"Your story, Jasmine?" said Noel, "and in type? Who did you get to publish it, my dear child? Oh, you must let me read this."
"Another time, please, Mr. Noel. I don't think I could quite bear it to-day," said Jasmine.
Noel looked at her earnestly.
"I wonder, Jasmine," he said, "even though you are in such trouble, if you would be brave enough to help me, and to earn a little money to day? I want you to do quite a simple thing, and something you will probably enjoy. I have never read any of your romances, but I have often noticed that you possess rather remarkable artistic tastes, and that you have a very correct eye for the arrangement of color. I have been struck with this even in this little room, and I happened to mention my observations one day to a lady who is a friend of mine. That lady is giving a dinner-party to-night, and she wants some one to arrange the flowers on her table in as fresh and new a style as possible. Will you come with me to her house now, and see what you can do? She will provide you with the flowers and the glasses to put them into, and you can arrange them on the table just as you like best. She will give you a guinea for the work, and I think you will find it light and pleasant."
Jasmine's eyes began to sparkle.
"Oh! at another time it would be delightful," she said.
"But don't you want a guinea very badly now? Don't you think you had better put on your hat and come away with me, and try to earn it?"
"I will," said Jasmine, with sudden enthusiasm. "Oh, Mr. Noel, how good you are! How I wish I had a brother, and that you were he!"
Noel took Jasmine to his friend's house, where the little girl began by being almost frightened, but soon forgot herself in the strong interest of her pleasant work. Noel was right when he said Jasmine had true artistic instincts. Certainly, hers was untaught genius, but her unerring taste came to her aid, and Mrs. Daintree's dinner-table never looked prettier or fresher than when the little maiden had completed her work. The room was bright and sunny, but Jasmine gave the table a bower-like and cool effect, and she not only dressed the dinner-table but placed flowers here and there about the room. Mrs. Daintree was delighted, and asked the pretty little girl to come again to arrange a dinner-table for her the following week.
With her golden sovereign and her shilling tucked tightly away in her glove Jasmine did not feel altogether miserable as she went home; even though Daisy might still be lost, those first earnings were sweet. She rushed upstairs and told her tale to Poppy, who sympathized most warmly with her. Very soon after her arrival a four-wheeler was heard to draw up to the door, and Mrs. Dredge alone returned.