The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls by L. T. Meade (e reader .TXT) 📖

from morning to night. Primrose said they would spend a fortnight in the attics, and then the education which was by-and-by to lead to bread-winning must commence. Never did three more ignorant girls gird themselves for the fray. Primrose had a natural love for painting. She had none of the knowledge, none of the grounding, which is essential for real success in all departments of art in the present day; but she had a quick and correct eye for color, and all that Miss Martineau knew she had imparted to her. Primrose looked in at the shop windows, and saw the lovely painted china, and resolved to take lessons in this art. After some little difficulty, and after questioning first Mrs. Dove, and finally the much-dreaded Mr. Dove, she was directed to a teacher, who promised to instruct her at the rate of three pounds three shillings for twelve lessons. Primrose did not know whether her teacher was good or bad, or whether she was paying too much or too little—she resolved to take the lessons and to spend some of her little capital in buying the necessary materials.

"After I've had my twelve lessons Mr. Jones thinks I may begin to offer some of my plates and things for sale; he says he will be very glad to put them up in his own shop window. He thinks," continued Primrose with her sweet, grave smile, "that I may be able to recoup myself for the expense of learning at the end of a few months."

"And now," said Jasmine, "what am I to do? It's all settled for you, Primrose—you will be an artist—and you shall paint a breakfast set for our nest in your odd moments, and I'll buy it from you when my ship comes home. Oh! and we are both going to be very successful, are we not, darling? and we won't have any trouble at all in supporting our pet Daisy and her kitty-cat. You know, Primrose, my gifts lie in the poetic and novelistic line. I have really thought of a glowing plot for a story since I came to London, and Mr. Dove is to be the ruffian of the piece. I'll introduce Mrs. Dredge and poor Miss Slowcum too, and, of course, you'll be the heroine, my beautiful sister. I mean to buy some paper, and work away at my novel in the evenings next week; but as we have come up to London expressly to have our education perfected, and our gifts developed, don't you think I ought to be having some lessons in English style? After all, Primrose, I do not think Mrs. Flint's way of speaking was correct. Arthur Noel did not talk in the least like her, nor did dear Mrs. Ellsworthy; and after all, they are a real lady and gentleman. I wonder, Primrose, who would teach me proper style. I wish I could meet Arthur Noel again, that he might tell me!"

"Oh, Jasmine, it is dreadful of you to speak of a perfect stranger by his Christian name! Don't do it, dear—I know it is not right."

"He did not seem the least like a stranger," said Jasmine, pushing back her curling locks. "Well, Rose, who is to teach me style?—you see, if I am to earn money by my pen I must be polished up. I have got a poem now in the back of my head which would exactly suit the —— Review. It's almost exactly on the lines of one they published not long ago by Tennyson; but I'd rather not send it until I've had a lesson or two from some gifted person here—who shall I go to, Primrose?"

"You must go to a school, of course," answered Primrose. "There is a seminary for young ladies just round the corner—we will call there this afternoon, and find out if the lady can give you lessons."

Miss Egerton, the principal of the seminary in question, opened her eyes a good deal at Jasmine's modest request.

"I don't want French, nor German, nor music," quoth the young lady, "but I do want to be helped to make very smooth and flowing verses, and I want to have the plots of my novels cut up and criticised—for I don't mind telling you," continued Jasmine, looking full into Miss Egerton's deeply-lined and anxious face, "that I mean to live by my pen. My sister is to be an artist, and I am to be a novelist and poet."

Miss Egerton owned to herself afterwards that she had never met such extraordinary girls; but then they were so pretty, and so fresh, and the times were hard, and the High Schools were carrying off all her pupils, so though she knew little or nothing of making up verses or developing plots, she promised to receive Jasmine as a pupil, to direct her reading, and to help her to the best of her ability. She was a good and kind-hearted woman, and she made a further suggestion.

"What is to become of your little sister while you are both so busy, young ladies?" she said.

"Oh, Daisy promises to be very good," said Primrose with a tender smile at the little one. "Daisy will stay at home, and take care of the Pink, and she is learning to sew very nicely. When Daisy is good and stays quietly at home she helps our plan, and does as much for our cause as any of us."

Miss Egerton looked straight into Daisy's eyes. Long ago this dry and hard-looking old maid had a little sister like Daisy—a pretty little lass, who went away to play in the heavenly gardens many and many a year ago. For the sake of little Constance Miss Egerton felt a great kindness welling up in her heart towards Daisy Mainwaring.

"Your little sister must not stay at home by herself," she said. "She shall come to me. While I am teaching Miss Jasmine, Daisy can play or work as she pleases, only not by herself in your lodgings, young ladies, but in the room with her sister."

So it was arranged, and the three girls might fairly have been said to commence their work.

