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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Girls of the Forest, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Girls of the Forest
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: June 22, 2008 [EBook #25872]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GIRLS OF THE FOREST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+GIRLS OF THE FOREST
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+GUARANTEE
+
+The story in this book is complete as written
+and published by the Author
+
+MACLELLAN .N.Y. COMPANY
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+GIRLS OF THE FOREST
+
+L. T. MEADE
+
+AUTHOR OF ALWYN'S FRIENDS, BEYOND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS,
+GOOD LUCK, PLAYMATES, PRETTY GIRL AND THE OTHERS,
+THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL, ETC.
+
+AKRON, OHIO
+MACLELLAN .N.Y. COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+L. T. Meade (Mrs. Elizabeth Thomasina Smith), English novelist, was born
+at Bandon, County Cork, Ireland, 1854, the daughter of Rev. R. T. Meade,
+rector at Novohal, County Cork, and married Toulmin Smith in 1879. She
+wrote her first book, _Lettie's Last Home_, at the age of 17, and since
+then has been an unusually prolific writer, her stories attaining wide
+popularity on both sides of the Atlantic.
+
+She worked in the British Museum, lived in Bishopsgate Without, making
+special studies of East London life, which she incorporated in her
+stories. She edited the _Atlanta_, a magazine, for six years. Her
+pictures of girls, especially in the influence they exert on their
+elders, are drawn with intuitive fidelity, pathos, love, and humor, as in
+_Girls of the Forest_, flowing easily from her pen. She has traveled
+extensively, and is devoted to motoring and other outdoor sports.
+
+Among more than fifty novels she has written, dealing largely with
+questions of home life, are: _A Knight of To-day_ (1877), _Bel-Marjory_
+(1878), _Mou-setse: a Negro Hero_ (1880), _Mother Herring's Chickens_
+(1881), _A London Baby: The Story of King Roy_ (1883), _Two Sisters_
+(1884), _The Angel of Life_ (1885), _A World of Girls_ (1886), _Sweet
+Nancy_ (1887), _Nobody's Neighbors_ (1887), _Deb and The Duchess_ (1888),
+_Girls of the Forest_ (1908), _Aylwyn's Friends_ (1909), _Pretty Girl and
+the Others_ (1910).
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+GIRLS OF THE FOREST.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE GUEST WHO WAS NEITHER OLD NOR YOUNG.
+
+
+It was a beautiful summer's afternoon, and the girls were seated in a
+circle on the lawn in front of the house. The house was an old
+Elizabethan mansion, which had been added to from time to time--fresh
+additions jutting out here and running up there. There were all sorts of
+unexpected nooks and corners to be found in the old house--a flight of
+stairs just where you did not look for any, and a baize door shutting
+away the world at the moment when you expected to behold a long vista
+into space. The house itself was most charming and inviting-looking; but
+it was also, beyond doubt, much neglected. The doors were nearly
+destitute of paint, and the papers on many of the walls had completely
+lost their original patterns. In many instances there were no papers,
+only discolored walls, which at one time had been gay with paint and
+rendered beautiful with pictures. The windows were destitute of curtains;
+the carpets on the floors were reduced to holes and patches. The old
+pictures in the picture gallery still remained, however, and looked down
+on the young girls who flitted about there on rainy days with kindly, or
+searching, or malevolent eyes as suited the characters of those men and
+women who were portrayed in them.
+
+But this was the heart of summer, and there was no need to go into the
+musty, fusty old house. The girls sat on the grass and held consultation.
+
+"She is certainly coming to-morrow," said Verena. "Father had a letter
+this morning. I heard him giving directions to old John to have the trap
+patched up and the harness mended. And John is going to Lyndhurst Road to
+meet her. She will arrive just about this time. Isn't it too awful?"
+
+"Never mind, Renny," said her second sister; "the sooner she comes, the
+sooner she'll go. Briar and Patty and I have put our heads together, and
+we mean to let her see what we think of her and her interfering ways. The
+idea of Aunt Sophia interfering between father and us! Now, I should like
+to know who is likely to understand the education of a girl if her own
+father does not."
+
+"It is all because the Step has gone," continued Verena. "She told us
+when she was leaving that she meant to write to Aunt Sophia. She was
+dreadfully cross at having to go, and the one mean thing she ever did in
+all her life was to make the remark she did. She said it was very little
+short of disgraceful to have ten girls running about the New Forest at
+their own sweet will, without any one to guide them."
+
+"Oh, what a nuisance the Step is!" said Rose, whose pet name was Briar.
+"Shouldn't I like to scratch her! Dear old Paddy! of course he knows how
+to manage us. Oh, here he comes--the angel! Let's plant him down in our
+midst. Daisy, put that little stool in the middle of the circle; the
+Padre shall sit there, and we'll consult as to the advent of precious
+Aunt Sophia."
+
+Patty, Briar, and Verena now jumped to their feet and ran in the
+direction where an elderly gentleman, with a stoop, gray hair hanging
+over his shoulders, and a large pair of tortoise-shell spectacles on his
+nose, was walking.
+
+"Paddy, Paddy! you have got to come here at once," called out Briar.
+
+Meanwhile Verena took one of his arms, Patty clasped the other, Briar
+danced in front, and so they conducted him into the middle of the group.
+
+"Here's your stool, Paddy," cried Briar. "Down you squat. Now then,
+squatty-_vous_."
+
+Mr. Dale took off his spectacles, wiped them and gazed around him in
+bewilderment.
+
+"I was construing a line of Virgil," he said. "You have interrupted me,
+my dears. Whatever is the matter?"
+
+"We have brought the culprit to justice," exclaimed Pauline. "Paddy,
+forget the classics for the time being. Think, just for a few moments, of
+your neglected--your shamefully neglected--daughters. Ten of them, Paddy,
+all running wild in the Forest glades. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?
+Don't you feel that your moment of punishment has come? Aunt Sophia
+arrives to-morrow. Now, what have you got to say for yourself?"
+
+"But, my dear children, we can't have your Aunt Sophia here. I could not
+dream of it. I remember quite well she came here once a long time ago. I
+have not got over it yet. I haven't really."
+
+"But she is coming, Paddy, and you know it quite well, for you got the
+letter. How long do you think you can put up with her?"
+
+"Only for a very short time, Pauline; I assure you, my darling, she is
+not--not a pleasant person."
