hannah Martin, in a testy tone, "whether she's
deaf or whether she's blind, it ain't no way a fit post for you, Miss
Primrose. You've got to stay here now, and take care of that precious
little lamb, and you had better send for Miss Jasmine to keep you
company."
"I am certainly not going to leave Daisy at present," replied
Primrose. "I've got money enough to go on with, but I must go back to
town as soon as possible in order to earn enough to return Mr. Noel's
money to him. As to Jasmine, do you know, Hannah, she has got quite a
nice way of making a little income? You remember how cleverly she
always arranged the flowers in our drawing-room at dear Rosebury, and
how our mother always asked her to make bouquets for her? It now seems
that Jasmine has got rather remarkable taste, and some fine ladies in
London are employing her to arrange flowers on their dinner-tables.
They pay her very well indeed for this, and the labor is nothing at
all."
"Hoot!" said Hannah; "I think it's rather demeaning of herself. Well,
Miss Primrose, I suppose the poor dear will want a holiday the same as
the rest of you. To tell the truth, Miss Primrose, my old eyes ache to
see the darling, she was always such a bonny one."
Primrose smiled.
"When the fine ladies go out of town, Hannah, we will have Jasmine
down, and you shall squeeze us all into that nice, cosy little bedroom
of yours. What a good thing it was, Hannah; that you did not follow us
to London, but that you started this nice shop in the country, for
now we three girls can have our change in the country at such small
expense."
Tears started to Hannah's eyes.
"I've been always saving up for this, Miss Primrose, and if you will
talk of paying me at all, I'll never forgive you; aren't you my
nurslings, all three of you, and the only creatures I have got to live
for?"
In the meantime while things were mending for Primrose and Daisy, and
Daisy was beginning once more to get that soft pink in her cheeks
which gave her such a curious and touching likeness to her
name-flower, poor little Jasmine, left behind in her Palace Beautiful,
was not having quite so good a time.
Jasmine was beset by several worries and anxieties; she was also
extremely lonely, for Miss Egerton, owing to the dangerous illness of
a near relation, was still absent from home, and Poppy, driven by the
dire necessity of earning bread to eat, had been obliged to return, as
little maid-of-all-work, to Penelope Mansion.
Jasmine was alone, but she was a brave child, and her strong longing
now was to help Primrose, and above all things not to ask for any
money from her.
For the first few days after Primrose had gone to the country the poor
little girl's resources were very meagre indeed. She had thought that
first sovereign she had earned simply inexhaustible, but it was
surprising how it melted in her inexperienced grasp, and how very,
very little it seemed capable of purchasing.
In her first delight at finding herself capable of earning money she
had written an extravagantly hopeful letter to Primrose.
"You need not think at all of me, dear Primrose," she wrote; "keep all
the money you can collect to buy nice nourishing things for dear
little Daisy. Perhaps I shall become quite famous as an arranger of
flowers on great London dinner-tables. If I do get orders, and I think
I am sure of them, I shall not only be able to pay my own London
expenses, but will save something towards our emergency fund. Oh,
Primrose, my heart burns with longings to earn lots of money, and to
be great and strong and famous!"
This poor little enthusiastic letter reached Primrose when Daisy was
at her worst, and it so happened that it lightened her cares about the
little sister alone in London. She felt quite sure that Jasmine was
getting plenty of orders, and was earning sufficient money for her own
modest wants in the pretty way she spoke of; and in consequence she
did not send her any of the money which Daisy had returned to her.
But poor little Jasmine was not receiving orders so fast as Primrose
anticipated. One or two other ladies did ask her to dress their
dinner-tables for them, and one or two more promised to do so, and
then forgot all about it; but no one paid her as well as Mrs. Daintree
had done. Noel was out of town, and was unable to interest himself in
her behalf, and so it came to pass that the slender purse could not
supply the modest needs, and Jasmine was much too proud, and too
determined to help herself, to write to Primrose for money.
These were hard days for the little girl--days which were to prove the
stuff she was made of to the very uttermost--but doubtless they gave
her, as all anxious days of pain bravely borne do, a valuable
experience and a depth of character which she could not otherwise have
acquired.
The lesson she was to learn, however, was a painful one, and its
sharpness was to be felt very quickly.
Jasmine's hope of hopes lay in her beloved manuscript. That story, the
first-fruits of her young genius, must surely make her purse bulky,
and must wreathe her little brow with laurels. That story, too, was to
refund poor Poppy the money she had lent, and was to enable Jasmine to
live in comfort during her sister's absence.
