"I can come with you if you want me for anything, Jasmine," answered
Primrose, putting her hand to her head in a dazed sort of way.

Jasmine's brow cleared, and her face grew bright instantly.

"It's rather exciting," she said; "I'm so glad you can come. It is
about Poppy Jenkins--Poppy is downstairs--she is going away--she has
come to say good-bye. Do you know, Primrose, that she is actually
going to London?"

Jasmine looked so delighted and eager that Primrose could not help
smiling, and taking her sister's hand, they ran downstairs together.

Poppy, who had very black eyes, cheeks with a brilliant color, and
hair like a raven's wing, was standing in the drawing-room twisting
her apron strings and chatting volubly to Daisy. She had known the
girls all her life, and not only loved them dearly, but respected them
much. To Poppy Jenkins there never were three such beautiful and
altogether charming young ladies as the Misses Mainwaring.

When Primrose appeared she dropped her a curtsey--perhaps she
respected Primrose the most, and loved her the least.

"It's to say good-bye, miss," she began, "I called in, hoping for last
words with you three dear young ladies. I is summoned to London, Miss
Primrose."

Nothing could exceed the air of modest pride with which Poppy made
this declaration; she quite expected Primrose to be both startled and
dazzled, and said afterwards that it was rather like a little stream