+
+"Describe her, Paddy--do," said Verena.
+
+She spoke in her very gentlest tone, and held out one of her long white
+hands and allowed her father to clasp it. Verena was decidedly the
+best-looking of the eight girls sitting on the grass. She was tall; her
+complexion was fair; her figure was naturally so good that no amount of
+untidy dressing could make it look awkward. Her hair was golden and soft.
+It was less trouble to wind it up in a thick rope and hairpin it at the
+back of her head than to let it run wild; therefore she was not even
+untidy. Verena was greatly respected by her sisters, and Briar was rather
+afraid of her. All the others sat silent now when she asked the old Padre
+to describe Aunt Sophia.
+
+"My dear," he answered, "I have not the slightest idea what her
+appearance is like. My memory of her is that she was fashionable and very
+conventional."
+
+"What on earth is 'conventional'?" whispered Pat.
+
+"Don't interrupt, Patty," said Verena, squeezing her father's hand. "Go
+on, Paddy; go on, darling of my heart. Tell us some more. Aunt Sophia is
+fashionable and conventional. We can look out the words in the dictionary
+afterwards. But you must know what she is like to look at."
+
+"I don't, my dears; I cannot remember. It was a good many years ago when
+she came to visit us."
+
+"He must be prodded," said Briar, turning to Renny. "Look at him; he is
+going to sleep."
+
+"Excuse me, girls," said the Squire, half-rising, and then sitting down
+again as Verena's young hand pushed him into his seat. "I have just made
+a most interesting discovery with regard to Virgil--namely, that----"
+
+"Oh, father! we don't want to know about it," said Briar. "Now, then,
+Renny, begin."
+
+"Her appearance--her appearance!" said Verena gently.
+
+"Whose appearance, dear?"
+
+"Why, Aunt Sophia's; the lady who is coming to-morrow."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Mr. Dale; "but she must not come. This cannot be
+permitted; I cannot endure it."
+
+"Paddy, you have given John directions to fetch her. Now, then, what is
+she like?"
+
+"I don't know, children. I haven't the slightest idea."
+
+"Prod, Renny! Prod!"
+
+"Padre," said Verena, "is she old or young?"
+
+"Old, I think; perhaps neither."
+
+"Write it down, Briar. She is neither old nor young. Paddy, is she dark
+or fair?"
+
+"I really can't remember, dear. A most unpleasant person."
+
+"Put down that she is--not over-beautiful," said Verena. "Paddy, must we
+put on our best dresses when she comes--our Sunday go-to-meeting frocks,
+you know?"
+
+"Children, wear anything on earth you like, but in Heaven's name let me
+go away now! Only to think that she will be here to-morrow! Why did Miss
+Stapleton leave us? It is really too terrible."
+
+"She left," said Briar, her eyes twinkling, "because we would call her
+Step, which means step-mother. She was so dreadfully, dreadfully afraid
+that you might find it out."
+
+"Oh, children, how incorrigible you are! The poor woman! I'd sooner have
+married---- I--I never mean to marry anybody."
+
+"Of course you don't, Padre. And you may go now, darling," said Verena.
+"Go, and be happy, feeling that your daughters will look after you. You
+are not lonely, are you, darling, with so many of us? Now go and be very
+happy."
+
+Eight pairs of lips blew kisses to the departing figure. Mr. Dale
+shambled off, and disappeared through the open window into his study.
+
+"Poor dear!" said Verena, "he has forgotten our existence already. He
+only lives when he thinks of Virgil. Most of his time he sleeps, poor
+angel! It certainly is our bounden duty to keep him away from Aunt
+Sophia. What a terror she must be! Fancy the situation. Eight nieces all
+in a state of insurrection, and two more nieces in the nursery ready to
+insurrect in their turn!"
+
+"Something must be done," interrupted Pauline. "Nurse is the woman to
+help us. Forewarned is forearmed. Nurse must put us up to a wrinkle or
+two."
+
+"Then let's go to her at once," said Verena.
+
+They all started up, and, Verena leading the way, they went through the
+little paddock to the left of the house, and so into a yard, very
+old-fashioned and covered with weeds and cobble-stones. There were
+tumble-down stables and coach-houses, hen-houses, and buildings, useful
+and otherwise, surrounding the yard; and now in the coach-house, which
+for many years had sheltered no carriage of any sort, sat nurse busy at
+work, with two little children playing at her feet.
+
+"Don't mind the babies at present," said Verena. "Don't snatch them up
+and kiss them, Briar. Patty, keep your hands off. Nurse, we have come."
+
+"So I see, Miss Verena," said nurse.
+
+She lifted her very much wrinkled old face and looked out of deep-set,
+black eyes full at the young girl.
+
+"What is it, my darling child?"
+
+"How are we to bear it? Shall we fall on our knees and get round you in a
+little circle? We must talk to you. You must advise us."
+
+"Eh, dears!" said nurse. "I am nearly past that sort of thing. I'm not as
+young as I wor, and master and me we're both getting old. It doesn't seem
+to me to matter much now whether a body's pretty or not, or whether you
+dress beautiful, or whether a thing is made to look pretty or otherwise.
+We're all food for worms, dears, all of us, and where's the use of
+fashing?"
+
+"How horrid of you, nurse!" said Verena. "We have got beautiful bodies,
+and our souls ought to be more beautiful still. What about the
+resurrection of the body, you dreadful old nurse?"
+
+"Oh, never mind me, dears; it was only a sort of dream I were dreaming of
+the funeral of your poor dear mother, who died when this dear lamb was
+born."
+
+Here nurse patted the fat arm of the youngest hope of the house of Dale,
+little Marjorie, who looked round at her with rosy face and big blue
+eyes. Marjorie was between three and four years old, and was a very
+beautiful little child. Verena, unable to restrain herself any longer,
+bent down and encircled Marjorie with her strong young arms and clasped
+her in an ecstatic embrace.
+
+"There, now," she said; "I am better. I forbid all the rest of you girls
+to touch Marjorie. Penelope, I'll kiss you later."
+
+Penelope was seven years old--a dark child with a round face--not a
+pretty child, but one full of wisdom and audacity.
+
+"Whatever we do," Verena had said on several occasions, "we must not let
+Penelope out of the nursery until she is quite eight years old. She is so
+much the cleverest of us that she'd simply turn us all round her little
+finger. She must stay with nurse as long as possible."
