ove had hastily fastened up the letter, trusting to no one's noticing
that it had been opened. Again he reached Miss Egerton's house; again
he made his way from the roof to the upper landing, and from the upper
landing to the girls' rooms; the letter was not placed on the table,
but was skilfully slipped down between some books which lay in a pile
on Jasmine's little writing-table. It might have been put there by
any one who was dusting the room, and it might have lain in its
present position unseen for many days. Dove hoped no one would
perceive it; he scowled at the poor little Pink, who crouched away
from him, and turning on his heel again, left the room.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

_THE JOY-BELL_.

It is to be feared that Poppy stole away from her work that morning.
Poor Poppy was getting into a sadly defiant mood. She was getting
thoroughly tired of her aunt, Mrs. Flint, and when Jasmine appeared
and said a few coaxing words the naughty girl left her work undone,
disregarded the many cries for Sarah Ann and Sarah Maria, and putting
on her brilliant hat and her smart jacket, sallied forth citywards
with Jasmine and Daisy. In due time the three reached the office of
_The Joy-bell_ and were admitted into the presence of the editor.

"You musn't let me accept too low terms, Poppy," said Jasmine, as they
were going in at the door.

Poppy nodded very brightly in reply, and Jasmine took the seat the
editor offered her with a certain little air of modest elation.

"I got your note," she began, "and I thought you'd like to see me
immediately, so I came. This is my sister; she knows all about it;
she's in the story herself. I've drawn all my characters from the
life; and my friend, Poppy Jenkins--you saw her a fortnight ago--she's
in the book too."

The editor--Mr. Potter was his name--had a habit of waving his hand
when anything that he considered superfluous was being said; he now
waved both Daisy and Poppy into the background, and addressed himself
to Jasmine in a style which, as she said afterwards, riveted her
attention on the spot.

"I wrote to you, Miss Mainwaring," he said, "because I saw germs of
promise in your composition--it is young, of course, for you are very
young, but it is fresh, and with due correctness, which I myself am
willing to supply, I do not see why 'The Pursuit of Happiness' should
not appear in our journal. We publish, however, only under certain
conditions, and before I make any offer for