"Tired, pretty little dear!" she said; "tired and cold. Ah, I know all
about it."
"No, she's not cold, she's hot," responded Jasmine; "this is the
hottest, closest room I've ever been in. You are Mrs. Dredge, are you
not? Please, Mrs. Dredge, can you tell me how near we are to the real
glories of the city from here?"
"I don't know, my dear--I fancy a very long way," answered Mrs.
Dredge, with a sigh--this sigh was instantly taken up by Mrs. Mortlock
and Miss Slowcum, and Miss Slowcum remarked that the situation might
certainly be considered the worst in London.
"Ha, ha!" said Mrs. Mortlock, "you will have to come down in your
prices after that, Mrs. Flint. Ha, ha! your question was a very
leading one, Miss Jasmine Mainwaring."
Poor Jasmine began to feel quite alarmed, and instantly resolved not
to open her lips again during tea.
The meal proceeded, and very dull it was; nor was the fare appetizing,
for the tea was weak and the bread was stale. The three young faces,
so fresh from the country and from home, began to reflect the general
dulness. Mrs. Flint always made it a rule never to speak except when
obliged--Daisy was nearly asleep, Primrose felt a dreadful lump in her
throat, and Jasmine's dark curly head was bent low, and her bright
eyes were not seen under their long lashes, for she was very well
aware that they were full of tears.
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