+
+"I know what you are talking about," said Penelope. "It's about her, and
+she's coming to-morrow. I told nurse, and she said she oughtn't never to
+come."
+
+"No, that she oughtn't," said nurse. "The child is alluding to Miss
+Tredgold. She haven't no call here, and I don't know why she is coming."
+
+"Look here, nurse," said Verena; "she is coming, and nothing in the world
+will prevent her doing so. The thing we have to consider is this: how
+soon will she go?"
+
+"She'll go, I take it," said nurse, "as soon as ever she finds out she
+ain't wanted."
+
+"And how are we to tell her that?" said Verena. "Now, do put on your
+considering-cap at once, you wise old woman."
+
+"Yes, do show us the way out, for we can't have her here," said Briar.
+"It is absolutely impossible. She'll try to turn us into fine ladies, and
+she'll talk about the dresses we should have, and she'll want father to
+get some awful woman to come and live with us. She'll want the whole
+house to be turned topsy-turvy."
+
+"Eh!" said nurse, "I'll tell you what it is. Ladies like Miss Tredgold
+need their comforts. She won't find much comfort here, I'm thinking.
+She'll need her food well cooked, and that she won't get at The Dales.
+She'll need her room pretty and spick-and-span; she won't get much of
+that sort of thing at The Dales. My dear young ladies, you leave the
+house as it is, and, mark my words, Miss Tredgold will go in a week's
+time at the latest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A HANDFUL.
+
+
+The girls looked full at nurse while she was talking. A look of
+contentment came into Verena's face. She shook herself to make sure she
+was all there; she pinched herself to be certain that she was not
+dreaming; then she settled down comfortably.
+
+"There never was anybody like you, nursey," she said. "You always see the
+common-sense, possible side of things."
+
+"Eh!" said nurse. "If I hadn't seen the common-sense, possible side of
+things many years ago, where would I be with the handling and bringing up
+of you ten young ladies? For, though I say it that shouldn't, there ain't
+nicer or bonnier or straighter children in the whole Forest; no, nor
+better-looking either, with cleaner souls inside of them; but for all
+that, anybody else"--and here nurse gave a little sort of wink that set
+Pauline screaming--"anybody else would say that you were a handful. You
+are a handful, too, to most people. But what I say now is this. You
+needn't take any notice of me; you can keep your own counsel and say
+nothing; but if you want her to go--the lady that has no call to be
+here--the lady that's forced herself where she ain't wanted--why, you
+have _got_ to be handfuls. And now I'll go into the house with my two
+precious lambs."
+
+The elder "precious lamb" looked very cross at being suddenly informed
+that she was to go indoors while the sun shone so brightly and the summer
+warmth surrounded her.
+
+"No, I won't," said Penelope. "I am going to stay out with the others.
+I'm a very big girl; I am not a baby any longer. And you aren't to keep
+me in the nursery any longer, Verena. And I won't be naughty. I'll make
+up to Aunt Sophia like anything--that I will--if you keep me in the
+nursery any longer."
+
+This was such a daring threat that, although Penelope was not thought
+much of as a rule, the girls looked at her now with a sort of awe.
+
+"She might as well stay for a quarter of an hour longer, mightn't she,
+nursey?" said Briar.
+
+"No, that she ain't to do, Miss Rose. She comes right indoors and
+prepares for her bed like a good child. Is it me that's to be shortened
+of my hours of rest by a naughty little thing like this? Come along this
+minute, miss, and none of your nonsense."
+
+So Penelope, her heart full of rage, retired into the house with nurse
+and baby Marjorie.
+
+"I hope she won't do anything mean and nasty," said Pauline. "It's the
+sort of thing she would do, for she's frightfully clever."
+
+"Oh, we needn't consider her," said Verena. "Do let's make up our minds
+what to do ourselves."
+
+"I have all sorts of things in my head," said Patty. "The pony-carriage
+might break down as it was coming from the station. I don't mean her to
+be badly hurt, but I thought she might get just a little bit hurt, so
+that she could stay in her bed for twenty-four hours. An aunt in bed
+wouldn't be so bad, would she, Renny?"
+
+"I don't know," said Verena. "I suppose we must be polite. She is
+mother's half-sister, you know. If mother were alive she would give her a
+welcome. And then Padre will have to talk to her. He must explain that
+she must go. If he doesn't, we will lead him a life."
+
+The girls talked a little longer. They walked round and round the ugly,
+ill-kept lawn; they walked under the beautiful trees, entwined their arms
+round each other's waists, and confabbed and confabbed. The upshot of it
+all was that on the following day a very large and very shabby bedroom
+was got ready after a fashion for Miss Tredgold's arrival; and John, the
+sole factotum of the establishment--the man who cleaned the boots and
+knives, and swept up the avenue, removed the weeds from the flower-beds,
+cleaned the steps whenever they were cleaned, and the windows whenever
+they were cleaned--appeared on the scene, leading a tumble-down,
+knock-kneed pony harnessed to a very shabby pony-cart.
+
+"I'm off now, miss," he said to Verena, pulling a wisp of hair as he
+spoke. "No, miss, there ain't any room. You couldn't possibly sit on the
+back seat, for it's as much as ever I'll do to bring the lady home in
+this tumble-down conveyance. Our own is too bad for use, and I had to
+borrow from Farmer Treherne, and he said he wouldn't trust any horse but
+old Jock; this carriage will just keep together until the lady's here."
+
+"But whatever he thinks," said Verena, "do you suppose we can have a
+smart, neat carriage ready to take Miss Tredgold back again this day
+week? You will see about that, won't you, John?"
+
+"I will, miss. There'll be no difficulty about that; we'll get the lady
+away whenever she wants to go."
+
+"Very well. You had better be off now. You must wait outside the station.
+When she comes out you are to touch your hat and say, 'This is the
+carriage from The Dales.' Be sure you say that, John. And look as
+important as ever you can. We must make the best of things, even if we
+are poor."
+
+"You never saw me, miss, demeaning the family," said John.
+
+He again touched his very shabby hat, whipped up the pony, and
+disappeared down the avenue.
+
+"Now, then," said Briar, "how are we to pass the next two hours? It will
+take them quite that time to get here."
+
+"And what are we going to give her to eat when she does come?" said
+Patty. "She'll be awfully hungry. I expect she'll want her dinner."
