The Palace Beautiful Part 31

"It took me all of a heap!" said Mrs. Flint; "I really thought the girl was saucy, and had gone--but never a bit of it. If you'll believe me, ladies, she came in as humble as you please, and quite willing to go back to her work in a quiet spirit. 'Sarah,' I said to her in the morning, 'you'll rue this day,' and she did rue it, and to some purpose, or she wouldn't have returned so sharp in the evening. She's a good girl, taking her all in all, is Sarah, and being my own niece, of course I put up with a few things from her which I would not take from a stranger."

"She spoke pretty sharp this morning about you, Mrs. Flint, to my continual reader," said Mrs. Mortlock; "I wouldn't take no airs, if I was you, from Sarah Maria. Miss Slowc.u.m, I'll trouble you for the pepper, please. Seeing that I'm afflicted, and cannot now use my eyesight, I think there might be a little consideration in the small matter of pepper shown to me, but feel as I will I can find it in no way handy. Thank you, Miss Slowc.u.m; sorry to trouble you, I'm sure."

"She grows more snappish each day," whispered Miss Slowc.u.m to Mrs.

Dredge; but just then the attention of all the good ladies was diverted by a ringing peal at the hall door-bell, followed by eager voices in the hall, and then by the entrance of Poppy, alias Sarah, who broke in upon the quiet of high tea with a red and startled face.

"An awful trouble has happened," she began, breathlessly. "Oh, ladies, you'll pardon me, but this is no time for standing on ceremony, when my own darling little lady, Miss Daisy Mainwaring, has gone and left her sheltering home."

"Good gracious! my continual reader's little sister!" exclaimed Mrs.

Mortlock. "Left her home! you must be mistaken, Sarah Jane."

"No, ma'am, it's a most sorrowful fact," said poor Poppy, who looked terribly dejected, and nearly sobbed as she spoke; "the other two dear young ladies has come for me, and I must go back with them. I'm sorry, Aunt Flint, to part again so soon, but this is unexpected, and my duty lies with my young ladies."

"Your duty lies with your aunt, miss," here exclaimed the exasperated Mrs. Flint. "Sarah, I was taking your part, but your airs are now past standing. Ladies three, I feel convinced that this story is all a make-up. I don't believe for a moment the child has gone away. It's a make-up of Sarah's, who is turning into a most wicked girl."

"I don't believe it," here exclaimed Miss Slowc.u.m. "Sarah Bertha has spoken the truth, I feel convinced. I had a warning dream last night.

I dreamt of white horses, and that always signifies very great trouble. It's my belief that the poor dear innocent little child has been murdered!"

"Murdered!" almost screamed Mrs. Mortlock. "Miss Slowc.u.m, I'll thank you to come and take the seat next me, my dear, and tell me all your reasons in full for making this most startling remark. My dear, I don't object to holding your hand while you're pouring forth the tale of woe. How and where, Miss Slowc.u.m, did the child meet her death?"

Meanwhile, during this wrangling and fierce disputing, Mrs. Dredge, more kind-hearted than the others, had left the room. She had gone into the hall, where Primrose and Jasmine stood side by side. She had listened to their bewildered and agitated little story, and then asking them to sit down and wait for her, she had returned to the parlor.

"Mrs. Flint," she said, "I have been talking to the two elder Mainwaring girls; they are in the hall. No, Mrs. Mortlock, you can't see Miss Primrose at present. The girls are in great trouble, for the little one has gone away, and there seems to be a mystery about it all. Your niece Sarah seems to be the last person who has seen the child, Mrs. Flint, and, of course, Miss Primrose and Miss Jasmine want to talk to her, and she had better go home with them. The friend they live with, a Miss Egerton, left home this very afternoon to spend a week in the country, and so the girls are quite defenceless, and have n.o.body to consult. That being the case, I'm going back with them also to their lodgings in a four-wheeler. Sarah Ann, go and fetch a four-wheeler this instant, and don't stand gaping. Mind, a four-wheeler, girl, and don't bring a hansom on no account near the place. Yes, ladies, it's my duty to go with the poor orphans, and go I will."

