by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XLVII.
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 herquickly to recover her strength; but little by little a faint colordid return to her white cheeks, she slept more peacefully, and beganto 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 andnewspaper stuff to a deaf old lady."
"She isn't deaf, Hannah," interrupted Primrose. "She wants me to readto her because her sight is very bad."
"Well, well," replied Hannah Martin, in a testy tone, "whether she'sdeaf or whether she's blind, it ain't no way a fit post for you, MissPrimrose. You've got to stay here now, and take care of that preciouslittle lamb, and you had better send for Miss Jasmine to keep youcompany."
"I am certainly not going to leave Daisy at present," repliedPrimrose. "I've got money enough to go on with, but I must go back totown as soon as possible in order to earn enough to return Mr. Noel'smoney to him. As to Jasmine, do you know, Hannah, she has got quite anice way of making a little income? You remember how cleverly shealways arranged the flowers in our drawing-room at dear Rosebury, andhow our mother always asked her to make bouquets for her? It now seemsthat Jasmine has got rather remarkable taste, and some fine ladies inLondon are employing her to arrange flowers on their dinner-tables.They pay her very well indeed for this, and the labor is nothing atall."
"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 asthe rest of you. To tell the truth, Miss Primrose, my old eyes ache tosee the darling, she was always such a bonny one."
Primrose smiled.
"When the fine ladies go out of town, Hannah, we will have Jasminedown, and you shall squeeze us all into that nice, cosy little bedroomof yours. What a good thing it was, Hannah; that you did not follow usto London, but that you started this nice shop in the country, fornow we three girls can have our change in the country at such smallexpense."
Tears started to Hannah's eyes.
"I've been always saving up for this, Miss Primrose, and if you willtalk of paying me at all, I'll never forgive you; aren't you mynurslings, all three of you, and the only creatures I have got to livefor?"
In the meantime while things were mending for Primrose and Daisy, andDaisy was beginning once more to get that soft pink in her cheekswhich gave her such a curious and touching likeness to hername-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 alsoextremely lonely, for Miss Egerton, owing to the dangerous illness ofa near relation, was still absent from home, and Poppy, driven by thedire necessity of earning bread to eat, had been obliged to return, aslittle maid-of-all-work, to Penelope Mansion.
Jasmine was alone, but she was a brave child, and her strong longingnow was to help Primrose, and above all things not to ask for anymoney from her.
For the first few days after Primrose had gone to the country the poorlittle girl's resources were very meagre indeed. She had thought thatfirst sovereign she had earned simply inexhaustible, but it wassurprising 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 shehad written an extravagantly hopeful letter to Primrose.
"You need not think at all of me, dear Primrose," she wrote; "keep allthe money you can collect to buy nice nourishing things for dearlittle Daisy. Perhaps I shall become quite famous as an arranger offlowers on great London dinner-tables. If I do get orders, and I thinkI am sure of them, I shall not only be able to pay my own Londonexpenses, but will save something towards our emergency fund. Oh,Primrose, my heart burns with longings to earn lots of money, and tobe great and strong and famous!"
This poor little enthusiastic letter reached Primrose when Daisy wasat her worst, and it so happened that it lightened her cares about thelittle sister alone in London. She felt quite sure that Jasmine wasgetting plenty of orders, and was earning sufficient money for her ownmodest wants in the pretty way she spoke of; and in consequence shedid not send her any of the money which Daisy had returned to her.
But poor little Jasmine was not receiving orders so fast as Primroseanticipated. One or two other ladies did ask her to dress theirdinner-tables for them, and one or two more promised to do so, andthen forgot all about it; but no one paid her as well as Mrs. Daintreehad done. Noel was out of town, and was unable to interest himself inher behalf, and so it came to pass that the slender purse could notsupply the modest needs, and Jasmine was much too proud, and toodetermined to help herself, to write to Primrose for money.
These were hard days for the little girl--days which were to prove thestuff she was made of to the very uttermost--but doubtless they gaveher, as all anxious days of pain bravely borne do, a valuableexperience and a depth of character which she could not otherwise haveacquired.
The lesson she was to learn, however, was a painful one, and itssharpness was to be felt very quickly.
Jasmine's hope of hopes lay in her beloved manuscript. That story, thefirst-fruits of her young genius, must surely make her purse bulky,and must wreathe her little brow with laurels. That story, too, was torefund poor Poppy the money she had lent, and was to enable Jasmine tolive in comfort during her sister's absence.
One day, about ten days after Primrose had gone to Rosebury, Jasminestood by the windows of the Palace Beautiful to watch the postman. Hewas coming up the street, and Jasmine greatly, greatly hoped he wouldstop at Miss Egerton's and drop into the letter-box, perhaps, a letterfrom Primrose, and more delightful still, a roll of proofs of her dearstory. The postman, however, passed on his way, and gave his loudrat-tat at the doors to right and the doors to left, but neithersounded the bell nor gave his double-knock at Miss Egerton's door.Jasmine sighed deeply, and retiring from the window, sat down to herfrugal breakfast. She looked pale, and her eyes were not as bright andstarry as usual. Presently she took out her purse and looked at itscontents. This was Thursday. She had dressed a dinner-table on Monday,and had received seven and sixpence. Her purse now contained threeshillings, and she certainly could not accuse herself of anyextravagance in the matter of diet.
