CHAPTER XVII.
ESCORTED BY MISS SLOWCUM.
"Within the house at least," remarked Poppy Jenkins, "it ain't what we dreamt of." She was standing the next morning in the room where the three sisters had slept--it was early, only five o'clock in the morning, but this was Poppy's London hour for rising.

Jasmine was sitting up in bed and regarding her earnestly, Primrose was also awake, but Daisy slept like a cherub.
"It ain't what we dreamt of," continued Poppy--"it's work, and it's dirt, and it's dust, and it's smuts.

Oh, my word! the smuts is enough to turn one crazy.

Nothing is white here, as you calls white in the country--speckled is more the word.

No, no.