Primrose raised her head slowly. "I have been thinking over what you
said yesterday," she began. "As it is quite impossible for my sisters
and me to live on our little income, even with the help of what you
have in the bank, we must try to help ourselves, must we not?"

"This is a brave thought, my dear--of course you must help
yourselves, and you will be none the worse for doing so."

"We must earn money," continued Primrose. "How can girls like us, who
are not educated--for I know we are not _really_ educated--add to our
incomes?"

Mr. Danesfield knit his brows. "Child," he said, "you ask me a
puzzler. I have no children of my own, and I know very little about
young folk. Of one thing, however, I am quite certain; Daisy can earn
no money, nor can Jasmine. You, Primrose, might with some difficulty
get a little place as a nursery governess; you are a nice,
presentable-looking girl, my dear."

Primrose flushed, and the tears, wrung from great pain, came into her
eyes.

"There is just one thing," she said, in a tremulous voice; "whatever
happens, we three girls won't be parted. On that point I have quite
firmly made up my mind."

Mr. Danesfield again knit his brows, and this time he fidgeted
uneasily on his chair.