"And now," said Jasmine, "what am I to do? It's all settled for you, Primrose--you will be an artist--and you shall paint a breakfast set for our nest in your odd moments, and I'll buy it from you when my ship comes home. Oh! and we are both going to be very successful, are we not, darling? and we won't have any trouble at all in supporting our pet Daisy and her kitty-cat. You know, Primrose, my gifts lie in the poetic and novelistic line. I have really thought of a glowing plot for a story since I came to London, and Mr. Dove is to be the ruffian of the piece. I'll introduce Mrs. Dredge and poor Miss Slowcum too, and, of course, you'll be the heroine, my beautiful sister. I mean to buy some paper, and work away at my novel in the evenings next week; but as we have come up to London expressly to have our education perfected, and our gifts developed, don't you think I ought to be having some lessons in English style? After all, Primrose, I do not think Mrs. Flint's way of speaking was correct. Arthur Noel did not talk in the least like her, nor did dear Mrs. Ellsworthy; and after all, they are a real lady and gentleman. I wonder, Primrose, who would teach me proper style. I wish I could meet Arthur Noel again, that he might tell me!" "Oh, Jasmine, it is dreadful of you to speak of a perfect stranger by his Christian name! Don't do it, dear--I know it is not right." "He did not seem the least like a stranger," said Jasmine, pushing back her curling locks. "Well, Rose, who is to teach me style?--you see, if I am to earn money by my pen I must be polished up. I have got a poem now in the back of my head which would exactly suit the ---- _Review_. It's almost exactly on the lines of one they published not long ago by Tennyson; but I'd rather not send it until I've had a lesson or two from some gifted person here--who shall I go to, Primrose?" "You must go to a school, of course," answered Primrose. "There is a seminary for young ladies just round the corner--we will call there this afternoon, and find out if the lady can give you lessons." Miss Egerton, the principal of the seminary in question, opened her eyes a good deal at Jasmine's modest request. "I don't want French, nor German, nor music," quoth the young lady, "but I do want to be helped to make very smooth and flowing verses, and I want to have the plots of my novels cut up and criticised--for I don't mind telling you," continued Jasmine, looking full into Miss Egerton's deeply-lined and anxious face, "that I mean to live by my pen. My sister is to be an artist, and I am to be a novelist and poet."