One day, about ten days after Primrose had gone to Rosebury, Jasmine
stood by the windows of the Palace Beautiful to watch the postman. He
was coming up the street, and Jasmine greatly, greatly hoped he would
stop at Miss Egerton's and drop into the letter-box, perhaps, a letter
from Primrose, and more delightful still, a roll of proofs of her dear
story. The postman, however, passed on his way, and gave his loud
rat-tat at the doors to right and the doors to left, but neither
sounded the bell nor gave his double-knock at Miss Egerton's door.
Jasmine sighed deeply, and retiring from the window, sat down to her
frugal breakfast. She looked pale, and her eyes were not as bright and
starry as usual. Presently she took out her purse and looked at its
contents. This was Thursday. She had dressed a dinner-table on Monday,
and had received seven and sixpence. Her purse now contained three
shillings, and she certainly could not accuse herself of any
extravagance in the matter of diet.
"This will never do," she said to herself. "I believe if I do not get
any more money I shall be obliged to apply to Primrose, and it was
only last night I heard from dear old Rose saying how glad she was
that I was able to support myself. She said Daisy's illness had cost a
great deal, and we must all economize in every possible manner for
some time. Dear darling old Primrose, I will not ask her to help me--I
will manage for myself. Now how shall I do it? I am afraid those
ladies did not care for the star arrangement of flowers which I made
at that last house. I thought them lovely, peeping out through their
dark green leaves, but I heard Mrs. Lee whispering to Mrs. Mansell,
'How peculiar! _do_ you quite like it?' and then Mrs. Mansell said
nothing more about my dressing her dinner-table. Her dinner-party was
to have been to-day, and she _almost_ promised to have me when I
arrived in the morning. Well, there is no use thinking of that; I
cannot swell my purse in that manner this day, that is very evident.
Oh, dear! oh, dear! what shall I do?"
Here a sudden thought came to Jasmine. Under its influence her cheeks
flushed, and her eyes began to shine.
"Why, of course," she exclaimed; "how very silly of me to forget!--my
hundred copies of _The Joy-bell_ ought to have arrived by now. Yes, of
course they ought, and perhaps I shall be able to sell some of them. I
have no doubt Mrs. Dredge would buy a couple if Poppy asked her and
perhaps Mrs. Mortlock and Miss Slowcum would also like to see my first
story in print. Yes, of course, I can sell a few copies. Bridget said
she would buy one, and she said she had two cronies who would be sure
to take a copy each. Yes, I expect I shall make a few shillings by the
sale of _The Joy-bell_ to-day, and that will keep me going fine. Oh,
dear! the very moment I have earned a little money by them I must
send a copy down to Daisy. Won't the darling like to show my words of
genius to Primrose? I'll run downstairs this minute, and ask Bridget
if she has not got a parcel for me."
But alas! no _Joy-bells_ had arrived for Jasmine, and after the little
girl had wondered a great deal, and talked the matter over with
Bridget she determined to put on her hat and go off to consult with
Poppy.
She was not long finding her way to Penelope Mansion, and Poppy opened
the door for her, but greeted her in a sad voice, and looked decidedly
depressed.
"I have come about _The Joy-bell_" began Jasmine at once, in an
excited voice. "It ought to have come--my hundred copies, you know,
and they haven't. I must go to inquire about it at once; and, Poppy,
dear, could you come with me?"
Poppy turned very red.
"No, Miss Jasmine, darling, I couldn't," she said, in the meekest
voice.
Poppy's tones were so unlike those she usually employed that Jasmine
glanced at her in some surprise.
"Why, Poppy, how funny you are!" she exclaimed. "Is anything the
matter?"
"Don't you notice it, Miss Jasmine, but I'm a bit low-like," said
Poppy. "I has my low fits and my high fits same as t'other folks, and
this is a low fit day--that's all, miss."
"Oh! I am so sorry. Poor Poppy! And is the swimming in your head as
bad as ever?"
"It's continual, Miss Jasmine. It seems to have become a kind of
habit, same as the smuts and the Sarah Janes. A swimming head is most
certain the London style of head for a girl like me. Yes, I am sorry I
can't go with you, Miss Jasmine, darling, but I can't this morning. I
hope you will get safe to the City, miss, and that you will see the
editor, and give it to him sharp for not sending you your _Joy-bells_.
