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The Palace Beautiful by L. T. Meade

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"Oh, no, miss! we have only to go down Newgate Street, and there you
are. It's a queer place, is Paternoster Row, not that I knows much
about it."

"A mighty bookish place," took up the other neighbor "they say they
are all bookworms that live there, and that they are as dry as bits of
parchment. I shouldn't say that a bright little miss like you had any
call to go near such a place."

Jasmine drew herself up, and her face became sunshiny once more.

"You would not think," she began, with an air of modest pride, "that I
belong to the booky and the parchmenty people, but I do. I am going
down the Row to inquire about one of my publications, perhaps I ought
to say my first, so I am anxious about it."

"Lor', who would have thought it!" exclaimed both the ladies, but they
instantly fell back and seemed to think it better to leave so
alarmedly learned a little girl alone. For the remainder of the ride
they talked across Jasmine about the price of onions, and where the
cheapest bacon was to be purchased, and they both breathed a sigh of
relief when she stepped out into the rain and they could once more
expand themselves in the space which she had occupied.

Meanwhile the forlorn little adventurer walked down the narrow path of
this celebrated Row. It was still raining heavily, and Jasmine's
umbrella had several rents in its canopy. Now that she was so close to
her destination she began to feel strangely nervous, and many fears
hitherto unknown beset her. Suppose, after all, _The Joy-bell_ which
contained the first portion of her story had not had a large success;
suppose, after all, the public were not so delighted with her flowing
words. Perhaps the editor would receive her very coldly, and would
tell her what a loss her story had been, and how indisposed he felt to
go on with it. If this was the case she never, never would have
courage to ask him to give her Poppy's wages. If the editor scolded
her she felt that she would be incapable of saying a word in her own
defence. Nay, she thought it extremely probable that then and there
she would burst into tears. Undoubtedly, she was in a very low frame
of mind to-day. She, as well as Poppy, had her low fit on, and she
greatly trembled for the result of the coming interview. Since that
pathetic little last speech of Poppy's about her broken boots Jasmine
had quite forgotten how sorely she needed money for herself. Her one
and only desire just now was to restore Poppy's money.

"I must do it," she said to herself; "I must do it, and I will. I have
made up my mind, and I really need not be so frightened. After all,
Poppy and Daisy are both quite sure that I am a genius. Daisy says
that I have got the face of a genius, and Poppy was in such great,
great delight at my story. It is not likely that they would both be
wrong, and Poppy is a person of great discernment. I must cheer up and
believe what they told me. I daresay Poppy is right, and London is
half-flooded with my story. Ah, here I am at the entrance of the court
where the editor of _The Joy-bell_ lives. How funny it is to be here
all alone. I really feel quite like a heroine. Now I am at the
office--how queer, how very queer--I do not see any _Joy-bells_
pressed up against the window. No, not a single one; there are lots of
other books and papers, but no _Joy-bells_. Dear, dear! my heart does
beat, for I am thinking that perhaps Poppy is right, and that all the
copies of _The Joy-bells_ are bought up; that, of course, is on
account of my story." Then Jasmine entered the house, and went into a
little office where a red-haired boy was sitting on a high stool
before a dirty-looking desk. The boy had a facetious and rather
unpleasant face, and was certainly not remarkable for good manners.

"I want to see the editor of _The Joy-bell_," asked Jasmine, in as
firm a tone as she could command.

The red-haired boy raised his eyes from a huge ledger which he was
pretending to occupy himself over, and said, "Can't see him," in a
laconic tone, and dropped his eyes again.

"But why?" asked Jasmine, somewhat indignantly. "I have particular
business with him; it is most necessary that I should see him. Pray,
let him know that I am here."

"Very sorry," replied the boy, "but can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause he ain't in town."

"Oh!"

Poor Jasmine fell back a pace or two; then she resumed in a different
tone--

"I am very much disappointed; there is a story of mine in _The
Joy-bell_, and I wanted to speak to him about it. It was very
important, indeed," she added, in so sad a voice that the red-haired
boy gazed at her in some astonishment.

"My word," he said, "then you do not know?"

"Don't know what?"

"Why, we has had a funeral here."

"A funeral--oh, dear! oh, dear! is the editor of _The Joy-bell_ dead?"

Here the red-haired boy burst into a peal of irrepressible laughter.

"Dead! he ain't dead, but _The Joy-bell_ is; we had her funeral last
week."

Poor Jasmine staggered against the wall, and her pretty face became
ghastly white.

"Oh, boy," she said, "do tell me about it; how can _The Joy-bell_ be
dead, and have a funeral? Oh, please, don't jest with me, for it's so
important."

