“Yes,” said Primrose, in her gentle tones.  “It does not make us think less of dear mamma to see people—­and—­and—­we have decided to go on much as usual now.”

“You might have admitted me before, dears,” replied Miss Martineau—­“I felt so intensely for you—­I could never get you out of my head.  I was a good deal hurt by your refusing to admit me, my dear girls, for in all respects I would have wished to be a mother to you.”

“Please, don’t,” said Jasmine.

“We couldn’t have another mother,” said little Daisy, clinging close to Primrose, and looking up into her sister’s sweet face.

Primrose stooped and kissed her.

“You may run into the garden, darling, and take the Pink,” she said.

Miss Martineau had no intention of leaving the Mainwarings without speaking out her mind.  It was one of this good lady’s essential privileges to speak out her mind to the younger generation of the Rosebury world.  Who had a better right to do this than she? for had she not educated most of them? had she not given them of the best of her French and her music? and was she not even at this present moment Jasmine’s and Daisy’s instructress?  Primrose she considered her finished and accomplished pupil.  Surely the girls, even though they had refused to admit her for a month, would turn to her now with full confidence.  She settled herself comfortably in the arm-chair in which Primrose had placed her, and saying, in her high-pitched and thin voice—­

“Now, my dears, you will take seats close to me—­not too close, loves, for I dislike being crushed, and I have on my Sunday silk.  My dear girls, I want us now to have a really comfortable talk.  There is a great deal that needs discussion, and I think there is nothing like facing a difficult subject resolutely, and going through it with system.  I approve of your sending Daisy into the garden, Primrose.  She is too young to listen to all that we must go into.  I purpose dears, after the manner of our school-hours, to divide our discourse into heads—­two heads will probably be sufficient for this evening.  First, the severe loss you have just sustained—­that we will talk over, and no doubt mingle our tears together over; take courage, my dear children, such an unburdening will relieve your young hearts.  Second—­Jasmine, you need not get so very red, my dear—­second, we will discuss something also of importance; how are you three dear girls going to live?”

Here Miss Martineau paused, took off her spectacles, wiped them, and put them on again.  She felt really very kindly, and would have worked herself to a skeleton, if need be, for the sake of the Mainwarings, whom she sincerely loved.  Jasmine’s red face, however, grew still redder.

“Please, Miss Martineau—­yes, Primrose, I will speak—­please, Miss Martineau, we cannot discuss dear mamma with you.  There is nothing to discuss, and nothing to tell—­I won’t—­I can’t—­Primrose, I won’t listen, and I won’t talk.”