+
+"Dinner!" cried Josephine. "Dinner! So late. But we dine at one."
+
+"You silliest of silly mortals," said Verena, "Aunt Sophia is a
+fashionable lady, and fashionable ladies dine between eight and nine
+o'clock."
+
+"Do they?" said Josephine. "Then I'm glad I'm not a fashionable lady.
+Fancy starving all that long time! I'm always famished by one o'clock."
+
+"There's Penelope!" suddenly said Patty. "Doesn't she look odd?"
+
+Penelope was a very stout child. She had black eyes and black hair. Her
+hair generally stood upright in a sort of halo round her head; her face
+was very round and rosy--she looked like a kind of hard, healthy
+winter-apple. Her legs were fat, and she always wore socks instead of
+stockings. Her socks were dark blue. Nurse declared that she could not be
+fashed with putting on white ones. She wore a little Turkey-red frock,
+and she had neither hat nor coat on. She was going slowly and
+thoughtfully round the lawn, occasionally stooping and picking something.
+
+"She's a perfect mystery," said Pauline. "Let's run up to her and ask her
+what she's about."
+
+Catching Patty's hand, the two girls scampered across the grass.
+
+"Well, Pen, and what are you doing now? What curious things are you
+gathering?" they asked.
+
+"Grasses," replied Penelope slowly. "They're for Aunt Sophia's bedroom.
+I'm going to make her bedroom ever so pretty."
+
+"You little horror!" said Pauline. "If you dare to go against us you will
+lead a life!"
+
+Penelope looked calmly up at them.
+
+"I'll make a bargain," she said. "I'll throw them all away, and be
+nastier than you all--yes, much nastier--if you will make me a schoolroom
+girl."
+
+Pauline looked at her.
+
+"We may be low," she said, "and there is no doubt we are very poor, but
+we have never stooped to bribery and corruption yet. Go your own way,
+Penelope. If you think you can injure us you are very much mistaken."
+
+Penelope shook her fat back, and resumed her peregrinations round and
+round the lawn.
+
+"Really she is quite an uncomfortable child," said Pauline, returning to
+her other sisters. "What do you think she is doing now? Picking grasses
+to put in Aunt Sophia's room."
+
+"Oh, let her alone," said Verena; "it's only her funny little way. By the
+way, I wonder if Padre has any idea that Aunt Sophia is coming to-day."
+
+"Let's invade him," said Patty. "The old dear wants his exercise; he
+hasn't had any to-day."
+
+The eight girls ran with whoops and cries round the house. Penelope
+picked her grasses with more determination than ever. Her small, straight
+mouth made a scarlet line, so tightly was it shut.
+
+"I am only seven, but I'm monstrous clever," she whispered to herself. "I
+am going to have my own way. I'll love poor Aunt Sophy. Yes, I will. I'll
+kiss her, and I'll make up to her, and I'll keep her room full of lovely
+grasses."
+
+Meanwhile the other girls burst into the study. A voice was heard
+murmuring rapidly as they approached. A silvery-white head was bending
+over a page, and some words in Latin came like a stream, with a very
+beautiful pronunciation, from the scholar's lips.
+
+"Ah, Verena!" he said, "I think I have got the right lines now. Shall I
+read them to you?"
+
+Mr. Dale began. He got through about one line when Patty interrupted him:
+
+"It can't possibly be done, Paddy. We can't listen to another line--I
+mean yet. You have got to come out. Aunt Sophia is coming to-day."
+
+"Eh? I beg your pardon; who did you say was coming?"
+
+"Aunt Sophia--Miss Tredgold. She's coming to-day on a visit. She'll be
+here very soon. She's coming in an old cart that belongs to Farmer
+Treherne. She'll be here in an hour; therefore out you come."
+
+"My dears, I cannot. You must excuse me. My years of toil have brought to
+light an obscure passage. I shall write an account of it to the _Times_.
+It is a great moment in my life, and the fact that---- But who did you
+say was coming, my dears?"
+
+"Really, Paddy, you are very naughty," said Verena. "You must come out at
+once. We want you. You can't write another line. You must not even think
+of the subject. Come and see what we have done for Aunt Sophia. If you
+don't come she'll burst in here, and she'll stay here, because it's the
+most comfortable room in the house. And she'll bring her work-basket
+here, and perhaps her mending. I know she'll mend you as soon as she
+arrives. She'll make you and mend you; and you need mending, don't you,
+dear old Padre?"
+
+"I don't know, my dears. I'm a stupid old man, and don't care about
+dress. Who is the person you said was coming? Give her some tea and send
+her away. Do you hear, Verena? Give her tea, my darling, and--and toast
+if you like, and send her away. We can't have visitors here."
+
+"Patty!" said Verena.
+
+Patty's eyes were shining.
+
+"Pauline!"
+
+The two girls came forward as though they were little soldiers obeying
+the command of their captain.
+
+"Take Padre by the right arm, Pauline. Patty, take Padre by the left arm.
+Now then, Paddy, quick's the word. March!"
+
+Poor Mr. Dale was completely lifted from his chair by his two vigorous
+daughters, and then marched outside his study into the sunshine.
+
+"We are not going to be cross," said Verena, kissing him. "It is only
+your Renny."
+
+"And your Paulie," said the second girl.
+
+"And your Rose Briar," said the third.
+
+"And your Patty," said the fourth.
+
+"And your Lucy," "And your Josephine," "And your Helen," "And your
+Adelaide," said four more vigorous pairs of lips.
+
+"And we all want you to stand up," said Verena.
+
+"Good heavens! I did think I had come to the end of my worries. And what
+on earth does this mean? Penelope, my child, what a hideous bouquet you
+have in your hand! Come here and kiss father, my little one."
+
+Penelope trotted briskly forward.
+
+"Do you like my red frock, father?" she asked.
+
+"It is very nice indeed."
+
+"I thought it wor. And is my hair real tidy, father?"
+
+"It stands very upright, Penelope."
+
+"I thought it did. And you like my little blue stockings, father?"
+
+"Very neat, dear."
+
+"I thought they wor."
+
+"You look completely unlike yourself, Penelope. What is the matter?"
+
+"I want to be a true, kind lady," said the little girl. "I am gathering
+grasses for my aunty; so I are."
+
+She trotted away into the house.
