I begin to suspect," said Primrose, "that London, like all places,
has its shady side and its bright side. We are in the shady side at
present, dear Jasmine--that is all."

Mrs. Dove had not only lodgers who seemed to worry her from morning to
night--for, unlike her name, she was always fretting or scolding
somebody--but she also had a husband, and this husband made his
presence felt by every lodger in the house. He was often away for a
whole week at a time, and then comparative peace reigned in No. 10;
but he would come back at unexpected moments--he would enter the
house, singing out, in a loud rasping voice--

"Mrs. Dove,
My only love!"

And then poor Mrs. Dove would get flushed and uncomfortable and lose
what little self-possession she ever had, and would own in confidence
to the first floor, or the second floor, or the attics, just as they
happened to be present, that Mr. Dove's honeyed phrases were only
words after all, and meant quite the contrary.

The girls were not a week at No. 10, Eden Street, before it became
very apparent to them that there was little of the real Eden to be
found in the place. They kept themselves, however, quite apart from
the other lodgers; they began to get out their books and their
employments, and what with housekeeping, and what with cleaning their
rooms, and going out for long rambling walks in all directions, they
were busy from morning to night. Primrose said they would spend a
fortnight in the attics, and then the education which was by-and-by to
lead to bread-winning must commence. Never did three more ignorant
girls gird themselves for the fray. Primrose had a natural love for
painting. She had none of the knowledge, none of the grounding, which
is essential for real success in all departments of art in the present
day; but she had a quick and correct eye for color, and all that Miss
Martineau knew she had imparted to her. Primrose looked in at the shop
windows, and saw the lovely painted china, and resolved to take
lessons in this art. After some little difficulty, and after
questioning first Mrs. Dove, and finally the much-dreaded Mr. Dove,
she was directed to a teacher, who promised to instruct her at the
rate of three pounds three shillings for twelve lessons. Primrose did
not know whether her teacher was good or bad, or whether she was
paying too much or too little--she resolved to take the lessons and to
spend some of her little capital in buying the necess