bove all things, take them away from that awful mansion as soon as
possible.

"Your affectionate Mother-Friend,
"KATE ELLSWORTHY."

But alas! when Arthur Noel, in accordance with Mrs. Ellsworthy's
instructions, went to see the girls, he was confronted first by Mrs.
Flint, who assured him in her soft and cushion-like style that the
young ladies had left, and as they had been undutiful enough not to
confide in her she could furnish him with no address. As he was
leaving the mansion Poppy Jenkins rushed up to him.

"I heard you asking for my young ladies, sir, but it ain't no use, for
they're gone. Flowers of beauty they was--beautiful in manner and in
face--but they ain't to be found here no more. The Mansion didn't suit
them, and the people in the Mansion didn't suit them, and that isn't
to be wondered at. I suppose they has gone to a more congenial place,
but the address is hid from me; no, sir, I know nothing at all about
them. Yes, sir, it's quite true--I misses them most bitter!"

Here poor Poppy, covering her face with her hands, burst into tears
and disappeared down the back staircase.

Noel wrote to Mrs. Ellsworthy, and Mrs. Ellsworthy wrote back to him,
and between them they made many inquiries, and took many steps, which
they felt quite sure must lead to discovery, but notwithstanding all
their efforts they obtained no clue to the whereabouts of the
Mainwaring girls.

CHAPTER XXIII.

DARK DAYS.

"How bitterly cold it is, Primrose!"

The speaker was Jasmine; she sat huddled up to a small, but bright
fire, which burned in the sitting-room grate.

The girls had now been several months in Eden Street, and all the
summer weather and the summer flowers had departed, and the evening in
question was a very dull and foggy one in late November.

The little sitting-room still wore its rose-tinted paper, but the
white curtains at the windows had assumed a decided and permanent tint
of yellow, and the fog found its way in through the badly-fitting
attic windows, and made the whole room look cloudy. The girls' faces,
too, had altered with the months. Jasmine had lost a good deal of her
vivacity, her expression was slightly fretful, and she no longer
looked the spruce and sparkling little lass who had gone away from
Rosebury in the summer. Primrose had lost the faint color which used
to tinge her cheeks; they were now almost too white for beauty, but
her eyes were still clear, calm, and sweet;