Oh, my, Miss Jasmine! to think that your beautiful words is in print
at last! Most likely the whole of London is flooded by them now, and
the editor will be asking you for more of your words of beauty and
wisdom. You make a sharp bargain with him, Miss Jasmine, and before
you put pen to paper again for him, you get your money down. There's
nothing so safe in clinching a bargain as money down. Oh, dear! I wish
I could go with you. And, Miss Jasmine, if you could find it
convenient to pay me back say one and sixpence of the little loan,
I'll be for ever obliged, darling."
At this moment Mrs. Flint's voice was heard calling Poppy, and
demanding who she was standing gossiping with. Mrs. Flint's voice
sounded quite sharp, and Jasmine guessed that something unusual must
have occurred to disturb her, for Mrs. Flint was known on principle
never to excite herself.
"What is the matter with her?" she inquired of Poppy, who flushed up
at her tones.
"Oh, nothing, miss. She's only a bit put out about the broken boots.
There, I must run."
Poppy almost shut the door in Jasmine's face. She was certainly very
unlike her usual self.
Jasmine walked down the steps of the Mansion, and slowly, very slowly,
went up the street to meet the omnibus which was to convey her
Citywards.
She was quite a clever little Londoner now, and knew which were the
right omnibuses to take, and, in short, how to find her way about
town. She hailed the City omnibus, and hastily and humbly took her
place amongst its crowded passengers. She was the unlucky twelfth, and
her advent was certainly not hailed with delight. The bright morning
had turned to rain, and the passengers, most of them women, were
wrapped up in waterproof cloaks. Jasmine, when she entered the
omnibus, looked so small, so timid, and unimportant, that no one
thought it worth while even to move for her, and at last she was
thankful to get a little pin-point of room between two very buxom
ladies, who both almost in the same breath desired her not to crowd
them, and both also fiercely requested her to keep her wet dress from
touching their waterproofs.
At another time Jasmine would have been quite spirited enough to
resent the unfriendly behavior of the inmates of the City 'bus; but
her interview with Poppy had depressed her greatly, and she had a kind
of terrified little fear that she knew the reason of Mrs. Flint's
sharp tones, that she could guess why Poppy's bright face should look
so dismal, and why she was obliged so earnestly to beg of her to
return her one and sixpence.
"She wants her own money--her wages, that she earned with a swimming
head and all," thought poor Jasmine. "How selfish of me not to
remember before that of course, poor Poppy would want her wages; it is
perfectly dreadful to think of her doing without them. Why, of course,
Mrs. Flint would be likely to scold her if she went about with her
ragged boots when she earns such good wages. Poor, dear, brave Poppy!
she would never tell what she did with her money. Well, she must have
it all back to-day. Yes, I am determined about that, she shall have it
back, to-day."
Jasmine was thinking so hard, and so absorbing was her theme, that she
leaned unconsciously against the fat neighbor on her right. This good
person immediately pushed her with some vigor into the arms of the
portly neighbor on her left, who exclaimed, in a cross voice--
"Lor' sakes! my dear, sit upright, do."
"I hope the young person will soon get out," exclaimed the other
neighbor. "I call it downright unconscionable to crowd up Christian
women like this. Might I make bold to inquire, miss, when you are
thinking of alighting?"
"I am going to Paternoster Row," said Jasmine, in a meek voice. "I do
not think I am very far from there now."
"Oh, no, miss! we have only to go down Newgate Street, and there you
are. It's a queer place, is Paternoster Row, not that I knows much
about it."
"A mighty bookish place," took up the other neighbor "they say they
are all bookworms that live there, and that they are as dry as bits of
parchment. I shouldn't say that a bright little miss like you had any
call to go near such a place."
Jasmine drew herself up, and her face became sunshiny once more.
"You would not think," she began, with an air of modest pride, "that I
belong to the booky and the parchmenty people, but I do. I am going
down the Row to inquire about one of my publications, perhaps I ought
to say my first, so I am anxious about it."
"Lor', who would have thought it!" exclaimed both the ladies, but they
instantly fell back and seemed to think it better to leave so
alarmedly learned a little girl alone. For the remainder of the ride
they talked across Jasmine about the price of onions, and where the
cheapest bacon was to be purchased, and they both breathed a sigh of
relief when she stepped out into the rain and they could once more
expand themselves in the space which she had occupied.
