cream-cakes.

The result of all this was that when Miss Martineau, sharp at four
o'clock (the hours were very primitive at Rosebury), arrived at the
Mainwarings' door, the outward aspect of the house bore no tokens of
violent grief on the part of its inmates--the blinds were drawn up,
not quite to the top, for that would have been ugly, and Jasmine was
full of artistic instincts, but they were drawn up to let in plenty of
sunlight, the white muslin curtains were draped gracefully, some pots
of fresh flowers could be seen on the window-ledge, and a canary in a
rather battered cage hung from a hook above, and disported himself
cheerfully in the sunlight.

Miss Martineau was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and she did not
much like the look of the bay window.

She comforted herself, however, with the reflection that even under
the direst afflictions blinds must be drawn up some time, and that she
would doubtless find the poor dear girls in a state of tempestuous
grief within. She imagined herself soothing Jasmine, holding
Primrose's hand, and allowing Daisy to sit on her knee. Miss Martineau
was most kind-hearted, and would have done anything for the three
girls, whom she dearly loved, only, like many another good-hearted
person, she would wish to do that anything or something in her own
way.

"Good evening, Hannah," she said, as the old cook opened the door;
"you have had a sad affliction--a terrible affliction. I hope the dear
young ladies are--" Miss Martineau paused for a word, then she
said--"tranquil."