ary materials.

"After I've had my twelve lessons Mr. Jones thinks I may begin to
offer some of my plates and things for sale; he says he will be very
glad to put them up in his own shop window. He thinks," continued
Primrose with her sweet, grave smile, "that I may be able to recoup
myself for the expense of learning at the end of a few months."

"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