"Daisy," she said, suddenly, "you can go into the garden, and have a romp with the Pink."
"The Pink" was Daisy's favorite kitten.
Daisy laughed aloud, Jasmine started up briskly from the dinner-table, and Primrose, feeling that she had done well, went into the kitchen to consult with Hannah, the old cook, over the making of the cream-cakes.
The result of all this was that when Miss Martineau, sharp at four o'clock (the hours were very primitive at Rosebury), arrived at the Mainwarings' door, the outward aspect of the house bore no tokens of violent grief on the part of its inmates—the blinds were drawn up, not quite to the top, for that would have been ugly, and Jasmine was full of artistic instincts, but they were drawn up to let in plenty of sunlight, the white muslin curtains were draped gracefully, some pots of fresh flowers could be seen on the window-ledge, and a canary in a rather battered cage hung from a hook above, and disported himself cheerfully in the sunlight.
Miss Martineau was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and she did not much like the look of the bay window.
She comforted herself, however, with the reflection that even under the direst afflictions blinds must be drawn up some time, and that she would doubtless find the poor dear girls in a state of tempestuous grief within. She imagined herself soothing Jasmine, holding Primrose's hand, and allowing Daisy to sit on her knee. Miss Martineau was most kind-hearted, and would have done anything for the three girls, whom she dearly loved, only, like many another good-hearted person, she would wish to do that anything or something in her own way.
"Good evening, Hannah," she said, as the old cook opened the door; "you have had a sad affliction—a terrible affliction. I hope the dear young ladies are—" Miss Martineau paused for a word, then she said—"tranquil."
"Oh yes, miss," answered Hannah. "Walk in, please, Miss Martineau—this way—the young ladies is hoping you'll take a cup of tea with them, miss." Miss Martineau found herself the next instant in one of the most cheerful sitting-rooms to be found at Rosebury—it had always been a pretty room—furnished daintily with the odds and ends of rich and choice furniture which had belonged to Mrs. Mainwaring in her wealthy days. Now it was bright with flowers, and the western sun poured in at one angle of the wide bay window. The three girls, in their very simple black dresses, with no crape, came forward in a little group to meet her. In their hearts they were slightly excited and upset, but rather than give way they put on an air of extra cheerfulness. Miss Martineau, fond as she was of them, felt absolutely scandalized—to keep her out of the house for a whole month, and then to admit her in this fashion—such a lot of sunlight—such a heap of flowers, no crape on the black dresses, and Jasmine's face quite bright and her hair as curly as usual. Miss Martineau began a little set speech, but Jasmine interrupted her.
"Do come, and have some tea," she said. "Primrose has made some delicious cream-cakes, and we are all so hungry, aren't we, Eyebright?" turning to her little sister as she spoke.
"Yes," replied Daisy; "Pink is hungry, too—I chased Pink about fifty times round the garden, and she's quite starving. May Pink have some cream in a saucer for her tea, Primrose?"