When Primrose had gone to Mr. Danesfield and asked him to allow her to draw their little capital out of his bank, he had made wonderfully few objections. Of all their friends, he was the one who had opposed Primrose's scheme the least, and perhaps for that reason she was more willing to take his advice, and to be guided by him, than by either Mrs. Ellsworthy or Miss Martineau. Mr. Danesfield had said to her: "My dear, you and your sisters are in some particulars in a very unique and unfortunate position. You are all three very young, yet you are absolutely your own mistresses. No one in all the world has any real control over you. If you ask me for your money, I cannot refuse you—I have absolutely no choice in the matter; the money is yours, and when you want it you must have it. Now I tell you plainly that Mrs. Ellsworthy and Miss Martineau are dreadfully shocked with your scheme. I may be wrong, but I confess I am not shocked. I fancy that you are the kind of girls who will come out victorious, and that though you will have rather a hard struggle, you will not be beaten; but there is one thing I am most anxious to do for you, and that is to keep part of your money. You have exactly two hundred pounds. How much of this little capital do you propose to spend a year?"

"As little as ever we can," answered Primrose.

"Yes, my dear young lady, but you must have some sort of idea with regard to your expenses. I would counsel you on no account to spend more of your capital than seventy pounds a year; by restricting yourselves to this sum you will have a very tiny but certain, income for two years, and will have something to fall back on even in the third year, if you are not then earning enough. Suppose I divide your seventy pounds into four quarterly instalments, and send it to you as you require it. You know nothing of keeping a banking account yourself, and it will absolutely not be safe for you to live in London lodgings, and have a large sum of money with you. Take my advice in this particular, Miss Primrose, and allow me still to be your banker."

"There is one little difficulty," said Primrose; "we really want to be independent, and as we know that there will be difficulties and discouragements in the career we are marking out for ourselves, and that we may often grow faint-hearted and lonely, Jasmine and I feel that we had better put ourselves quite out of the way of temptation. We have, therefore, made up our minds not to give our address to any one in Rosebury for at least two years. How can you send us the money, Mr. Danesfield, if you don't know where to send it?"

"My dear young lady, I fear you are a little bit too headstrong, and though I admire your spirit, I cannot quite approve of your cutting yourselves off from all communications with your friends. However, it is not for me to interfere. Will this satisfy you, Miss Primrose?—shall I give you my solemn promise only to use the address with which you favor me to forward your money each quarter, and never to divulge your secret to anybody else?"

Finally this plan was adopted, and Primrose received her small quarterly allowance with great regularity.

CHAPTER XXII. CROSS PURPOSES.

After his interview with Jasmine in St. Paul's Cathedral, Arthur Noel went home to his very luxurious chambers in Westminster, and wrote the following letter to Mrs. Ellsworthy:—

"MY DEAR MOTHER-FRIEND,

"The most curious thing has happened. I came accidentally to-day across the three girls about whom you were so interested. I met them at St. Paul's, and could not help speaking to the second one. The brightness, and yet the melancholy, of her little face attracted my attention. She was not with the rest of her party, but sat for some of the time on one of the chairs, and then knelt down and covered her face. Poor little soul! I think she was crying. My sympathies were roused by her, and I spoke. She flashed up a very bright glance at me, and we became friends on the spot. I took her about the cathedral, and showed her one or two objects of interest. She was full of intelligence. Then her sisters joined her, and your boy came up, and, of course, his name came out; and there was confusion and wondering glances, and the girl whom I had spoken to turned first crimson, and then white, and her dark grey eyes became full of tears. 'I know the Ellsworthys; they are my dear, dear friends!' she exclaimed.

"I found out where the three lived before I left them. They were accompanied by a prim-looking maiden lady, who was introduced to me as a Miss Slowcum, and who appeared to be taking excellent care of the pretty creatures. All three are delightful, and I have lost my heart to them all.

"Can I do anything for them? Of course you have already told me what perverse creatures they are, and Miss Jasmine confirmed your story, only, of course, she put her own coloring on it. I pity them, and yet, to a certain extent—forgive me, mother-friend—I admire their spirit. That eldest girl had a look about her face which will certainly keep every one from being rude to her. Such an expression of innocence and dignity combined I have seldom come across. Now, can I help them? It is an extraordinary thing, but I have a wonderful fellow-feeling for them. I can never forget the old days when I too was alone in London, and you took me up. Do you remember how you met me, and took my thin and dirty hands in yours, and looked into my face and said: 'Surely this is a gentleman's son, although he is clothed in rags?' I could just remember that I was a gentleman's son, and that I used to put my arms round a beautiful lady's neck and kiss her, and call her mother. Between her face and me there was a great horror of darkness, and suffering, and ill-usage; and my memories were feeble and dream-like. I don't even now recall them more vividly. You took me up, and—you know the rest of my history.

"Well, it is a strange thing, but those girls, especially that little Jasmine, brought back the memory of the lady whose sweet face I used to kiss. Can I do anything for your girls? There are a thousand ways in which I could help them without