She rose to her feet, and, going up to Jasmine, gave her a hasty kiss.
"We'll remember our good old resolution," she said brightly, "not to grumble, not to fret, not to cry.

Ah! here is our dear little birdie waking from her sleep.

Now, Jasmine on with the coals, and let us have a merry blaze while I see to the supper--porridge for you and me, and a nice fresh egg and a cup of warm milk for the Daisy-flower." "The Pink must have some milk too," said Daisy, as she tumbled lazily out of her soft nest of cushions; "the Pink isn't half as fat as she used to be--I can feel all the bones down her spine--I know she wants cream.

Oh, Primrose! I had such a darling dream--I thought the Prince came and found us!" "The Prince, Daisy ?" "Yes; and he had the look of the gentleman we met long, long, long ago at St.Paul's Cathedral! Oh, Primrose, I'm so tired of London!" "Never mind, darling," answered Primrose; "I'm always telling you you are only seeing the shady side at present.

Only wait till Christmas comes, and Mr.Danesfield sends us our money." "I wrote another poem last night," said Jasmine; "I called it 'The Uses of Adversity.' It was very mournful indeed; it was a sort of story in blank verse of people who were cold and hungry, and I mixed up London fogs, and attic rooms, and curtains that were once white, and had now turned yellow, and sloppy streets covered with snow, with the story.