The genuine distress in her tones touched at last some vulnerable
point in the facetious office-boy's breast.

"I'm real sorry for you, miss," he said, "particular as you seems so
cut up; but what I tell you is true, and you had better know it. That
editor has gone, and _The Joy-bell_ is decently interred. I was at her
birth, and I was at her funeral. She had a short life, and was never
up to much. I never guessed she'd hold out as long as she did; but the
editor was a cute one, and for a time he bamboozled his authors, and
managed to live on them. Yes, _The Joy-bell_ is in her quiet grave at
last, and can't do no more harm to nobody. Lor', miss, I wouldn't
take on if I was you, you'd soon get accustomed to it if you had a
desk at an office like this. In at the births, and in at the deaths am
I, and I don't make no count of one or t'other. Why, now, there was
_The Stranger_--which went in for pictorial get up, and was truly
elegant--it only lasted six months; and there was _The Ocean Wave_,
which did not even live as long. And there was _Merrie Lassie_--oh,
their names is legion. We'll have another started in no time. So you
must be going, miss? Well, good morning. If I was you, miss, I
wouldn't send no more stories to this yere office."




CHAPTER XLVIII.

ONE SHOE OFF AND ONE SHOE ON.


"I must see you, Poppy--I must see you, and I can't come into the
house. I could not face Mrs. Mortlock, nor Mrs. Dredge, nor Miss
Slowcum. I am a dreadful failure, Poppy, a dreadful, dreadful failure,
and I cannot look any one in the face. Do come out with me, dear
Poppy, and at once; for if I can't speak to you at the present moment
my heart will break."

"They're teaing just now," said Poppy, in a reflective tone; "they are
all in the dining-room as snug as possible over their high tea. They
have shrimps for tea, and a wonderful new kind of paste that Aunt
Flint brought in to-day. It's called Gentlemen's Relish, and eats well
on hot toast, and I made a lot. Oh, my! won't the ladies go in for it!
Though Miss Slowcum always is so bitter against gentlemen, she will
eat their relish, and no mistake. Well, Miss Jasmine they are all
engaged over the pleasures of the social board, and what's to hinder
you and me going down to the back scullery and having our talk there?
You see, miss, if I went out with you I'd have to tidy up a bit first,
and that would take time."

"You are quite sure they won't hear me, Poppy, if I walk across the
hall. Miss Slowcum is dreadfully curious, and if she heard my step in
the hall she would run out even though she was eating Gentlemen's
Relish. I do not want any one to see me now that I am a failure."

"Step on this mat," said Poppy--"now on this; now make a spring here.
There you are. Now we'll be down in my scullery long before Miss
Slowcum can get to the dining-room door. Now, miss, let me put a seat
for you. The scullery ain't so damp to-day, is it, Miss Jasmine?"

"I don't know," said Jasmine, who looked very tired, and almost ill.
"Poppy, dear, I have not brought the one and sixpence."

"Oh, it don't matter," said Poppy. "One and sixpence never fretted me
yet, and it ain't going to begin. You'll pay me when you can, Miss
Jasmine, and there ain't no hurry."

But Jasmine noticed that Poppy moved her little feet out of sight, and
in spite of her brave words Jasmine observed a look of dismay creeping
into her bright eyes.

This slight action on Poppy's part--this little lurking gleam of
disappointment--were as the proverbial last straw to poor Jasmine. Her
fortitude gave way, and she burst into the bitterest tears she had
ever shed.

Poppy was much alarmed, and stood over her dear little lady, and
brought her cold water, and tried to comfort her by every means in her
power.

When Jasmine had a little recovered herself she told the whole bitter
story of her morning's adventure to Poppy. That young person's
indignation knew no bounds.

"The editor must be put in prison," she said; "he must be caught and
put in prison. Mrs. Jones the charwoman has a second cousin once
removed, whose first cousin is married to a policeman, and Mrs. Jones
is coming here to-morrow, and I'll get her to see her second cousin,
and the second cousin shall see her first cousin who is married to a
policeman, and he will tell us what is to be done. That's going to the
fountainhead, ain't it, Miss Jasmine? Never you fear, miss, darling,
that editor shall be locked up in prison, and be made to give back
your money. Never you fear, dear Miss Jasmine, it will all come right
when Mrs. Jones sees her second cousin who has a first cousin who is
married to a policeman!"

Poppy became quite cheerful when she remembered Mrs. Jones's
remarkable means of getting at a policeman, but Jasmine could not be
comforted; she shook her head almost petulantly.

