“I should be the happiest girl in all the world if I could find my brother,” here interrupted Jasmine; “I often dream of him at night; he must have been a darling little boy.”

“But if he were to come here twenty times,” said Daisy, “I could never love him better than I love the Prince.”

There was quite a little buzz of admiration through the room when Daisy made this innocent little speech, and all eyes were turned on Arthur Noel.  Then there was a pause.  Mr. Ellsworthy was again heard to clear his throat, and no one seemed quite to know what to do next.  Suddenly Hannah Martin broke the spell—­

“Goodness gracious me!” she said, “how long are the darling young ladies to be kept in suspense?  Miss Primrose, why, you have got a brother, and there he stands.  Mr. Arthur, come and kiss your sisters, my dear.  Oh, my darling, darling girls, it’s perfectly, perfectly true; he’s the boy your mother broke her heart about long ago.”

The confusion and agitation which followed can scarcely be described—­the joy of the sisters can scarcely be painted.  Daisy took this wonderful and important discovery more coolly and calmly than the others.

“It doesn’t make a bit of difference in my love to him,” she said, “for I always loved him as if he were my brother.”

“And now, Primrose,” said Arthur, “you are mistress of this house, and please remember that visitors are coming here presently, and that you are to entertain them.”

“Are we always to live with you, Arthur?” asked Jasmine.  “It seems better than a dream.  Oh, Arthur,” she continued, not waiting for her brother’s reply, “don’t you remember how we made friends the very first moment we met? we must have always known, deep down in our hearts, that we were brother and sister.”

“And this is to be our new Palace Beautiful,” said Daisy, “and Poppy is to live here too.  Oh, Primrose, do you not feel almost too happy?”

“I’ve given up my independence,” said Primrose, “and yet I never felt more happy or more thankful.”

The party that evening was a success.  The astonishment of the good ladies from Penelope Mansion when they heard the wonderful news passed all bounds.  Mrs. Dredge sat plump down on a chair, placed her fat hands on her lap, and fairly cried.

“Oh, if only my poor dear husband had lived to see this beautiful day,” she said.  “Young man, I have liked you from the first; you’re the kind of young man whom my good husband would have rejoiced to be papa to.”

Miss Slowcum sighed most deeply when she heard the news.  “It’s a touching romance,” she said, “quite worthy of the olden times.  I could imagine Mr. Noel—­Mr. Mainwaring, I suppose we must call him now—­as belonging to the old knights of chivalry.  Yes, I am a person of discernment, and I long ago saw that the dear girls belonged to the upper ten.”

“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” said Mrs. Mortlock.  “In this case, ladies and gentlemen, I beg to reverse the familiar words, for amid all your joy I have lost my ‘continual reader.’  She had her faults—­no, I’m not going to deny that being young she had her faults—­but she was ever good-natured, and she did her gossip chirrupy.”