While Mrs. Dredge was speaking Mrs. Mortlock ceased to hold Miss Slowc.u.m's very thin hand. Miss Slowc.u.m's face looked decidedly jealous, for she would have dearly liked to have been herself in Mrs.

Dredge's interesting and sympathizing position. Mrs. Mortlock raised her almost sightless eyes to the fat little woman's face, and remarked in a slightly acid voice--

"I'm obliged to you, Mrs. Dredge, for thinking that in the moment of trial the sight of me and a sympathizing squeeze from my hand would have done my continual reader any harm. It's very good-natured of you to go with the orphan girls, Mrs. Dredge, and I'm glad to think you've just had the support of your chop to sustain you under the fatigue.

Please remember, Mrs. Dredge, that we lock up the house in this home at ten o'clock, and no latch-keys allowed. Isn't that so, Mrs. Flint?"

"Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, quite so, ma'am," answered Mrs. Flint, who would not have minded snubbing Miss Slowc.u.m, but was anxious to propitiate both the rich widows; "under ordinary circ.u.mstances that is so, but in a dire moment like the present I think the ten minutes'

grace might be allowed to Mrs. Dredge's kind heart."

"Here's the four-wheeler!" exclaimed Mrs. Dredge.

"Good-bye, ladies. If I'm not in at ten minutes past ten don't look for me until the morning."

When Mrs. Dredge, Primrose, Jasmine, and Poppy got back to the girls'

pretty sitting-room the good-natured little widow proved herself a very practical friend. First of all, she listened carefully to Poppy's account of all that had transpired that day. She then got Primrose to tell her as much as possible about Daisy. All the child's distress and nervousness and unaccountable unhappiness were related, and the sage little woman shook her head several times over the narrative, and said at last, in a very common-sense voice--

"It's as clear as a pikestaff to Jemima Dredge that that sweet little child has been tampered with. Somebody has been frightening the bit of a thing, Miss Primrose, and it's for you to find out who that somebody is. As to where she's gone? Why, she has gone back to where she was born, of course, and you and me will follow her by the first train in the morning, my dear."

"She was taking care of a cheque of mine for seventeen pounds ten s.h.i.+llings," exclaimed Primrose, "and in her little note she speaks of the money being lost. I think nothing of the loss of the money beside Daisy, but, Mrs. Dredge, Jasmine and I cannot afford even a third-cla.s.s ticket to Rosebury just at present."

"Tut, tut, my dear," said Mrs. Dredge, "what's the good of a full purse except to share it? My poor husband Joshua was his name--we was two J's, dear--he always said, 'Jemima, thank G.o.d the chandlery is prospering. A full purse means light hearts, Jemima. We can shed blessings with our means, Jemima.' Those was Joshua's words, Miss Mainwaring, and I hear him now telling them to me from his grave. You and me will go down to Rosebury in the morning, dear, and Miss Jasmine will stay at home with Sarah Mary for company, for there's no sense in waste, and one of you is quite enough to come."

While this conversation was going on Bridget knocked at the girls'

door, and presented Jasmine with a thick parcel, which had just arrived for her by post. It was some of the ma.n.u.script, and the first proofs of her story. The parcel came to hand at a sorrowful moment, and Jasmine laid it on the sofa, made no comment about it, and did not attempt to open it. Primrose scarcely raised her head from her hands, and was not the least curious, but Poppy's eyes gleamed brightly, for sharp Poppy guessed what the parcel contained, and she sincerely hoped that whatever happened this story would prove a great success, and that it would bring in so many gold coins to her young lady that she would become not only rich herself, but able to pay back what she had borrowed from her. For although Poppy was the soul of generosity, she _did_ want her wages back.

CHAPTER XLII.

A NEW EMPLOYMENT.

