Primrose, her head a little more erect than usual, her step firm, and a proud bright light in her eyes, went quickly down the little rambling village street. The plain black dress she wore set off her yellow hair and extremely fair complexion to the best advantage. She had never looked sweeter or more independent than at this moment, when, for the first time in her young life, she was about to ask for help.

Mr. Danesfield was not so busy this morning, and he saw his young visitor without delay.

"Sit down, my dear," he said; "I am very pleased to see you. You want to ask for my advice? I will give it with the greatest pleasure."

Primrose raised her head slowly. "I have been thinking over what you said yesterday," she began. "As it is quite impossible for my sisters and me to live on our little income, even with the help of what you have in the bank, we must try to help ourselves, must we not?"

"This is a brave thought, my dear—of course you must help yourselves, and you will be none the worse for doing so."

"We must earn money," continued Primrose. "How can girls like us, who are not educated—for I know we are not really educated—add to our incomes?"

Mr. Danesfield knit his brows. "Child," he said, "you ask me a puzzler. I have no children of my own, and I know very little about young folk. Of one thing, however, I am quite certain; Daisy can earn no money, nor can Jasmine. You, Primrose, might with some difficulty get a little place as a nursery governess; you are a nice, presentable-looking girl, my dear."

Primrose flushed, and the tears, wrung from great pain, came into her eyes.

"There is just one thing," she said, in a tremulous voice; "whatever happens, we three girls won't be parted. On that point I have quite firmly made up my mind."

Mr. Danesfield again knit his brows, and this time he fidgeted uneasily on his chair.

"Look here, Primrose," he said: "I am an old bachelor, and I don't know half nor a quarter the ways in which a woman may earn her living. I have always been told that a woman is a creature of resources. Now it is a well-known fact that an old bachelor has no resources. You go and put your question to Miss Martineau, my dear. Miss Martineau is a kind soul—'pon my word, now, a very kind soul—and she has managed wonderfully to exist herself on absolutely nothing. You go to Miss Martineau, Primrose, and get some secrets from her. Everything in my power you may depend on my doing. I will exert my interest, and my purse is at your service."

Here Primrose got up.

"Good-bye, Mr. Danesfield," she said. "I know you mean to be very kind, but we three must keep together, and we must be independent." Then she left the office, and went again down the street.

Mr. Danesfield looked after her as she walked away.

"Poor, proud young thing!" he said to himself. "Life will be a tussle for her, or I am much mistaken. She is really growing wonderfully nice-looking, too. How she flushed up when I said she was presentable—poor child! poor child! That mother of theirs might have done something to prov............