"This will never do," she said to herself. "I believe if I do not getany more money I shall be obliged to apply to Primrose, and it wasonly last night I heard from dear old Rose saying how glad she wasthat I was able to support myself. She said Daisy's illness had cost agreat deal, and we must all economize in every possible manner forsome time. Dear darling old Primrose, I will not ask her to help me--Iwill manage for myself. Now how shall I do it? I am afraid thoseladies did not care for the star arrangement of flowers which I madeat that last house. I thought them lovely, peeping out through theirdark green leaves, but I heard Mrs. Lee whispering to Mrs. Mansell,'How peculiar! _do_ you quite like it?' and then Mrs. Mansell saidnothing more about my dressing her dinner-table. Her dinner-party wasto have been to-day, and she _almost_ promised to have me when Iarrived in the morning. Well, there is no use thinking of that; Icannot 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 cheeksflushed, and her eyes began to shine.
"Why, of course," she exclaimed; "how very silly of me to forget!--myhundred copies of _The Joy-bell_ ought to have arrived by now. Yes, ofcourse they ought, and perhaps I shall be able to sell some of them. Ihave no doubt Mrs. Dredge would buy a couple if Poppy asked her andperhaps Mrs. Mortlock and Miss Slowcum would also like to see my firststory in print. Yes, of course, I can sell a few copies. Bridget saidshe would buy one, and she said she had two cronies who would be sureto take a copy each. Yes, I expect I shall make a few shillings by thesale of _The Joy-bell_ to-day, and that w
ill keep me going fine. Oh,dear! the very moment I have earned a little money by them I mustsend a copy down to Daisy. Won't the darling like to show my words ofgenius to Primrose? I'll run downstairs this minute, and ask Bridgetif she has not got a parcel for me."
But alas! no _Joy-bells_ had arrived for Jasmine, and after the littlegirl had wondered a great deal, and talked the matter over withBridget she determined to put on her hat and go off to consult withPoppy.
She was not long finding her way to Penelope Mansion, and Poppy openedthe door for her, but greeted her in a sad voice, and looked decidedlydepressed.
"I have come about _The Joy-bell_" began Jasmine at once, in anexcited 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 meekestvoice.
Poppy's tones were so unlike those she usually employed that Jasmineglanced at her in some surprise.
"Why, Poppy, how funny you are!" she exclaimed. "Is anything thematter?"
"Don't you notice it, Miss Jasmine, but I'm a bit low-like," saidPoppy. "I has my low fits and my high fits same as t'other folks, andthis is a low fit day--that's all, miss."
"Oh! I am so sorry. Poor Poppy! And is the swimming in your head asbad as ever?"
"It's continual, Miss Jasmine. It seems to have become a kind ofhabit, same as the smuts and the Sarah Janes. A swimming head is mostcertain the London style of head for a girl like me. Yes, I am sorry Ican't go with you, Miss Jasmine, darling, but I can't this morning. Ihope you will get safe to the City, miss, and that you will see theeditor, 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 printat last! Most likely the whole of London is flooded by them now, andthe editor will be asking you for more of your words of beauty andwisdom. You make a sharp bargain with him, Miss Jasmine, and beforeyou put pen to paper again for him, you get your money down. There'snothing so safe in clinching a bargain as money down. Oh, dear! I wishI could go with you. And, Miss Jasmine, if you could find itconvenient 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, anddemanding who she was standing gossiping with. Mrs. Flint's voicesounded quite sharp, and Jasmine guessed that something unusual musthave occurred to disturb her, for Mrs. Flint was known on principlenever to excite herself.
"What is the matter with her?" she inquired of Poppy, who flushed upat 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 veryunlike 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 herCitywards.
She was quite a clever little Londoner now, and knew which were theright omnibuses to take, and, in short, how to find her way abouttown. She hailed the City omnibus, and hastily and humbly took herplace amongst its crowded passengers. She was the unlucky twelfth, andher advent was certainly not hailed with delight. The bright morninghad turned to rain, and the passengers, most of them women, werewrapped up in waterproof cloaks. Jasmine, when she entered theomnibus, looked so small, so timid, and unimportant, that no onethought it worth while even to move for her, and at last she wasthankful to get a little pin-point of room between two very buxomladies, who both almost in the same breath desired her not to crowdthem, and both also fiercely requested her to keep her wet dress fromtouching their waterproofs.
At another time Jasmine would have been quite spirited enough toresent the unfriendly behavior of the inmates of the City 'bus; buther interview with Poppy had depressed her greatly, and she had a kindof terrified little fear that she knew the reason of Mrs. Flint'ssharp tones, that she could guess why Poppy's bright face should lookso dismal, and why she was obliged so earnestly to beg of her toreturn her one and sixpence.