+
+"What a pretty, neat, orderly little girl Penelope has become!" said Mr.
+Dale. "But---- You really must excuse me, my dear girls. You are most
+charming, all of you. Ah, my dears!--so fresh, so unsophisticated,
+so--yes, that is the word--so unworldly. But I must get back to my
+beloved Virgil. You don't know--you can never know--what a moment of
+triumph is mine. You must excuse me, darlings--Verena, you are nearly
+grown up; you will see to the others. Do what you can to make them
+happy--a little treat if necessary; I should not mind it."
+
+"Give us fourpence to buy a pound of golden syrup for tea, please,
+Padre," suddenly said Briar. "If there is a thing I love, it is golden
+syrup. A pound between us will give us quite a feast--won't it, Renny?"
+
+"Only we must save a little for the aunt," cried Patty.
+
+"I do hope one thing," said Pauline: "that, whatever her faults, she
+won't be greedy. There isn't room for any one to be greedy in this house.
+The law of this house is the law of self-denial; isn't it, Padre?"
+
+"I begin to perceive that it is, Pauline. But whom are you talking of?"
+
+"Now, Padre," said Verena, "if you don't wake and rouse yourself, and act
+like a decent Christian, you'll be just prodded--you'll be just shaken.
+We will do it. There are eight of us, and we'll make your life a burden."
+
+"Eh--eh!" said Mr. Dale. "Really, girls, you are enough to startle a man.
+And you say----"
+
+"I say, Paddy, that Miss Sophia Tredgold is on her way here. Each instant
+she is coming nearer. She is coming in the old pony cart, and the old
+pony is struggling with all his might to convey her here. She is coming
+with her luggage, intending to stay, and our object is to get her to go
+away again. Do you hear, Padre?"
+
+"Yes, my dear, I hear. I comprehend. It takes a great deal to bring a man
+back down the ages--down--down to this small, poor, parsimonious life; it
+takes a great deal. A man is not easily roused, nor brought back; but I
+am back now, darlings.--Excuse me, Briar; no more prodding.--Hands off,
+Pauline.--Hands off, Patty. Perhaps I had better tidy myself."
+
+"You certainly would look nicer, and more like the owner of The Dales, if
+you got into your other coat," said Briar.
+
+"Shall we all come up and help you, Padre?" called out the eight in a
+breath.
+
+"No, no, dears. I object to ladies hovering about my room. I'll run away
+now."
+
+"Yes, yes; and you'd better be quick, Padre, for I hear wheels."
+
+"I am going, loves, this moment."
+
+Mr. Dale turned and absolutely ran to the shelter of the house, for the
+wheels were getting near--rumbling, jumping, uncertain. Now the rumbling
+and the jumping and the uncertainty got into the avenue, and came nearer
+and nearer; and finally the tumble-down pony cart drew up at the house.
+The pony printed his uncertain feet awkwardly but firmly on the
+weed-grown sweep in front of the unpainted hall door, and Miss Tredgold
+gazed around her.
+
+Miss Tredgold was a very thin, tall woman of about forty-five years of
+age. She was dressed in the extreme of fashion. She wore a perfectly
+immaculate traveling dress of dark-gray tweed. It fitted her
+well-proportioned figure like a glove. She had on a small, very neat
+black hat, and a spotted veil surrounded her face. She stepped down from
+the pony cart and looked around her.
+
+"Ah!" she said, seeing Verena, "will you kindly mention to some of the
+ladies of the family that I have arrived?"
+
+"I think I need not mention it, because we all know," said Verena. "I am
+your niece Verena."
+
+"You!"
+
+Miss Tredgold could throw unutterable scorn into her voice. Verena
+stepped back, and her pretty face grew first red and then pale. What she
+would have said next will never be known to history, for at that instant
+the very good child, Penelope, appeared out of the house.
+
+"Is you my Aunty Sophy?" she said. "How are you, Aunty Sophy? I am very
+pleased to see you."
+
+Miss Sophia stared for a moment at Penelope. Penelope was hideously
+attired, but she was at least clean. The other girls were anyhow. They
+were disheveled; they wore torn and unsightly skirts; their hair was
+arranged anyhow or not at all; on more than one face appeared traces of
+recent acquaintance with the earth in the shape of a tumble. One little
+girl with very black eyes had an ugly scratch across her left cheek;
+another girl had the gathers out of her frock, which streamed in the most
+hopeless fashion on the ground.
+
+"How do you do?" said Aunt Sophia. "Where is your father? Will you have
+the goodness, little girl, to acquaint your father with the fact that his
+sister-in-law, Sophia Tredgold, has come?"
+
+"Please come into the house, Aunt Sophy, and I'll take you to father's
+study--so I will," exclaimed champion Penelope.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+PREPARING FOR THE FIGHT.
+
+
+Penelope held up a chubby hand, which Miss Tredgold pretended not to see.
+
+"Go on in front, little girl," she said. "Don't paw me. I hate being
+pawed by children."
+
+Penelope's back became very square as she listened to these words, and
+the red which suffused her face went right round her neck. But she walked
+solemnly on in front without a word.
+
+"Aunties are unpleasant things," she said to herself; "but, all the same,
+I mean to fuss over this one."
+
+Here she opened a door, flung it wide, and cried out to her parent:
+
+"Paddy, here comes Aunt Sophia Tredgold."
+
+But she spoke to empty air--Mr. Dale was still busy over his toilet.
+
+"Whom are you addressing by that hideous name?" said Miss Sophia. "Do you
+mean to tell me you call your father Paddy?"
+
+"We all do," said Penelope.
+
+"Of course we do," said Verena, who had followed behind.
+
+"That is our name for the dear old boy," said Pauline, who stood just
+behind Verena, while all the other children stood behind Pauline.
+
+It was in this fashion that the entire party invaded Mr. Dale's sanctum.
+Miss Tredgold gazed around her, her face filled with a curious mixture of
+amazement and indignation.
+
+"I had an intuition that I ought to come here," she said aloud. "I did
+not want to come, but I obeyed what I now know was the direct call of
+duty. I shall stay here as long as I am wanted. My mission will be to
+bring order out of chaos--to reduce all those who entertain rebellion to
+submission--to try to turn vulgar, hoydenish little girls into ladies."
+
+"Oh, oh! I say, aunty, that is hard on us!" burst from Josephine.
