Primrose did
not know whether her teacher was good or bad, or whether she was
paying too much or too little--she resolved to take the lessons and to
spend some of her little capital in buying the necessary materials.
"After I've had my twelve lessons Mr. Jones thinks I may begin to
offer some of my plates and things for sale; he says he will be very
glad to put them up in his own shop window. He thinks," continued
Primrose with her sweet, grave smile, "that I may be able to recoup
myself for the expense of learning at the end of a few months."
"And now," said Jasmine, "what am I to do? It's all settled for you,
Primrose--you will be an artist--and you shall paint a breakfast set
for our nest in your odd moments, and I'll buy it from you when my
ship comes home. Oh! and we are both going to be very successful, are
we not, darling? and we won't have any trouble at all in supporting
our pet Daisy and her kitty-cat. You know, Primrose, my gifts lie in
the poetic and novelistic line. I have really thought of a glowing
plot for a story since I came to London, and Mr. Dove is to be the
ruffian of the piece. I'll introduce Mrs. Dredge and poor Miss Slowcum
too, and, of course, you'll be the heroine, my beautiful sister.
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