Primrose determined to do what she had never done
yet since they had come to London--she would commit the unheard-of
extravagance of calling in a doctor.
"I think Daisy is very feverish," she said to Jasmine; "only that it
seems impossible, I would say she has got some kind of shock, and was
trying to conceal something. You are quite sure that you locked the
door when you left her alone here this afternoon, Jasmine?"
"Oh, yes," answered Jasmine, "and I found it locked all right when I
came back. I was rather longer away than I meant to be, for I did such
a venturesome thing, Primrose--I took my 'Ode to Adversity' to the
Editor of _The Downfall_. I saw him, too--he was a red-faced man, with
such a loud voice, and he didn't seem at all melancholy--he said he
would look at the poem, but he wasn't _very_ encouraging. I told him
what Mrs. Dove said about his readers liking tearful things, and he
gave quite a rude laugh; however, I shouldn't be surprised if the poem
was taken; if it fails in that quarter, I must only try one of the
very best magazines. Oh, what was I saying about Daisy? I think she
was asleep when I came back--she was lying very quiet, only her cheeks
were rather flushed.
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