"It's all most puzzling for me," she said, "about Mrs. Jones and her
policemen; it sounds exactly like the House that Jack Built, and I
shall have a swimming head myself if I listen to you. No, Poppy, that
policeman will never lock the wicked editor up in prison; he is a
great deal too clever to allow himself to be locked up. Oh, dear!
Poppy, what shall I do? All your money is gone, and my story is gone,
and I know you are wanting boots as badly as possible. You are a dear,
brave Poppy, but I know you have not a boot to your foot."

"Yes, Miss Jasmine, I has, I has one boot and one shoe; the shoe is an
out-door one, and heavy, and the boot is a light one. Worn together,
they make one walk a little one-sided, and the ladies, in particular
Miss Slowcum, don't like it, but, lor', that don't matter nothing to
speak of; they can't do nothing to me except tack on a few more names
to Sarah. It don't fret me, Miss Jasmine, and it needn't fret you."

"All the same, I am going to get you your money, Poppy. I have
absolutely made up my mind. I don't know how to do it, but do it I
will. I had to come here to-night to tell you what had really
happened; but now I am going home. You won't have to wear that
dreadful boot and shoe together much longer."

After this Jasmine managed to walk through the hall without being
detected by Miss Slowcum; and very tired and weary, in process of time
she found her way back to the Palace Beautiful. She drank a glass of
milk which Bridget had laid ready for her, and ate two or three slices
of bread and butter. Then she went into the little bedroom, with its
three pretty white beds, and opening her own special trunk began to
examine its contents. She was dreadfully frightened at what she was
about to do, but all the same she was determined to do it. She would
pawn or sell what little valuables she possessed to give Poppy back
her wages.

When the girls left Rosebury, Primrose made a very careful division of
her mother's possessions. To Jasmine's share had come some really
beautiful Spanish lace. Jasmine had not particularly admired it, but
Primrose fancied that it would some day suit her speaking and
vivacious face better than it would herself or Daisy. Jasmine had
jammed the lace into a corner of her trunk, and but for the memory of
dear mamma which it called up, would have made it a present to
anybody. But one day it so happened that Miss Egerton caught sight of
it; she exclaimed at its beauty, and said that it was really worth a
considerable sum of money.

The lace consisted of a handsome shawl of black Spanish, and what was
more beautiful, and also rarer, two very lovely flounces of white.

Miss Egerton was quite right when she spoke of the lace as valuable,
but her ideas of value and Jasmine's were widely different. Jasmine
would have thought herself well repaid if any one had given her
Poppy's wages for the old lace; she would indeed have opened her eyes
had she known at what sum Miss Egerton valued it. In addition to the
lace Jasmine had a little thin gold ring which Mrs. Mainwaring had
worn as a guard to her wedding-ring. Jasmine much preferred the ring
to the lace, but she slipped it on her finger, intending to part with
it also, if the lace did not fetch enough money. She knew that
Primrose would be deeply hurt at the lace being sold, for she had over
and over said that come what might, they would not part with their few
little home mementoes; but Jasmine was past caring even for what
Primrose said to-night. With her lace wrapped up in an untidy parcel
she slipped downstairs. Bridget came into the hall to speak to her.

"Look here, missie, is it not a little late for you to be going out?"

"Oh, not at all, Biddy, dear. I am going a little way. I won't be
long."

Then Jasmine went up to the old servant and spoke in her most coaxing
and fascinating tones.

"Biddy, what did you say was the sign of a pawnshop?"

"A pawnshop, Miss Jasmine? Why, bless us and save us, miss, what have
you got to say to such places?"

"Oh, nothing in particular, Bridget, only I thought I would like to
know. I am always trying to get information on every kind of subject.
Is the pawnshop the sign of the three balls, Biddy?"

"Yes, yes, miss--what a curious young lady! There, run out and take
your walk quick, and come back as soon as possible, for though it's
close on Midsummer Day we'll have the night on us before you return if
you are not quick."

Jasmine left the house, nodding brightly to Bridget as she did so, and
the old servant returned to her interrupted work.

"She's a bright bonnie girl," she said to herself, "and hasn't she got
a winsome way? I hope she drank up her milk, for she is looking a bit
pale, and I hope she won't stay out late, for it may turn damp when
the dew begins to fall."

Bridget was busy over her work, and was thinking of Jasmine after all
in only a very lazy and comfortable fashion when a cab drew up to the
door, and Miss Egerton most unexpectedly returned. She was not in the
house a moment before she asked for Jasmine.

"She's just gone out, ma'am," answered Bridget. "She had a parcel in
her hand, and she said she was going out for a run. No, ma'am, I don't
say she's looking at all particularly well. She's very white and
worried looking, and she is scarcely ever in the house. She says she
must improve her mind, and that is why she is out, and she do ask the
funniest questions. Just now it was to know what was the sign of a
pawnshop."