+
+"My dear, I don't know your name, but it is useless for you to make those
+ugly exclamations. Whatever your remarks, whatever your words, I shall
+take no notice. You may struggle as you will, but I am the stronger. Oh!
+here comes---- Is it possible? My dear Henry, what years it is since we
+met! Don't you remember me--your sister-in-law Sophia? I was but a little
+girl when you married my dear sister. It is quite affecting to meet you
+again. How do you do?"
+
+Miss Tredgold advanced to meet her brother-in-law. Mr. Dale put both his
+hands behind his back.
+
+"Are you sorry to see me?" asked Miss Tredgold. "Oh, dear, this is
+terrible!"
+
+The next instant the horrified man found that Miss Tredgold had kissed
+him calmly and with vigor on each cheek. Even his own children were never
+permitted to kiss Mr. Dale. To tell the truth, he was the last sort of
+person anybody would care to kiss. His face resembled a piece of
+parchment, being much withered and wrinkled and dried up. There was an
+occasion in the past when Verena had taken his scholarly hand and raised
+it to her lips, but even that form of endearment he objected to.
+
+"I forgive you, dear," he said; "but please don't do it again. We can
+love each other without these marks of an obsolete and forgotten age.
+Kissing, my dear, is too silly to be endured in our day."
+
+That Miss Tredgold should kiss him was therefore an indignity which the
+miserable man was scarcely likely to get over as long as he lived.
+
+"And now, girls," said the good lady, turning round and facing her
+astonished nieces, "I have a conviction that your father and I would have
+a more comfortable conversation if you were not present. Leave the room,
+therefore, my dears. Go quietly and in an orderly fashion."
+
+"Perhaps, children, it would be best," said Mr. Dale.
+
+He felt as though he could be terribly rude, but he made an effort not to
+show his feelings.
+
+"There is no other possible way out of it," he said to himself. "I must
+be very frank. I must tell her quite plainly that she cannot stay. It
+will be easier for me to be frank without the children than with them."
+
+So the girls left the room. Penelope, going last, turned a plump and
+bewildered face towards her aunt.
+
+But Miss Tredgold took no more notice of Penelope than she did of the
+others. When the last pair of feet had vanished down the passage, she
+went to the door and locked it.
+
+"What are you doing that for?" asked Mr. Dale.
+
+"My dear Henry, I locked the door because I wish to have a quiet word
+with you. I have come here--I will say it plainly--for the sole purpose
+of saving you."
+
+"Of saving me, Sophia! From what?"
+
+"From the grievous sin you are committing--the sin of absolutely and
+completely neglecting the ten daughters given to you by Providence. Do
+you do anything for them? Do you try in the least to help them? Are you
+in any sense of the word educating them? I scarcely know the children
+yet, but I must say frankly that I never came across more terribly
+neglected young people. Their clothes are in rags, they are by no means
+perfectly clean in their persons, and they look half-starved. Henry, you
+ought to be ashamed of yourself! I wonder my poor sister doesn't turn in
+her grave! When I think that Alice was their mother, and that you are
+bringing them up as you are now doing, I could give way to tears. But,
+Henry, tears are not what are required. Action is the necessary thing. I
+mean to act, and nothing will turn me from that resolution."
+
+"But, my dear Sophia, I have not met you for years. To be frank with you,
+I had almost forgotten your existence. I am a terribly busy man,
+Sophia--a scholar--at least, I hope so. I do not think the children are
+neglected; they are well, and no one is ever unkind to them. There is no
+doubt that we are poor. I am unable to have the house done up as poor
+Alice would have liked to see it; and I have let the greater part of the
+ground, so that we are not having dairy produce or farm produce at
+present. The meals, therefore, are plain."
+
+"And insufficient; I have no doubt of that," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+"They are very plain," he answered. "Perhaps you like dainty food; most
+ladies of your age do. I must be as frank with you as you are with me.
+You won't like our table. Sometimes we do without meat for a week at a
+time."
+
+"I do not care if you never touch meat again," said Miss Sophia. "Thank
+goodness, with all my faults, I am not greedy."
+
+"What a pity!" murmured Mr. Dale.
+
+"What was that you said? Do you like greedy women?"
+
+"No, Sophia; but I want to put matters so straight before you that you
+will consider it your bounden duty to leave The Dales."
+
+"Where my duty calls me I stay, whatever the circumstances, and however
+great the inconveniences," remarked Miss Sophia.
+
+"Well, Sophia, your attitude and manner and words distress me
+considerably. But I must speak to you again. I am busy now over a most
+important matter. I have just discovered----"
+
+"A gold mine on your estate?"
+
+"No; something fifty times more valuable--a new rendering----"
+
+"Of what, may I ask?"
+
+"'The noblest meter ever moulded by the lips of man.' Bowen is quite
+wrong in his translation; I am about to prove it. I allude to Virgil's
+_AEneid_."
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Miss Tredgold, "is the man staring mad? Now, my
+dear fellow, you have got to put up with me. I can tell you plainly that
+it will be no treat to live with you. If it were not for my sister I
+would leave this house and let you and your family go your own way to
+destruction; but as Alice was so fond of me, and did her best for me when
+I was a little girl, I mean to do my best for your children."
+
+"But in what way, Sophia? I told you I was poor. I am poor. I cannot
+afford a governess. Verena can darn quite nicely, and she knows a little
+about plain needlework. She turned a skirt of her own a month ago; her
+work seemed quite creditable, for I did not notice it one way or the
+other."
+
+"Oh, you man--you man!" said Miss Tredgold.
+
+"And the other children are also learning to use the needle; and most of
+them can read, for all the novels that I happen to possess have been
+removed from the bookshelves. The girls can read, they can write, and
+they can use their needles. They are thoroughly happy, and they are
+healthy. They do not feel the heat of summer or the cold of winter. The
+food is plain, and perhaps not over-abundant, but they are satisfied with
+it. They don't worry me much. In short, it is only fair to say that I am
+not well enough off to keep you here. I cannot possibly give you the
+comforts you require. I should be glad, therefore, my dear Sophia, if you
+would be kind enough to leave The Dales."
