“You are delightful,” echoed Daisy.

Primrose felt herself almost cross.  “Girls, do stop chattering,” she said.  “Mrs. Ellsworthy, I hope you will excuse my sisters; and won’t you come into the drawing-room?”

“I am charmed with your sisters,” answered the great lady—­“they are fresh, they are original.  Dear Miss Mainwaring, why need we leave this delightful garden? can we not have our little talk here?”

“With pleasure,” said Primrose, but her stiffness did not disappear; she still had a slightly sore feeling at the bottom of her heart, and the thought that Mrs. Ellsworthy never took the trouble to know dear mamma kept recurring.

Mrs. Ellsworthy was quite woman of the world enough to read Primrose, and to guess what was in her heart.  She saw at a glance that the girls were ladies, and would not be patronized.  Her task had seemed easy enough when she assured Miss Martineau that the poor young Mainwarings must be helped.  When she ordered her carriage and drove into Rosebury she made up her mind to discuss their affairs boldly with them, and to offer them practical advice, and, if necessary, substantial assistance.  The eldest girl, if she was at all presentable, might be got into some family as a nursery governess or companion, and she felt quite sure that she had sufficient interest to procure admissions for Jasmine and Daisy into some of the schools especially started to educate the orphan daughters of army men.

But in the garden, although it was a very shabby little garden, this programme did not seem quite so easy.  Jasmine and Daisy were delightful children; they hailed her instantly as a comrade; they thought nothing whatever of her wealth or her position.  Shortlands conveyed no meaning to their unsophisticated minds; they fully believed that Mrs. Ellsworthy envied them their carnations, and would have been made happy by the possession of a kitten similar to the Pink.  Primrose, on the contrary, was proud and shy, and had no idea of treating any stranger in a confidential manner.

Mrs. Ellsworthy chatted on, but she never got beyond commonplaces; she invited the girls to visit her at Shortlands, and Primrose, reading a great desire in Daisy’s blue eyes, answered simply, “Thank you; we shall like to come very much.”

“I’ll manage it when I get them to my own house,” thought Mrs. Ellsworthy; “it’s quite absurd to be baffled by three little chits, but I’ll settle everything in a satisfactory fashion when I get them to Shortlands.”

Aloud she said, “My dears, I shall be very glad to see you—­and can you come to-morrow?  To-morrow I shall be quite alone.”

“Primrose,” burst from Daisy, “there’s a Newfoundland dog, and a mastiff, and two English terriers at Shortlands.  The Newfoundland is black and woolly and the mastiff is tawny, like a lion.”

“Will you really show us over your beautiful conservatories?” asked Jasmine.  “Primrose, she was telling us about her flowers; and they must be lovely.”