The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls by L. T. Meade (free reads .TXT) 📕

you very much, Mrs. Flint; we will have some tea now, if you please, and then go at once to our room."

"Does Poppy—I mean Sarah—wait at the tea-table?" inquired Jasmine, as their hostess led the way up a flight of stairs, and down a passage. "I hope she does—I want to see her so badly."

"Sarah's duties at the present moment are in the kitchen," responded Mrs. Flint, with some graciousness. "Now, young ladies, let me precede you, and introduce you to my guests. Miss Mainwaring, Miss Jasmine and Miss Daisy Mainwaring—Mrs. Mortlock, Mrs. Dredge, Miss Slowcum. Young ladies, will you seat yourselves at the table?"

Mrs. Flint moved to her place at the head of the board; the three girls dropped into seats, and were stared broadly at by Miss Slowcum and Mrs. Mortlock. Mrs. Dredge, however, did not stare, but stretching out one rather plump white hand, took Daisy's within her own and gave it a little squeeze.

"Tired, pretty little dear!" she said; "tired and cold. Ah, I know all about it."

"No, she's not cold, she's hot," responded Jasmine; "this is the hottest, closest room I've ever been in. You are Mrs. Dredge, are you not? Please, Mrs. Dredge, can you tell me how near we are to the real glories of the city from here?"

"I don't know, my dear—I fancy a very long way," answered Mrs. Dredge, with a sigh—this sigh was instantly taken up by Mrs. Mortlock and Miss Slowcum, and Miss Slowcum remarked that the situation might certainly be considered the worst in London.

"Ha, ha!" said Mrs. Mortlock, "you will have to come down in your prices after that, Mrs. Flint. Ha, ha! your question was a very leading one, Miss Jasmine Mainwaring."

Poor Jasmine began to feel quite alarmed, and instantly resolved not to open her lips again during tea.

The meal proceeded, and very dull it was; nor was the fare appetizing, for the tea was weak and the bread was stale. The three young faces, so fresh from the country and from home, began to reflect the general dulness. Mrs. Flint always made it a rule never to speak except when obliged—Daisy was nearly asleep, Primrose felt a dreadful lump in her throat, and Jasmine's dark curly head was bent low, and her bright eyes were not seen under their long lashes, for she was very well aware that they were full of tears.

She was a most impulsive creature, however, quick and variable in her moods, unselfish in her character. Suddenly it dawned upon her that it was not fair to the rest of the party that she should be so dull. She had always been considered the sunbeam at home; why should she not try to become the sunbeam of Penelope Mansion?

"I know what will do it," she exclaimed, jumping from her seat, and nearly upsetting her own tea and Daisy's. "Of course, how silly of me!—I know what will alter things directly." Then she flew out of the room, returning the next moment with Mrs. Ellsworthy's great basket of fruit and flowers.

"Primrose," she said, "mightn't we share these with the ladies? They are all quite fresh from the country. Oh yes, of course we may share them. Mrs. Flint, which will you have, some flowers, a bunch of grapes, or a peach?"

Mrs. Flint selected a good-sized bunch of grapes with a placid smile, and a "Thank you, Miss Jasmine"—Mrs. Mortlock also took grapes, Miss Slowcum selected flowers, and Mrs. Dredge partook of a peach with great relish, calling it, as she did so, a "sweet reminiscence of the blooming country."

After this little incident the ladies of Penelope Mansion and the Mainwaring girls became quite friendly; nevertheless the three cried themselves to sleep that night.

CHAPTER XVII. ESCORTED BY MISS SLOWCUM.

"Within the house at least," remarked Poppy Jenkins, "it ain't what we dreamt of."

She was standing the next morning in the room where the three sisters had slept—it was early, only five o'clock in the morning, but this was Poppy's London hour for rising. Jasmine was sitting up in bed and regarding her earnestly, Primrose was also awake, but Daisy slept like a cherub.

"It ain't what we dreamt of," continued Poppy—"it's work, and it's dirt, and it's dust, and it's smuts. Oh, my word! the smuts is enough to turn one crazy. Nothing is white here, as you calls white in the country—speckled is more the word. No, no. Penelope Mansion is, taking it all in all, a biting disappointment."

"Well Poppy, Penelope Mansion is not the whole of London," said Jasmine, in a rather quavering, but would-be wise voice.

"Yes, but it's the London I has got to do with," answered Poppy Jenkins—"and oh! the worst of all is, that aunt won't have me called by my home name—she speaks of it most bitter as a 'weed.' She says poppies are what are meant in the Scripter by the tares. Don't it sound real awful?—I trembled all over when she told me that. So Sarah I am here, and Sarah Ann, and Sarah Jane, and Sarah Mary the ladies calls me. When they're in a very good humor I'm Sarah Mary, and when they're a bit put out it's Sarah Jane they calls for, and now and then I'm Sarah Ann—then I know I'm in for a scolding. Oh yes, Miss Primrose, London is not what we thought it."

"Never mind," said Primrose sweetly; "you'll always be Poppy to us, dear, and I know the tares were not poppies, so don't you fret—the poppy is a sweet flower, and Poppy is a sweet name for a girl. Why we four are all called after flowers, and we must just be very friendly, and very brave and loving and sweet in this London, and then, perhaps, it won't disappoint us."

