Mrs. Ellsworthy stooped and kissed Jasmine, and taking her hand, gave
it a little squeeze. "Thank you, my love," she said--"I value your
beautiful flowers--you shall arrange them yourself in this amber
vase."

"They are such a vivid crimson, they would look best against white,"
answered Jasmine, raising her eyes a little anxiously. "I like to
arrange flowers to look like a picture. Mamma always allowed me to
arrange the flowers, and Primrose will in the future." Here Jasmine
went up to Primrose, and took her hand, and the elder sister smiled at
her with great affection, and said, looking at Mrs. Ellsworthy, "We
call Jasmine our artist at home."

"And our poet--she makes poetry about the Pink at home," said Daisy.
"Oh, dear!" she continued, giving a deep sigh, "I can't see the
Persian kitten anywhere. I do hope what Miss Martineau said is not
true."

"What did she say, my dear?" asked the lady of Shortlands.

"Oh, a lot of nonsense--that this was a great house, and we were to
sit on chairs, and not speak unless you spoke to us, and we were not
to play with the Persian kitten, nor see the dogs. She said you were
a very grand lady, and that was the proper way to go on--we didn't
agree with her, did we, Jasmine?"

"No, of course we didn't," said Jasmine; "we knew better."

"We said you were a romp," continued Daisy. "You seemed like it in our