, pleased, and disappointed.

"Oh, Poppy!" she said, "how light, how very light your purse is."

"No, Miss Jasmine," answered Poppy, "you're out altogether there, for
fifteen shillings in silver weighs more than three pounds in gold.
It's my heart, not my purse, that's light, Miss Jasmine--it has done
me a sight of good to help you, Miss Jasmine; I know he is a cheat in
there, but never mind, when your pretty, beautiful tale appears
there'll be a run on it, I think, and that _Joy-bell_ will be asked
for high and low. You'll pay me back, never fear, and I'll be real
proud to my dying day to feel that I was the first to help you."

That evening, as Jasmine and Daisy sat together waiting for Primrose
to return, Daisy said suddenly--

"Did you soar to-day, Jasmine, when you took Poppy's wages to have
your story printed?--was that what you call a soaring flight?"

Daisy spoke innocently, and with real desire for information, but at
her words Jasmine covered her face and burst into tears.

"What a cruel remark, Eyebright," she said. "Do you know I'm quite
miserable about this; I've been getting more and more wretched ever
since I left that man's office. Suppose, Daisy, I don't sell a hundred
copies of _The Joy-bell_; then I shall never be able to have any more
of my story printed, and I shall never have it in my power to pay
Poppy back. I think I must have yielded to temptation that time;
perhaps I'm nothing but a vain little girl, and think myself cleverer
than I am."

"Oh, I'm sure you're a genius, Jasmine," said Daisy. "I know, for I
have studied your face a great deal; in the story-books I generally
notice that the geniuses have the same kind of face that you
have--they generally have a little discontented, surprised look about
them. I admire the expression very much myself, and sometimes when I'm
alone--for you know you and Primrose have to leave me a good deal
alone--I try to practice it before the glass. I think it's mostly
done with a rise of the eyebrows, but I never can keep mine up long
enough."

Jasmine laughed.

"I do hope I am a genius," she said; "I have always longed so to be
one. If I really am, it will be all right about Poppy's money, for, of
course, the public will try to buy my story. It's really rather a
striking story, Daisy. There's a girl in it who does such wonderfully
self-denying things--she never thinks of herself for a moment--she is
very poor, and yet she earns money in all sorts of d