The Palace Beautiful: A Story for GirlsMeade, L. T.
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The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls
Meade, L. T.
England -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction; Sisters -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Juvenile fiction
Jasmine, who during the first few days had quite made up her mind not
to worry at all about the future, did not much care for these gazing
fits of Primrose's. She wanted to get into the parks. She exclaimed in
ecstasy over the horses, and those picture-galleries which were free
to the public quite enchanted her. Daisy frankly admitted that she
liked toy-shops, and of all toy-shops those which displayed rows of
dolls in their windows the best. Primrose had decided that the three
should have one week's holiday, and it was during this week that they
began to make a certain first acquaintance with London. "It is the
heart of the world," Jasmine was heard to say. "Primrose, it is what
we pictured it; in many ways it is even greater than what we pictured
it. Oh, don't your cheeks glow, and don't you feel that your eyes are
shining when you look down Oxford Street? Yes, it is lovely and grand,
and I think we ought to show poor dear Poppy some more of its
delights."
Primrose was only too glad to give Poppy all the happiness in her
power, and she and Jasmine arranged that they would take the little
girl out with them on another expedition before they settled down
finally to the great work of their lives.
"We'll spend five shillings," said Primrose, "we must not on any
account spend more, but we will be extravagant, and give poor Poppy a
real treat with one crown piece."
"We had better ask her to come to-morrow," said Daisy; "five shillings
seems a lot of money. Do you think there will be enough over,
Primrose, to buy me a tiny, tiny little doll?"
Primrose kissed Daisy, and said she would try somehow to manage the
doll, and Jasmine was elected to go downstairs and sound Poppy on the
subject of the morrow's treat.
The little maiden had made herself pretty well at home in the Mansion
by this time, and she soon discovered Poppy in what was called the
back scullery. The ladies had all finished their mid-day meal, and
were out. Even Mrs. Flint had sallied forth to a distant market to
secure some cheap provisions, and Poppy had the back scullery to
herself. She was handling the dinner-plates in a rather clumsy manner,
and, after the fashion of a discontented little girl, was sighing over
her work, and not doing it properly.
"Oh, let me help you!" said Jasmine, dancing up to her: "I hate
washing china, or delf, or whatever you call it, after people have
eaten, but I like wiping it if the cloths are clean. Poppy, I have
come to you about a most delicious and important scheme."
"Lor, Miss Jasmine," said Poppy, her fingers trembling violently, and
the large dish which she was washing nearly slipping out of them.
"Lor, miss, you do startle me. I was in the dumps, and you are for all
the world like the sun coming out. Why, deary me, the back scullery
ain't by no means such a bad sort of place when you're in it, Miss
Jasmine."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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