"You're real kind, Miss Primrose," said Poppy. "Yes, it's a great ease to me to know as you three are in the house. I won't be so lonesome-like now, and I won't be dreaming that I'm a tare. It's awful to think of yourself as a tare, but I know now that aunt made a mistake. Oh, ain't Miss Daisy beautiful in her sleep? Now look here, you're all tired, and I'll bring you up your breakfasts in bed. You shall have some of mother's fresh eggs and real country butter. I'll run downstairs, and bring you up some breakfast the very first thing."

The girls spent that morning in their room. They unpacked a few of their things, and put their mother's picture on the mantel-piece, and Primrose opened Mr. Danesfield's letter. It contained an enclosure within and on this enclosure was written, in a funny little printing hand, "When you want me, use me; don't return me, and never abuse me."

Primrose's face grew rather red. She read the funny little motto two or three times, then put the enclosure unopened into her trunk.

"I think," she said, looking at Jasmine, "that we will not send this back. I had a queer dream last night. It seemed to me that mother came to me and said, 'Are you not foolish to cast away all your kind friends? Try to remember that true independence is not too proud to lean on others. Primrose, for my sake do not be over proud.' Mr. Danesfield was always a friend of mother's," continued Primrose, "so I will keep his letter until we want it, and will write him a little note to thank him for it."

Then the girls sat down by the open window and looked out into the street. It was a very dull street, and the day was warm and murky, with no sun shining.

"This afternoon we will go out," said Primrose. "I shall speak about it at lunch, and ask Mrs. Flint to allow us to take Poppy with us. I am so sorry Poppy feels dull. Now, girls, we must just make up our minds not to do that—we must keep up brave hearts, and not sigh and look dismal; that would never do. We have elected our own course, and if we are not courageous we shall be beaten. I for one am determined not to be beaten."

"I've always heard," said Jasmine, "that to sigh was very weakening. What I propose is this—that we give each other a fine whenever we are heard sighing, and another much more severe fine if we grumble, and the worst fine of all if we cry. Now, what shall the fines be?"

After a little consideration the girls decided that the fines might as well lead in the direction of their education. Accordingly they marked out for themselves some of the most ponderous passages in "Paradise Lost" to learn by heart, and as a severe punishment they selected little bits of a very incomprehensible book, called Butler's "Analogy." When they had carefully made these selections a rather feeble bell was heard to tinkle in the mansion, and they went downstairs to lunch.

"I hope you are comfortably unpacked now, young ladies?" inquired Mrs. Flint.

"And I trust you have recovered from the fatigues of your long journey?" questioned Mrs. Dredge. "It is a weary way from Devonshire—a long and weary way."

"You speak of it as though it were a kind of disappointment to come from Devonshire to London," remarked Miss Slowcum, "whereas London is the place for aspiring souls."

"Oh, I'm so delighted to hear you say that!" said Jasmine—"Poppy—I mean Sarah—spoke quite dismally this morning, but I knew she must be wrong."

"The young country servant," responded Miss Slowcum, "Sarah Jane, I think her name is—oh, well, her judgment need scarcely be depended on. Yes, London is the place of places. I have lived here for years, and I ought to know."

"We quite believe you," said Jasmine—"don't we, Primrose?—we have come up here because we quite feel with you; we are going out after lunch to see the beauties of the city."

"May I ask, young ladies, if this is your first visit to the metropolis?" suddenly inquired Mrs. Mortlock.

Primrose answered her "Yes; we have never been here before."

"Then, Mrs. Flint, I put it to you, is it safe to allow these young unfledged birds out into this vast and bewildering place? ought not some one to chaperon them?"

"We thought of asking for Poppy," answered Jasmine.

Here Mrs. Flint frowned at her.

"Allow me to make one request, Miss Jasmine Mainwaring; the young person you speak of is not known here by a name which signifies a tare or a weed. Yes, I shall be pleased to allow Sarah to go out with you this afternoon for a short time, but she knows as little of London as you do. I cannot go myself, as Friday is a busy afternoon. I can, however, give you a map, and if you all keep close together and don't wander too far, and are careful only to inquire of policemen your destination you may get back safely. Don't forget, tea at six."

Here Miss Slowcum, turning her eyes slowly, looked carefully all over the three girls.

"I am most particular," she said; "I never wander abroad without carefully choosing my company, but on the whole I feel satisfied a kindred spirit to my own lurks in your eyes, Miss Jasmine. Permit me, young ladies, to escort you forth this afternoon."

This offer was accepted very gladly, although Jasmine had quickly to remember her fine, or she would have given a very deep sigh when Miss Slowcum pointed a comparison between them. In the delight, however, of going into real London all these minor considerations and discomforts were forgotten.

CHAPTER XVIII. IN ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.

Miss Slowcum was right in saying that she was very particular with regard to her company. She prided herself on having select taste. She thought it well to assume distant airs to the other inmates of Penelope Mansion—Mrs. Dredge she thought quite beneath her notice, Mrs. Mortlock was slightly more tolerated, but Miss Slowcum never really unbent to either of these ladies. As she said to herself, she could never forget that she came of the Slowcums of ——shire that her father had been Captain Slowcum of the Royal Navy, and that, all things considered, her true position in society was with the county folk. What, therefore, could a lady of such patrician birth have in common with a Mrs. Mortlock or a Mrs. Dredge? Alas! however, Miss Slowcum was poor—she was very poor, and she was a great deal too genteel to work. The terms at Penelope Mansion were by no means high, and in order to live she was obliged to put up with uncongenial company. She was a very tall and angular person—her face was long and thin, her eyes small, her mouth undecided, but in her heart of hearts she was by no means wanting in good nature; and when, the night before, Jasmine, with her charming little face, offered her some of the country flowers, she