"The sign of a pawnshop?" echoed Miss Egerton; "and did you tell her,
Bridget?"

"Why, of course, ma'am. She said she wanted to know for the improving
of her mind. She had a little parcel in her hand, and she said she
would be back again in no time. Shall I get you a cup of tea, ma'am?"

"No, thank you, Bridget. I cannot eat until I find out about Miss
Jasmine. I do not like her asking you those questions, Bridget, and I
do not like her taking a little parcel with her. The child may be in
want or trouble. I must see to it at once. Bridget, have you any idea
which is the nearest pawnshop to this?"

"Oh, ma'am, there's Spiller's round the corner, and there's Davidson's
in the main road. Now, Miss Egerton, I am most certain Miss Jasmine
wanted to hear about the pawnshop for the sake of improving her mind,
and for that reason only. I wish you would stay, ma'am, and have your
cup of tea, for you look real tired."

But Miss Egerton was gone.




CHAPTER XLIX.

SPANISH LACE.


She walked quickly down the street, hoping every moment to overtake
Jasmine. Miss Egerton had old-fashioned ideas about many things, and
nothing could exceed her horror at the thought of this pretty and
refined-looking child finding her way alone to a pawnshop.

"Poor little girl!" she said to herself. "She must be really in
absolute want. What has she taken to pawn? Oh, dear! this anxiety is
terrible--and yet, and yet, how glad I am to know those orphan girls."

Miss Egerton was very tired, had just returned from the death-bed of
her dearest friend, had certainly heaps of worries of her own; but
that did not prevent her whole heart from going out to Jasmine with an
affection which was almost motherly.

When at last she found the little girl just coming out of Spiller's
pawnshop she laid a trembling hand on her arm.

"Jasmine, oh, my dear child, you have been in there! You have been
pawning something."

Jasmine was in such a depressed state of mind that even Miss Egerton's
unexpected return failed to astonish her. She said, raising two sad
eyes to the good lady's face--

"It was only that old Spanish lace. I always knew it was not worth
much. The man only laughed when I asked for Poppy's wages for it. He
has given me ten shillings, and I am going off with it to Poppy
to-night. Yes, Miss Egerton, I must, I really must."

"What have you tried to pawn, Jasmine?" asked Miss Egerton, when she
could find her voice. "Surely not that lovely, valuable Spanish lace.
My dear child, come back with me into the shop this moment."

"But I must keep my ten shillings," exclaimed Jasmine "Oh! Miss
Egerton, don't, don't! You don't know what has happened to me!"

Miss Egerton took Jasmine's little hand in hers.

"My poor child, you shall tell me all. Jasmine, dear, that lace is
worth pounds. I shall redeem it at once, for my sake, if not for
yours. There, poor little girl, keep your ten shillings, if it makes
you happy."

The man who had lent Jasmine half a sovereign on the Spanish lace of
course knew little or nothing of its true value, and the good lady had
therefore small difficulty in getting it back. She walked home holding
Jasmine's hot little hand, took her into her own pretty drawing-room,
feasted her on many good things, which she had brought from the
country, and finally made her tell her all her sorrowful little story.

"You always said that my writing was not up to much," said Jasmine, in
conclusion. "I did not like you to say it, and I was most anxious to
prove you wrong, but now I know that you are right."

Miss Egerton looked quietly at the excited child.

"My dear," she said, in her gentle tones, "I do not know--no one
knows--whether in the future you will be able to write. Our writers
ought to be our teachers. Do you think you are fit to teach, Jasmine?"

"I do not know," said Jasmine, hanging her head.

Miss Egerton got up, and laid her hand tenderly on the pretty little
curly head.

"This day has taught you a grand though painful lesson, dearest. You
will be better able to write in the future for and because of the
suffering you have gone through to-day. Now, Jasmine, I will say no
more--you must go straight to bed and to sleep. In the morning you can
take your ten shillings to Poppy. Yes, dear, of course it is yours,
and for the present the Spanish lace is mine."

Jasmine, notwithstanding all her troubles, slept soundly that night,
but Miss Egerton lay awake.

"The time has come," she said to herself, "when energetic measures
must be taken. The girls--dear, brave, sweet girls--have undoubtedly
to a certain extent failed. Poor little Jasmine! she might have had a
worse experience than the loss of that silly manuscript. But what
terrible dangers sweet little Daisy ran! Yes, I shall go and have a
talk with Mrs. Ellsworthy to-morrow--I know she is in town."

