One day, about ten days after Primrose had gone to Rosebury, Jasmine
stood by the windows of the Palace Beautiful to watch the postman. He
was coming up the street, and Jasmine greatly, greatly hoped he would
stop at Miss Egerton's and drop into the letter-box, perhaps, a letter
from Primrose, and more delightful still, a roll of proofs of her dear
story. The postman, however, passed on his way, and gave his loud
rat-tat at the doors to right and the doors to left, but neither
sounded the bell nor gave his double-knock at Miss Egerton's door.
Jasmine sighed deeply, and retiring from the window, sat down to her
frugal breakfast. She looked pale, and her eyes were not as bright and
starry as usual. Presently she took out her purse and looked at its
contents. This was Thursday. She had dressed a dinner-table on Monday,
and had received seven and sixpence. Her purse now contained three
shillings, and she certainly could not accuse herself of any
extravagance in the matter of diet.

"This will never do," she said to herself. "I believe if I do not get
any more money I shall be obliged to apply to Primrose, and it was
only last night I heard from dear old Rose saying how glad she was
that I was able to support myself. She said Daisy's illness had cost a
great deal, and we must all economize in every possible manner for
some time. Dear darling old Primrose, I will not ask her to help me--I
will manage for myself. Now how shall I do it? I am afraid those
ladies did not care for the star arrangement of flowers which I made
at that last house. I thought them lovely, peeping out through their
dark green leaves, but I heard Mrs. Lee whispering to Mrs. Mansell,
'How peculiar! _do_ you quite like it?' and then Mrs. Mansell said
nothing more about my dressing her dinner-table. Her dinner-party was
to have been to-day, and she _almost_ promised to have me when I
arrived in the morning. Well, there is no use thinking of that; I
cannot swell my purse in that manner this day, that is very evident.
Oh, dear! oh, dear! what shall I do?"

Here a sudden thought came to Jasmine. Under its influence her cheeks
flushed, and her eyes began to shine.

"Why, of course," she exclaimed; "how very silly of me to forget!--my
hundred copies of _The Joy-bell_ ought to have arrived by now. Yes, of
course they ought, and perhaps I shall be able to sell some of them. I
have no doubt Mrs. Dredge would buy a couple if Poppy asked her and
perhaps Mrs. Mort