The little sitting-room still wore its rose-tinted paper, but the
white curtains at the windows had assumed a decided and permanent tint
of yellow, and the fog found its way in through the badly-fitting
attic windows, and made the whole room look cloudy. The girls' faces,
too, had altered with the months. Jasmine had lost a good deal of her
vivacity, her expression was slightly fretful, and she no longer
looked the spruce and sparkling little lass who had gone away from
Rosebury in the summer. Primrose had lost the faint color which used
to tinge her cheeks; they were now almost too white for beauty, but
her eyes were still clear, calm, and sweet; her dress was still the
essence of simplicity and neatness, and her bearing was gentle and
dignified as of old. The alteration in Daisy was less apparent at this
moment, for she was stretched on two cushions in one corner of the
sitting-room, and with a warm rug thrown over her, and with the Pink
curled up in her arms, was fast asleep.
"How cold it is, Primrose," repeated Jasmine; then, as her sister made
no reply, but went on calmly darning some stockings, she continued, "I
think you have really grown stingy.
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