Meanwhile the forlorn little adventurer walked down the narrow path of
this celebrated Row. It was still raining heavily, and Jasmine's
umbrella had several rents in its canopy. Now that she was so close to
her destination she began to feel strangely nervous, and many fears
hitherto unknown beset her. Suppose, after all, _The Joy-bell_ which
contained the first portion of her story had not had a large success;
suppose, after all, the public were not so delighted with her flowing
words. Perhaps the editor would receive her very coldly, and would
tell her what a loss her story had been, and how indisposed he felt to
go on with it. If this was the case she never, never would have
courage to ask him to give her Poppy's wages. If the editor scolded
her she felt that she would be incapable of saying a word in her own
defence. Nay, she thought it extremely probable that then and there
she would burst into tears. Undoubtedly, she was in a very low frame
of mind to-day. She, as well as Poppy, had her low fit on, and she
greatly trembled for the result of the coming interview. Since that
pathetic little last speech of Poppy's about her broken boots Jasmine
had quite forgotten how sorely she needed money for herself. Her one
and only desire just now was to restore Poppy's money.
"I must do it," she said to herself; "I must do it, and I will. I have
made up my mind, and I really need not be so frightened. After all,
Poppy and Daisy are both quite sure that I am a genius. Daisy says
that I have got the face of a genius, and Poppy was in such great,
great delight at my story. It is not likely that they would both be
wrong, and Poppy is a person of great discernment. I must cheer up and
believe what they told me. I daresay Poppy is right, and London is
half-flooded with my story. Ah, here I am at the entrance of the court
where the editor of _The Joy-bell_ lives. How funny it is to be here
all alone. I really feel quite like a heroine. Now I am at the
office--how queer, how very queer--I do not see any _Joy-bells_
pressed up against the window. No, not a single one; there are lots of
other books and papers, but no _Joy-bells_. Dear, dear! my heart does
beat, for I am thinking that perhaps Poppy is right, and that all the
copies of _The Joy-bells_ are bought up; that, of course, is on
account of my story." Then Jasmine entered the house, and went into a
little office where a red-haired boy was sitting on a high stool
before a dirty-looking desk. The boy had a facetious and rather
unpleasant face, and was certainly not remarkable for good manners.
"I want to see the editor of _The Joy-bell_," asked Jasmine, in as
firm a tone as she could command.
The red-haired boy raised his eyes from a huge ledger which he was
pretending to occupy himself over, and said, "Can't see him," in a
laconic tone, and dropped his eyes again.
"But why?" asked Jasmine, somewhat indignantly. "I have particular
business with him; it is most necessary that I should see him. Pray,
let him know that I am here."
"Very sorry," replied the boy, "but can't."
"Why not?"
"'Cause he ain't in town."
"Oh!"
Poor Jasmine fell back a pace or two; then she resumed in a different
tone--
"I am very much disappointed; there is a story of mine in _The
Joy-bell_, and I wanted to speak to him about it. It was very
important, indeed," she added, in so sad a voice that the red-haired
boy gazed at her in some astonishment.
"My word," he said, "then you do not know?"
"Don't know what?"
"Why, we has had a funeral here."
"A funeral--oh, dear! oh, dear! is the editor of _The Joy-bell_ dead?"
Here the red-haired boy burst into a peal of irrepressible laughter.
"Dead! he ain't dead, but _The Joy-bell_ is; we had her funeral last
week."
Poor Jasmine staggered against the wall, and her pretty face became
ghastly white.
"Oh, boy," she said, "do tell me about it; how can _The Joy-bell_ be
dead, and have a funeral? Oh, please, don't jest with me, for it's so
important."
The genuine distress in her tones touched at last some vulnerable
point in the facetious office-boy's breast.
"I'm real sorry for you, miss," he said, "particular as you seems so
cut up; but what I tell you is true, and you had better know it. That
editor has gone, and _The Joy-bell_ is decently interred. I was at her
birth, and I was at her funeral. She had a short life, and was never
up to much. I never guessed she'd hold out as long as she did; but the
editor was a cute one, and for a time he bamboozled his authors, and
managed to live on them. Yes, _The Joy-bell_ is in her quiet grave at
last, and can't do no more harm to nobody. Lor', miss, I wouldn't
take on if I was you, you'd soon get accustomed to it if you had a
desk at an office like this. In at the births, and in at the deaths am
I, and I don't make no count of one or t'other. Why, now, there was
_The Stranger_--which went in for pictorial get up, and was truly
elegant--it only lasted six months; and there was _The Ocean Wave_,
which did not even live as long. And there was _Merrie Lassie_--oh,
their names is legion. We'll have another started in no time. So you
must be going, miss? Well, good morning. If I was you, miss, I
wouldn't send no more stories to this yere office."