f fame.
London will inspire me; oh, it is the home of beauty and delight!
Where is Mrs. Ellsworthy's letter?--we will never finish it? I am
going to burn it on the spot rather than allow any other idea to be
put into your head, Primrose?"

Primrose smiled again, and before she could prevent her, her impetuous
sister had torn Mrs. Ellsworthy's letter into ribbons, and had set
fire to it in the empty grate.

"We must not be too sanguine about London," she said; "only it does
seem the only independent thing to do. Then, too, there is that letter
of dear mamma's and all that sad account of the little baby brother
who was lost so long ago. Hannah says that he was lost in London--he
must be a man now; perhaps we shall meet him in London. It certainly
does seem as if it were right for us to go."

CHAPTER XIV.

QUITE CONTRARY.

"I have done it, my dear Joseph," said Mrs. Ellsworthy. "I went to see
the children, and I wrote to that little proud princess Primrose. It
will be really very nice if they all come here. We have such heaps and
heaps of money, more than we know what to do with; money becomes
uninteresting when you have so much. I think I have tried most of the
pleasures that money can buy. I have heaps of dresses, and quantities
of jewels, and my lovely country home, and my season in town, but what
I have never yet had, and what I have earnestly longed for, was a
daughter. A boy, after all, has to go to school, and to fight his way
in the world--our boy is at school, and a very good place for him--but
a woman wants a girl of her own to quite satisfy her heart.

"Now it seems to me that I may have three girls. We must keep up the
fiction of Primrose being useful to you in your library, Joseph--you
must give her letters to write, and you must be very patient with her
when she makes mistakes, for the dear child has not been educated,
and will probably make the worst of secretaries. Never mind, you must
try to appear delighted, and to seem as if you never could have got on
until Primrose Mainwaring came to help you.

"Then the little ones--of course they are coming under the supposition
that they are only to stay until I have found them berths in one of
those horrid charity schools for the orphan daughters of military
men--but I promise you those berths shall be hard to find. The three
will insensibly consider themselves our adopted children. Oh, what a
delightful plan it is! and how picturesque I shall feel