Mrs. Mortlock was fond of Primrose, but was never slow in expressing
an opinion.

"Crisp up, Miss Mainwaring," she said; "crisp up a little; drawling
voices give me the fidgets most terribly. Now, my dear, try to fancy
yourself in the House of Commons; read that speech more animated, my
love. Ah, that's better!"

Primrose exerted herself, and for a few minutes the reading came up to
its usual standard, but then, again, thoughts of Daisy oppressed the
young reader, and once more her voice flagged.

"There, my dear, you had better turn to the bits of gossip; they are
more in your line, I can see, this morning. Dear, dear, dear! I can't
tell what's come to girls these days; they don't seem to find no heart
nor pleasure in anything. Now, if there is a girl who, in my opinion,
has fallen on her feet, it's you, Miss Mainwaring; for, surely, the
handsome salary I allow is earned with next to no trouble. When once a
girl can read she can read continual, and that's all I ask of you."

"I'm sorry," said Primrose; "some things at home are troubling me, and
I cannot help thinking about them. I shall do better over the gossip."

"That's right, my love! I'd ask you about the home troubles, but my
nerves won't stand no worriting. Get on with the gossip, dear, and
make your voice chirrupy and perky, as though you saw the spice of it
all, and enjoyed it--do."

Just at this moment, while poor Primrose was trying to train her
unwilling voice, the door was opened, and Poppy, red in the face, and