"She wants her own money--her wages, that she earned with a swimminghead and all," thought poor Jasmine. "How selfish of me not toremember before that of course, poor Poppy would want her wages; it isperfectly dreadful to think of her doing without them. Why, of course,Mrs. Flint would be likely to scold her if she went about with herragged boots when she earns such good wages. Poor, dear, brave Poppy!she would never tell what she did with her money. Well, she must haveit all back to-day. Yes, I am determined about that, she shall have itback, to-day."
Jasmine was thinking so hard, and so absorbing was her theme, that sheleaned unconsciously against the fat neighbor on her right. This goodperson immediately pushed her with some vigor into the arms of theportly 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 otherneighbor. "I call it downright unconscionable to crowd up Christianwomen like this. Might I make bold to inquire, miss, when you arethinking of alighting?"
"I am going to Paternoster Row," said Jasmine, in a meek voice. "I donot think I am very far from there now."
"Oh, no, miss! we have only to go down Newgate Street, and there youare. It's a queer place, is Paternoster Row, not that I knows muchabout it."
"A mighty bookish place," took up the other neighbor "they say theyare all bookworms that live there, and that they are as dry as bits ofparchment. I shouldn't say that a bright little miss like you had anycall 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 Ibelong to the booky and the parchmenty people, but I do. I am goingdown the Row to inquire about one of my publications, perhaps I oughtto say my first, so I am anxious about it."
"Lor', who would have thought it!" exclaimed both the ladies, but theyinstantly fell back and seemed to think it better to leave soalarmedly learned a little girl alone. For the remainder of the ridethey talked across Jasmine about the price of onions, and where thecheapest bacon was to be purchased, and they both breathed a sigh ofrelief when she stepped out into the rain and they could once moreexpand themselves in the space which she had occupied.
Meanwhile the forlorn little adventurer walked down the narrow path ofthis celebrated Row. It was still raining heavily, and Jasmine'sumbrella had several rents in its canopy. Now that she was so close toher destination she began to feel strangely nervous, and many fearshitherto unknown beset her. Suppose, after all, _The Joy-bell_ whichcontained the first portion of her story had not had a large success;suppose, after all, the public were not so delighted with her flowingwords. Perhaps the editor would receive her very coldly, and wouldtell her what a loss her story had been, and how indisposed he felt togo on with it. If this was the case she never, never would havecourage to ask him to give her Poppy's wages. If the editor scoldedher she felt that she would be incapable of saying a word in her owndefence. Nay, she thought it extremely probable that then and thereshe would burst into tears. Undoubtedly, she was in a very low frameof mind to-day. She, as well as Poppy, had her low fit on, and shegreatly trembled for the result of the coming interview. Since thatpathetic little last speech of Poppy's about her broken boots Jasminehad quite forgotten how sorely she needed money for herself. Her oneand 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 havemade 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 saysthat 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 bewrong, and Poppy is a person of great discernment. I must cheer up andbelieve what they told me. I daresay Poppy is right, and London ishalf-flooded with my story. Ah, here I am at the entrance of t
he courtwhere the editor of _The Joy-bell_ lives. How funny it is to be hereall alone. I really feel quite like a heroine. Now I am at theoffice--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 ofother books and papers, but no _Joy-bells_. Dear, dear! my heart doesbeat, for I am thinking that perhaps Poppy is right, and that all thecopies of _The Joy-bells_ are bought up; that, of course, is onaccount of my story." Then Jasmine entered the house, and went into alittle office where a red-haired boy was sitting on a high stoolbefore a dirty-looking desk. The boy had a facetious and ratherunpleasant face, and was certainly not remarkable for good manners.
"I want to see the editor of _The Joy-bell_," asked Jasmine, in asfirm a tone as she could command.
The red-haired boy raised his eyes from a huge ledger which he waspretending to occupy himself over, and said, "Can't see him," in alaconic tone, and dropped his eyes again.
"But why?" asked Jasmine, somewhat indignantly. "I have particularbusiness 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 differenttone--
"I am very much disappointed; there is a story of mine in _TheJoy-bell_, and I wanted to speak to him about it. It was veryimportant, indeed," she added, in so sad a voice that the red-hairedboy 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 lastweek."
Poor Jasmine staggered against the wall, and her pretty face becameghastly white.
"Oh, boy," she said, "do tell me about it; how can _The Joy-bell_ bedead, and have a funeral? Oh, please, don't jest with me, for it's soimportant."
The genuine distress in her tones touched at last some vulnerablepoint in the facetious office-boy's breast.
"I'm real sorry for you, miss," he said, "particular as you seems socut up; but what I tell you is true, and you had better know it. Thateditor has gone, and _The Joy-bell_ is decently interred. I was at herbirth, and I was at her funeral. She had a short life, and was neverup to much. I never guessed she'd hold out as long as she did; but theeditor was a cute one, and for a time he bamboozled his authors, andmanaged to live on them. Yes, _The Joy-bell_ is in her quiet grave atlast, and can't do no more harm to nobody. Lor', miss, I wouldn'ttake on if I was you, you'd soon get accustomed to it if you had adesk at an office like this. In at the births, and in at the deaths amI, 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 trulyelegant--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 youmust be going, miss? Well, good morning. If I was you, miss, Iwouldn't send no more stories to this yere office."