+
+"Now listen to me, Henry. I have resolved to stay, and only force will
+turn me out. My heavier luggage is coming by the carrier to-morrow. I
+brought a small trunk in that awful little conveyance which you sent to
+meet me. As to the money question, it needn't trouble you, for I shall
+pay for all extras which my presence requires. As to luxuries, I am
+indifferent to them. But I mean the girls to eat their food like ladies,
+and I mean the food to be well cooked; and also everything in the house
+shall be clean, and there shall be enough furniture in the rooms for the
+ordinary requirements of ordinary gentlefolks. I shall stay here for at
+least three months, and if at the end of that time you do not say to me,
+'Sophia, I can never thank you enough for what you have done,' I shall be
+surprised. Now I have stated exactly the position of things, and, my dear
+Henry, you are welcome to go back to your work. You can study your
+beloved Virgil and gloat over your discovery; but for goodness' sake come
+to dinner to-night looking like a gentleman."
+
+"My wardrobe is a little in abeyance, Sophia. I mean that I--I have not
+put on an evening coat for years."
+
+"You probably have one at the back of nowhere," said Miss Tredgold in a
+contemptuous tone. "But, anyhow, put on the best you have got. Believe
+me, I have not come to this house to sit down with my hands before me. I
+have come to work, to renovate, to restore, to build up. Not another
+word, Henry. I have put the matter into a nutshell, and you and your
+children must learn to submit to the arrival of Sophia Tredgold."
+
+At these words the good lady unlocked the door and stepped out.
+
+As she walked down the passage she heard the quick trampling of many
+feet, and it occurred to her that some of the girls must have been
+listening at the keyhole.
+
+"I can't allow that sort of thing again," she said to herself. "But
+now--shall I take notice?"
+
+She stood for a moment thinking. The color came into her cheeks and her
+eyes looked bright.
+
+"For my sister's sake I will put up with a good deal," was her final
+comment; and then she went into the hall.
+
+There was a wide old hall leading to the front stairs, and in this hall
+now stood the good child Penelope. She had brought in a quantity of fresh
+grasses, and had a piteous and beseeching expression on her face. Miss
+Tredgold took no notice of her. She stood by the open hall door and
+looked out.
+
+"Might be made a pretty place," she said aloud.
+
+Then she turned to go upstairs, sighing as she did so. Penelope echoed
+the sigh in a most audible manner. Miss Tredgold was arrested by the
+sound, and looked down.
+
+"Ah, little girl!" she said. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"I thought perhaps you'd like me to help you," said Penelope. "I wor
+waiting for you to come out of Pad's room."
+
+"Don't use that hideous word 'wor.' W-a-s, was. Can you spell?"
+
+"No; and I don't want to," said Penelope.
+
+"We'll see about that. In the meantime, child, can you take me to my
+room?"
+
+"May I hold of your hand?" said Penelope.
+
+"May you hold my hand, not _of_ my hand. Certainly not. You may go on in
+front of me. You have got clearly to understand---- But what did you say
+your name was?"
+
+"Penelope."
+
+"You must clearly understand, Penelope, that I do not pet children. I
+expect them to be good without sugar-plums."
+
+Now, Penelope knew that sugar-plums were delicious. She had heard of
+them, and at Christmas-time she used to dream of them, but very few had
+hitherto come into her life. She now looked eagerly at Miss Tredgold.
+
+"If I are good for a long time without them, will you give me two or
+three?" she asked.
+
+Miss Tredgold gave a short, grim laugh.
+
+"We'll see," she said. "I never make rash promises. Oh! so this is my
+room."
+
+She looked around her.
+
+"No carpet," she said aloud; "no curtains; no pictures on the walls. A
+deal table for a dressing-table, the muslin covering much the worse for
+dirt and wear. Hum! You do live plain at The Dales."
+
+"Oh, yes; don't us?" said Penelope. "And your room is much the handsomest
+of all the rooms. We call it very handsome. If you wor to see our
+rooms----"
+
+"Were to see----"
+
+"Yes, were to see," repeated Penelope, who found this constant correction
+very tiresome.
+
+"And may I ask," exclaimed Miss Tredgold suddenly, not paying any heed to
+the little girl's words, "what on earth is that in the blue mug?"
+
+She marched up to the dressing-table. In the center was a large blue mug
+of very common delft filled with poor Penelope's grasses.
+
+"What horror is this?" she said. "Take it away at once, and throw those
+weeds out."
+
+At that moment poor Penelope very nearly forsook her allegiance to Aunt
+Sophia. She ran downstairs trembling. In the hall she was received by a
+bevy of sisters.
+
+"Well, Pen, and so you have bearded the lion! You took her to her room,
+did you? And what did she say? Did she tell you when she was going away?"
+
+"Yes, did she?" came from Verena's lips; and Pauline's eager eyes, and
+the eyes of all the other children, asked the same question.
+
+Penelope gave utterance to a great sigh.
+
+"I thought I'd be the goodest of you all," she said. "I maded up my mind
+that I just would; but I doesn't like Aunt Sophia, and I think I'll be
+the naughtiest."
+
+"No, you little goose; keep on being as good as you can. She can't
+possibly stay long, for we can't afford it," said Verena.
+
+"She'll stay," answered Penelope. "She have made up her mind. She throwed
+away my lovely grasses; she called them weeds, my darlings that I did
+stoop so much to pick, and made my back all aches up to my neck. And she
+said she hated little girls that pawed her. Oh, I could cry! I did so
+want to be the goodest of you all, and I thought that I'd get sugar-plums
+and perhaps pennies. And I thought she'd let me tell her when you was all
+bad. Oh, I hate her now! I don't think I care to be took out of the
+nursery if she's about."
+
+"You certainly are a caution, Penny," said Verena. "It is well that you
+have told us what your motives are. Believe me, there are worse places
+than that despised nursery of yours. Now, I suppose we must get some sort
+of dinner or tea for her. I wonder what Betty is doing to-day, if her
+head aches, and if----"
+
+"Oh, come along; let's go and find out," said Pauline. "I feel so
+desperate that I have the courage for anything."
+
+It is to be owned that the Dales did not keep an extensive establishment.
+Old John pottered about the gardens and did what little gardening he
+thought necessary. He also did odd jobs about the house. Besides John,
+there was Betty. Betty ruled supreme as cook and factotum in the kitchen.