Accordingly, when Jasmine went off to see Poppy holding her
half-sovereign firmly inside her glove, and dimly wondering if she
would have any money of her own left to buy some dinner with
presently, Miss Egerton stepped into an omnibus which presently put
her down in the vicinity of Park Lane. She was fortunate in finding
Mrs. Ellsworthy at home, and also disengaged.

The good little lady received her with delight, for Miss Egerton was a
prime favorite with her.

"Arthur tells me that you know my girls," she said presently. "He
hints to me that you and he have a secret knowledge of the address of
my naughty, troublesome girls."

"I do know where they are to be found," said Miss Egerton in her
gravest tones; "but before I begin to talk about them I want to
transact a little business with you. I know how kind you are, and how
fond of helping people in distress. At the present moment a lady of my
acquaintance is in great poverty; she has got some valuable Spanish
lace. I should like to sell it for her."

"I adore Spanish lace," said Mrs. Ellsworthy, her eyes sparkling.

"I thought I once heard you say you did, so I have brought it with me.
May I show it to you?"

"How good of you, dear Miss Egerton; let me see it at once. Real
Spanish lace is of great value. Oh, and white, too! What lovely
flounces!"

"The lady to whom they belonged know nothing of their real value; she
was disposing of both shawl and flounces yesterday evening for ten
shillings."

"Oh, Miss Egerton! oh, poor, poor thing! I will gladly give her fifty
pounds for them."

Miss Egerton coughed, and colored slightly.

"The fact is," she said, "I do not think she ought to sell them; they
are mementoes, and belonged to her mother. Mrs. Ellsworthy, I won't
deceive you any longer. This lace is now the property of Jasmine
Mainwaring. She took it to a pawnshop last night, and but for me would
have absolutely given it away; I was just in time to redeem it. Now
the fact is, I happen to know that Primrose does not wish this lace to
be sold; I offered, long ago, to find a purchaser for it, but she
looked terribly distressed at the idea. What I should like to do would
be this; in short, in short--I do not quite know how to put it--"

"I know, I know," said Mrs. Ellsworthy, clapping her hands, "you want
me to be a pawnbroker, and to lend money on it. I will, I will, with
pleasure; oh, this is quite a fresh and delightful idea."

"Give me ten pounds to help the poor child over her present
difficulties," said Miss Egerton, tears in her eyes. "Yes, ten pounds
is quite enough. I will not take a penny more."

"Now, Mrs. Ellsworthy, as we have comfortably disposed of this little
matter, I want to talk to you most seriously about the girls."

Mrs. Ellsworthy bent her head to listen with rapt attention; and the
two women were engaged for a couple of hours in most earnest
conversation.

That afternoon, when Jasmine, very weary and very depressed, toiled up
the stairs to her Palace Beautiful, she found two letters awaiting
her. One was from Primrose, containing very cheerful news about Daisy.
Daisy was really getting better, and had even been out for a few
minutes. The other letter had not come by the post, and Jasmine
wondered who her correspondent could be. She opened it eagerly. It
contained a folded sheet of paper, out of which dropped two crisp Bank
of England notes for five pounds each. The sheet of paper itself
contained the following words:--

"DEAR JASMINE:--I have found a pawnbroker who better understands the
value of your old lace. I have borrowed ten pounds for you on it, with
liberty for you to redeem the shawl and flounces at your convenience.
You can pay me back the ten shillings I lent you last night when you
get change; but there is no hurry. Come and have tea this evening at
six, dear. I have much to talk over with you.

"Your affectionate friend,
"AGNES EGERTON."

Poor little Jasmine's delight can scarcely be conceived. She found it
an easy matter to change one of the notes, and Poppy was in possession
of the balance of her money long before the evening. Her radiant face
seemed scarcely to belong to the same girl when she entered Miss
Egerton's room in time for that good lady's tea.

"Jasmine," said Miss Egerton, when the meal was over, and Jasmine had
exhausted her many expressions of rapture, and astonishment, and
gratitude, "I have news to tell you. That dreadful man Dove has
received a long term of imprisonment. He won't trouble our dear little
Daisy again."

"And Daisy is beginning to get better," said Jasmine. "I heard from
Primrose to-day, and she wrote quite hopefully about her. Yes, I
suppose I am glad that Mr. Dove is locked up; it was so very wicked
of him to frighten our little pet."

"I also had a letter from Primrose," said Miss Egerton. "She is
unhappy because she thinks that I am at personal inconvenience for the
money which I lent her instead of that which Dove stole. I am not
inconvenienced for it--I can never regret making matters a little
smooth for you poor children. I am going to write to Primrose
to-night; but before I do so I should like to have a little talk with
you, Jasmine."

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