At an early hour the next morning Mrs. Dredge and Primrose started for Rosebury, and poor Jasmine and Poppy prepared to have a long and lonely time by themselves. Poppy hoped that Jasmine would cheer up, and look at that lovely printed story of hers, and perhaps read it aloud to her; but poor Jasmine was really nearly broken-hearted, and said once almost pa.s.sionately--

"How can I look at it, Poppy, when I don't know where our little darling is? Did she not share my secret? And she was so proud of me and she always would believe I was a genius. I can't look at it, Poppy--no, I can't; but if you like to open the ma.n.u.script, and read what is printed of the story, why you may. Yes, I expect you will find it exciting. Sit down and read it, Poppy, and I will go to the window and look out. Oh, dear! oh, dear! Primrose promised to send me a telegram when she got to Rosebury. Oh, what shall I do if I don't soon hear some news of my darling little Daisy?"

"Seeing as I can't comfort you, Miss Jasmine, I may as well take to reading the mysterious, lovely story," answered Poppy. "Maybe when you're having your dinner bye-and-bye, miss, you won't object to me telling you what I thinks of it."

"Only I shan't care in the least what you think to-day, dear Poppy,"

answered poor little Jasmine, in a tone of deep melancholy.

She went and stood by the window, and Poppy ensconced herself comfortably on the sofa, and began to enjoy herself as best she could under the circ.u.mstances.

In about an hour there came a tap at the door, and Arthur Noel came in. Jasmine gave a little pleased exclamation when she saw him; then she ran forward, took his hand in hers, and burst into tears.

"Daisy is lost," she said; "our sweet little Daisy, who loved you so much, is lost."

"It's inferred that she's gone down with a single third to Rosebury, sir," here interposed Poppy.

"Come and tell me all about it, Jasmine," said Noel, in his most sympathizing tones. He led the poor little girl to the sofa, and, sitting down by her, listened attentively to her story.

"But the Ellsworthys are in London," he said, when he heard that Daisy had gone to them.

On hearing this news poor Jasmine burst into floods of fresh weeping.

"Oh, then she's sure to be quite lost!" she said. "Oh, Mr. Noel, if you are in any sense a true friend, won't you try to find her?"

"Yes, Jasmine; I will never rest until I find her. I am glad I came in to-day. I came to ask you to do something for me, but I find you want my help instead. I will come here this evening, about the time your sister is likely to be back, and I will then go and look for Daisy, in case she is not found. Don't be frightened, Jasmine, I am quite sure we shall soon get tidings of the dear little girl."

"And do you know," said Jasmine, who felt a little comforted, "that we have not only lost Daisy, but all our quarter's money. It is most mysterious. Primrose gave Daisy a check to take care of for her, and Daisy says she has gone away because the cheque is lost. We have no money now that the cheque is lost, except just what Primrose earns from Mrs. Mortlock."

"There's a likelihood of some more earnings presently, Miss Jasmine,"

here interposed Poppy, in a cheerful voice; "there's a likelihood of a good bit more money when this powerful and thrilling romance is published."

"Your story, Jasmine?" said Noel, "and in type? Who did you get to publish it, my dear child? Oh, you must let me read this."

"Another time, please, Mr. Noel. I don't think I could quite bear it to-day," said Jasmine.

Noel looked at her earnestly.

"I wonder, Jasmine," he said, "even though you are in such trouble, if you would be brave enough to help _me_, and to earn a little money to day? I want you to do quite a simple thing, and something you will probably enjoy. I have never read any of your romances, but I have often noticed that you possess rather remarkable artistic tastes, and that you have a very correct eye for the arrangement of color. I have been struck with this even in this little room, and I happened to mention my observations one day to a lady who is a friend of mine.

That lady is giving a dinner-party to-night, and she wants some one to arrange the flowers on her table in as fresh and new a style as possible. Will you come with me to her house now, and see what you can do? She will provide you with the flowers and the gla.s.ses to put them into, and you can arrange them on the table just as you like best. She will give you a guinea for the work, and I think you will find it light and pleasant."

Jasmine's eyes began to sparkle.