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

her cheeks were flushed and her pretty eyes bore traces of tears. Miss Egerton had told the good little lady for the first time the sad story of Daisy's terrible adventure with Mr. Dove. All the poor little child's terror, and her final flight into the country, were graphically described by the good woman.

"She went to find me, little darling, little darling," repeated Mrs. Ellsworthy, tears running down her cheeks. "Oh, my dear little girl! to think of her being turned away from my very gates."

When Miss Egerton at last took her leave Mrs. Ellsworthy felt too much excited to stay quiet; and when her husband came into the room he found her much perturbed.

"Joseph," she said, running up to him, "I have such a story for you," and then she once again repeated little Daisy's adventure.

"And Joseph," she added, "Miss Egerton and I have quite agreed that you and I are to educate the girls; and, Joseph, the dear good creature is resolved that they shall stay with her in town, and that you and I are only to have the pleasure of spending any amount of money on them; but I will not have it. Joseph, I am resolved that they shall come to us at Shortlands, and have the instructions of the very best governess I can procure for them, and then in the spring the darlings shall come up to town, and have masters for every conceivable sort of accomplishment. Oh, Joseph, we shall have our Jasmine yet, as our very own."

Mr. Ellsworthy smiled, kissed his wife, patted her on the cheek, told her to do just what she liked, and went downstairs to his beloved books. But Mrs. Ellsworthy's excitement kept her on thorns for the greater part of the evening.

That night she dreamt of the Mainwarings; dreamt that she saw Daisy's piteous little face when she was turned away from her gates; dreamt again a brighter dream, that Jasmine had her arms round her neck, and was calling her mother; that Primrose, with none of her sweet dignity abated, was smiling at her, and saying gratefully, "I accept your kindness; I will gladly take your money; I will come and live with you at Shortlands, and be to you as a daughter." And Daisy was saying, in that funny little sententious voice of hers which she sometimes used, "Weren't we all naughty, and aren't we good now, and is it not a good thing that our pride should have a fall?"

Mrs. Ellsworthy sighed deeply when she awoke from this beautiful dream.

"It was but a dream," she said to herself, and she went downstairs sadly and soberly to her breakfast.

Mr. Ellsworthy had breakfasted at a much earlier hour, and the little lady had her beautifully-appointed table to herself.

"Now, if the girls were all here," she thought, "how pleasant and cheerful it would be! Primrose should sit just opposite to me, and pour out the coffee; she would do it very nicely and deftly, and would look so sweet and daughterly. And Jasmine—little witch!—I do not suppose she would keep the same seat two mornings running, and I should have to tell her over and over not to jump up every moment to rush to the window. Daisy would sit near me, and, of course, I should have to have a special chair made for that funny kitten of hers. I would dress the three girls in white—white is so sweet for girls—and how Jasmine and Daisy would chatter; their voices are very sweet in tone, and they never talk too fast, so as to make one's head ache. I often fancy I hear Jasmine talking to me now, her voice is so bright—and—oh, dear! is not that very like her voice? Who is that asking for me in the hall? Surely, surely, it must be Jasmine Mainwaring. No other voice that I know has such a ring about it."

Mrs. Ellsworthy half rose from her seat, half sat down again, and the color of eager anticipation flushed her cheeks.

The eager voice outside came nearer, light steps sounded in the hall, and the next moment Jasmine had her arms round her friend's neck, and was kissing her, while both woman and girl wept.

"I had to come to you," said Jasmine, while she wiped some bright falling tears away. "I have not come to stay, nor to give you our address, nor to do anything of which Primrose would not approve; but after Miss Egerton told me last night all that you wanted to do for us, and how you still loved us, I just had to run round and thank you and kiss you. Primrose and Daisy are still in the country, and Daisy is better. Aren't you glad she will be all right again soon?"

"Have breakfast with me, Jasmine," said Mrs. Ellsworthy. "I was thinking so much about you, and so longing to see you, and to have you in the room seems like a beautiful dream realized. Sit down now and have some breakfast with me."

"I did not have any at home, so I will," answered Jasmine. "I stayed awake half the night thinking about you. Oh, you are a real, real friend!"

"And I spent the greater part of the night dreaming about you three girls," said Mrs. Ellsworthy. "Have some buttered toast, Jasmine, and some of this apricot preserve."

"Did you dream about us last night?" asked Jasmine. "Did you really? You must love us very much."

"I believe I do. Now, Jasmine, I will not ask you for your address. I will do nothing more to really help you until we get Primrose's letter, but I want you all the same to spend this whole long day with me."

Jasmine smiled, and her cheeks flushed.

"It would be very luxurious," she said, "and such a change from our attics, although Daisy does call them a Palace Beautiful. Will you take me for a drive, if I stay, Mrs. Ellsworthy, and will you let me imagine myself quite a rich little girl all day long? You must not give me any presents, you know, for Primrose would not like that; but I can imagine I have got all kinds of things, and I wonder, oh! I wonder, if we might call to see Poppy this afternoon?"

"We will take her too for a drive in the Park," said Mrs. Ellsworthy. "I have heard a great deal of that Poppy of yours, and I think she is quite a splendid kind of girl."

