another?"

She walked quickly in her agitation, and passing the village green,
came suddenly upon Poppy Jenkins, who was hurrying home to her
mother's cottage.

"Well, Miss Primrose, I'm off to-morrow," said Poppy, dropping one of
her quick curtseys, and a more vivid red than usual coming into her
bright cheeks.

"Yes, Poppy," answered Primrose; "I hope you will be very happy in
London"--then a sudden thought occurring to her, she ran after the
young girl and laid her hand on her shoulder.

"Poppy, give me your London address--I may want it."

"Oh law! Miss Primrose, do you think you'd be saving out of the thirty
pounds regular income and coming up to London on a visit?"

"We may come to London, Poppy--I can't say," answered Primrose in a
sad voice--"anyhow, I should like to have your address--may I have
it?"

"Surely, miss--aunt lives in a part they call central--she says the
rents are very high, but it's all done for the convenience of the
beautiful ladies who boards with her. Aunt's address is Penelope
Mansion--Wright Street, off the Edgware Road. It's a beautiful
sounding address, isn't it, Miss Primrose?"

Primrose smiled again--a smile, however, which made poor little Poppy