with
great relish, calling it, as she did so, a "sweet reminiscence of the
blooming country."

After this little incident the ladies of Penelope Mansion and the
Mainwaring girls became quite friendly; nevertheless the three cried
themselves to sleep that night.

CHAPTER XVII.

ESCORTED BY MISS SLOWCUM.

"Within the house at least," remarked Poppy Jenkins, "it ain't what we
dreamt of."

She was standing the next morning in the room where the three sisters
had slept--it was early, only five o'clock in the morning, but this
was Poppy's London hour for rising. Jasmine was sitting up in bed and
regarding her earnestly, Primrose was also awake, but Daisy slept like
a cherub.

"It ain't what we dreamt of," continued Poppy--"it's work, and it's
dirt, and it's dust, and it's smuts. Oh, my word! the smuts is enough
to turn one crazy. Nothing is white here, as you calls white in the
country--speckled is more the word. No, no. Penelope Mansion is,
taking it all in all, a biting disappointment."

"Well Poppy, Penelope Mansion is not the whole of London," said
Jasmine, in a rather quavering, but would-be wise voice.

"Yes, but it's the London I has got to do with," answered Poppy
Jenkins--"and oh! the worst of all is, that aunt won't have me called
by my home name--she speaks of it most bitter as a 'weed.' She says
poppies are what are meant in the Scripter by the tares. Don't it
sound real awful?--I trembled all over when she told me that. So Sarah
I am here, and Sarah Ann, and Sarah Jane, and Sarah Mary the ladies
calls me. When they're in a very good humor I'm Sarah Mary, and when
they're a bit put out it's Sarah Jane they calls for, and now and then
I'm Sarah Ann--then I know I'm in for a scolding. Oh yes, Miss
Primrose, London is not what we thought it."

"Never mind," said Primrose sweetly; "you'll always be Poppy to us,
dear, and I know the tares were not poppies, so don't you fret--the
poppy is a sweet flower, and Poppy is a sweet name for a girl. Why we
four are all called after flowers, and we must just be very friendly,
and very brave and loving and sweet in this London, and then, perhaps,
it won't disappoint us."

"You're real kind, Miss Primrose," said Poppy. "Yes, it's a great ease
to me to know as you three are in the house. I won't be so
lonesome-like now, and I won't be dreaming that I'm a tare. It's awful
to think of yourself as a tare, but I know now that aunt made a
mistake. Oh, ain't Miss