In Noel’s very lovely drawing-room many friends were assembled.  Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworthy, of course, were present; also Mr. Danesfield, Miss Martineau, and Miss Egerton.  Old Hannah stood in the background and when the three pretty sisters came into the room they were surrounded by eager and loving faces, and were most warmly welcomed.  Mrs. Ellsworthy, it is true, still appeared much agitated; she had an intense longing to take Jasmine in her arms and cry over her, but she had, of course, too much sense to do anything so unsuitable and silly.  The girls were asked to sit down, and Mr. Ellsworthy, who had been elected spokesman, stood up, cleared his throat, and looked at his wife.  Twice he made an attempt at utterance; finally he said in a voice which trembled—­“My dear, I can’t manage it—­you had better do it yourself.”

“I presume you are addressing me, Joseph,” said Mrs. Ellsworthy.  “I—­I—­this is unexpected; but anything to get it over.  My dear girls, you have come here to-day to hear what we have arranged for you.  We felt you could not go on as you have been doing.”

“Impossible,” here interrupted Mr. Danesfield.  “They were the victims of thieves and rogues.  The thing could not have gone on a day longer.”

“So we made plans—­very nice plans,” continued Mrs. Ellsworthy.  “It never occurred to us that they would be knocked on the head, crushed, obliterated.  Oh, I am very happy, of course, but I could cry at having my plans spoiled a second time.”

“I don’t think they are really spoiled,” said Primrose who had grown very white, and now rose to her feet.  “I know I was proud about accepting help.  I had such a longing to be independent.  Perhaps I feel sore about accepting help still, but I have made up my mind; for all our sakes it is best.  I submit—­I give in—­I am very grateful.”

“Perhaps, Primrose,” said Mrs. Ellsworthy, whose bright eyes were now full of tears, “I may convince you yet that you have no cause to feel sore, and that proud heart of yours will not be pained.  I believe the help you need is coming to you three sisters in such a guise that you cannot fail but to accept it gladly, and as your natural right.”

“It cannot quite be our natural right,” said Primrose.  “There are no possible circumstances under which it can be quite natural for girls to take money help from even the kindest friends who are not related to them.”

“In this case there may even possibly be a relationship,” proceeded Mrs. Ellsworthy.  “Primrose, suppose that little brother who was lost long ago—­little Arthur your mother called him—­suppose he came here to-day, and said, ’I am grown up, and rich—­I am the right person to help my sisters,’ you would feel no soreness of heart at accepting help from your own brother, Primrose?”

“My own brother,” repeated Primrose in a wistful and longing voice; “it is cruel to remind me of my brother.  He was lost many, many years ago; he has probably long been dead.”