Thus a very delightful programme was unexpectedly realized by two little hard-working London girls, for Mrs. Ellsworthy gave herself up to be enchanting, and took Poppy away from her work of drudgery, and from the astonished ladies of the boarding-house.

Poppy, in her dazzlingly brilliant hat, and with her cheeks quite flaming with excitement, stepped into the carriage, and drove away, facing Mrs. Ellsworthy and Jasmine, to the great scandal of the footman, who was obliged, sorely against his will, to assist her to her place.

Mrs. Ellsworthy took the girls all round the Park, and then to a place of amusement, and finally she presented Poppy with a very neat brown dress and jacket, and hat to match, saying, as she did so, that really Jasmine, even though she forbade her to offer her any presents, could not lay a like embargo with regard to her friends.

"It's of all the dazzlings, the most blindingly beautiful," was Poppy's oft-reiterated comment. "Oh! won't I have something to tell them ladies about bye-and-bye! Oh, my! Miss Jasmine, what a neat hat, miss! I don't mind denuding this one now, for I has got a 'at from a West End shop what beats anything that Miss Slowcum wears for gentility."

Finally, Jasmine and Poppy both returned to their respective homes, tired, but wonderfully happy little girls.

Mrs. Ellsworthy also laid her head that night on her pillow with a wonderful sense of satisfaction.

"Even if they do not come to me—although they must come," she soliloquized, "I am glad—I shall all my life be glad that I gave Jasmine a happy day."

CHAPTER LI. A LETTER.

A morning or two after this, when Daisy had greatly advanced towards convalescence, and was sitting up in Hannah's tiny little sitting-room to partake of a very dainty little breakfast, Primrose received a long letter from Miss Egerton. This was what it contained:—

"MY DEAR PRIMROSE,

"You of course know that that wicked man Dove has received the sentence which he so richly deserves. Alas, we cannot get back all the stolen money, but we must manage without it, dear, and you are never even to talk of repaying me for the furnishing of dear little Daisy's Palace Beautiful. It has been a joy to me to have you, dear, and I hope you will be able to bring Daisy back with you, and to live here in peace and comfort next winter. Dear Primrose, it is more and more evident to me that young girls should not venture to come to London alone. You showed much bravery in your undertaking; but, my dear girl, the pitfalls you exposed yourselves to were awful to contemplate. I don't want to make you unhappy, dear, after all you have suffered with regard to Daisy, but I must now tell you of a little adventure which our poor dear Jasmine has had. You know how very anxious she has been to see herself in print. Of course, I could not conscientiously encourage her, for although she may have talent (this I am not prepared to say), yet she is a great deal too young to have anything printed. All books worth anything should teach, and surely our dear little girl is only at the age to be taught herself.

"Well, Primrose, the little maid was fired with the strongest ambition. She wrote her novel in secret, and one day, accompanied by that good-natured Poppy Jenkins and sweet little Daisy, went Citywards, and simply plunged—for I can use no other word—into the unknown and to me rather awful realm of publishers.

"Poor child, of course none of the good houses would even look at her immature productions; but she was taken in by a man who professed himself to be the editor of a monthly paper—The Joy-bell was its silly title. On an understanding that her story was to be printed in the pages of The Joy-bell—of course I've never seen the paper, and should not dream of reading anything so rubbishy—poor Jasmine was induced to subscribe two pounds five shillings, or, in other words, to undertake to buy one hundred copies of The Joy-bell. Of course she imagined that her printed words would immediately bring her fame. She paid her money, and looked out for her story."

"Where did she get the money from?" thought the anxious reader.

"Primrose, how wrinkled up your brows are;" called out little Daisy.

Primrose sighed, and resumed her perusal of the closely-written sheets.

"On the very evening our little Daisy ran away Jasmine received her first proofs. They were barbarously printed on wretched paper, but the poor child was in such trouble then that she scarcely noticed them. Afterwards she did read them with care, and was surprised to find what a very small portion of her story had been printed.

"You know that I was unexpectedly detained in the country by the serious illness and death of my poor cousin. Jasmine was not doing as well as we supposed by her profession of dressing dinner-tables. The dear child was determined not to ask help from any one, not even from you, Primrose, and she made a valiant effort to support herself on her tiny earnings. Alas, her purse was all too soon emptied, and she had also upon her the awful load of debt, for Poppy Jenkins it seems, lent her the money to get that rubbishy story published. In her despair she thought of The Joy-bell, and went off to see the editor.

"She was met at the office (poor child, how she could venture there alone is a mystery to me) with the intelligence that The Joy-bell had ceased to exist, and the editor had decamped with poor Poppy's wages.

"Luckily I came home that evening, and found your poor little sister in sad trouble. I am thankful to say I have been able to relieve her present necessities without the slightest inconvenience to myself. Jasmine has been greatly shaken, but she is better again now, and is most anxious that you should not be troubled. I only tell you this much, dear Primrose, because I consider it my bounden duty that you should know how matters really stand. Rest happy about Poppy; her money has been returned to her, and Jasmine has sufficient for her present necessities. On second thoughts, I had better perhaps let you into my little secret. I have borrowed ten pounds for Jasmine on that valuable Spanish lace of her mother's. Do not