"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 manuscript, 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 circumstances.

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,