wn at once."

Mr. and Mrs. Dove were greatly concerned when they heard of Daisy's
illness--in especial, Mr. Dove was concerned, and expressed himself
willing to do all in his power for the sweet, pretty little lady. He
said he knew a doctor of the name of Jones, who was a dab hand with
children, and if the young ladies liked he would run round to Dr.
Jones's house, and fetch him in at once.

Jasmine thought Mr. Dove very good-natured, and she expressed her
great gratitude to him for the trouble he was about to take, and
requested him to seek Dr. Jones and to bring him to see Daisy without
a moment's delay. Accordingly, in a very short time the doctor of
Dove's selection stood by Daisy's bedside and pronounced her to be
suffering from nothing whatever but a common cold, ordered some
medicine for her cough, and went away with the assurance that she
would be as cheerful as ever on the morrow. But Daisy was not cheerful
the next day; and day after day passed without bringing back either
her sweet calm, or any of the brightness which used to characterize
her little face. Daisy possessed in a certain degree Primrose's
characteristics, but she was naturally more highly strung and more
nervous than her eldest sister. After a little time her cold got
better, but her nightly terrors, the look of watchfulness and anxiety,
grew and deepened as the time wore on. Daisy's sweet little face was
altering, and Primrose at last resolved to dismiss Dr. Jones, who was
doing the child no good whatever, and to consult Miss Egerton about
the little one. It may be added that Primrose was able to pay Dr.
Jones's account without breaking into Mr. Danesfield's money.

Miss Egerton from the very first had taken a great interest in the
girls, and when Primrose went to her, and told her pitiful little
story, the kind governess's eyes filled with tears.

"My dear," she said, in conclusion, "whatever is or is not the matter
with that nice little sister of yours, I am sure she wants one thing,
and that is change. Now, I am not so greatly taken with those rooms of
yours, Primrose. You remember I paid you a visit at Christmas, and you
tried to show me all the beauties of your apartments. They were
neatly kept, dear, and were clean, and were furnished with some
little attempt at taste, but the ceilings were very low, the window
sashes fitted badly, and there was such a draught from under the
door--and, my dear child, now that you have come to me in con