+Betty never asked any one for orders; she got what she considered
+necessary from the local tradesmen, or she did without. As a rule she did
+without. She said that cooking was bad for her--that it made her head and
+back ache. On the days when Betty's head or back ached there was never
+any dinner. The family did not greatly mind. They dined on these
+occasions on bread, either with butter or without. Betty managed to keep
+them without dinner certainly at the rate of once or twice a week. She
+always had an excellent excuse. Either the boiler was out of gear, or the
+range would not draught properly, or the coals were out, or the butcher
+had failed to come. Sometimes the children managed to have jam with their
+bread-and-butter, and then they considered that they had a very fine meal
+indeed. It mattered little to them what sort of food they had if they
+only had enough; but sometimes they had not even enough. This more
+constantly happened in the winter than in the summer, for in the summer
+there was always plenty of milk and always plenty of fruit and
+vegetables.
+
+When Betty heard that Miss Tredgold was coming to stay she immediately
+gave Verena notice. This was nothing at all extraordinary, for Betty gave
+notice whenever anything annoyed her. She never dreamed of acting up to
+her own words, so that nobody minded Betty's repeated notices. But on the
+morning of the day when Miss Tredgold was expected, Betty told nurse that
+she was about to give a real, earnest notice at last.
+
+"I am going," she said. "I go this day month. I march out of this house,
+and never come back--no, not even if a dook was to conduct me to the
+hymeneal altar."
+
+Betty was always great on the subject of dukes and marquises. She was
+seldom so low in health as to condescend to a "hearl," and there had even
+been a moment when she got herself to believe that royalty might aspire
+to her hand.
+
+"She must be really going," said Verena when nurse repeated Betty's
+speech. "She would not say that about the duke if she was not."
+
+"You leave her alone," said nurse. "But she's dreadful put out, Miss
+Renny; there's no doubt of that. I doubt if she'll cook any dinner for
+Miss Tredgold."
+
+Verena, Pauline, and Penelope now rushed round to the kitchen premises.
+They were nervous, but at the same time they were brave. They must see
+what Betty intended to do. They burst open the door. The kitchen was not
+too clean. It was a spacious apartment, which in the days when the old
+house belonged to rich people was well taken care of, and must have sent
+forth glorious fires--fires meant to cook noble joints. On the present
+occasion the fire was dead out; the range looked a dull gray, piles of
+ashes lying in a forlorn manner at its feet. Betty was sitting at the
+opposite side of the kitchen, her feet on one chair and her capacious
+person on another. She was busily engaged devouring the last number of
+the _Family Paper_. She had come to a most rousing portion in her
+story--that part in which the duke marries the governess. Betty was, as
+she said, all in a twitter to see how matters would end; but just at this
+crucial moment the girls burst in.
+
+"Betty, do stop reading," said Verena. "She's come, Betty."
+
+"I know," cried Betty. "I'm not deaf, I suppose. John told me. He brought
+her, drat him! He says she's the sort to turn the house topsy-turvy. I'll
+have none of her. I won't alter my ways--no, not a hand's-turn--for the
+like of her, and I go this day month."
+
+"Oh, Betty!" said Verena.
+
+"I do, my dear; I do. I can't put up with the ways of them sort--never
+could. I like you well enough, young ladies, and your pa; and I'd stop
+with you willing--so I would, honey--but I can't abide the likes of her."
+
+"All the same, she's come, Betty, and we must have something for dinner.
+Have you anything in the house?"
+
+"Not a blessed handful."
+
+"Oh, Betty!" said Verena; "and I told you this morning, and so did nurse.
+We said we must have dinner to-night at seven o'clock. You should have
+got something for her."
+
+"But I ain't done it. The stove's out of order; we want the sweep. I have
+a splitting headache, and I'm just reading to keep my mind off the pain."
+
+"But what are we to do? We must get her something."
+
+"Can't she have tea and bread-and-butter? We've half-a-pound of cooking
+butter in the house."
+
+"Are there any eggs?"
+
+"No. I broke the last carrying it across the kitchen an hour ago. My
+hands were all of a tremble with the pain, and the egg slipped."
+
+"Betty, you are too dreadful! Won't you put that paper down and try to
+help us?"
+
+Betty looked at the three faces. In their shabby dresses, and with their
+pretty, anxious eyes, Verena having a frown between her charming brows,
+they made a picture that struck the cook's heart. With all her odd and
+peculiar ways, she was affectionate.
+
+"Are you fretting about it, Miss Renny?" she asked.
+
+As she spoke she put down her feet and pushed the tempting number of the
+_Family Paper_ from her.
+
+"There!" she said; "poor little Miss Dunstable may marry the Dook of
+Mauleverer-Wolverhampton just as soon as she pleases, but I won't have
+you put out, Miss Renny."
+
+"I did want something nice for dinner," said Verena.
+
+"Then I'll manage it. There ain't a better cook than I anywhere when I'm
+put on my mettle. Miss Penny, will you help me?"
+
+"Certainly," said Penelope.
+
+"Well, run into the garden and pick all the peas you can find. There's a
+nice little joint in the larder, and I'll roast it, and you shall have a
+beautiful dinner. Now off you go, dears. You shall have custard-pudding
+and cream and strawberry-jam afterwards."
+
+"Oh, how nice!" cried Penelope, with a little gasp. "Be sure you give us
+_plenty_ of strawberry-jam, and make a very large custard-pudding, for
+there's such a lot of us to eat the things, and I generally get the
+teeniest little bit."
+
+"You are a nursery child, and it's in the nursery you'll have your tea,"
+said Verena in a stern tone. "Go and pick the peas."
+
+"Not me," said Penelope.
+
+She sat down just where she was, in an obstinate heap, in the middle of
+the floor.
+
+"If I are not to eat those peas I don't pick 'em," she said. "I wor going
+to be kind, but I won't be kind if I'm to be turned into a nursery
+child."
+
+"Oh! do let her come to the dining-room just for to-night," pleaded
+Pauline.
+
+"Very well, then; just for once," said Verena.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE LIFE OF MISRULE.
+
+
+Dinner went off better than the girls had expected. But to Miss Tredgold
+it was, and ever would be, the most awful meal she had eaten in the whole
+course of her existence. The table was devoid of all those things which
+she, as a refined lady, considered essential. The beautiful old silver
+spoons were dirty, and several of them bent almost out of recognition. A
+like fate had befallen the forks; the knives were rusty, the handles
+disgracefully dirty; and the tablecloth, of the finest damask, was almost
+gray in color, and adorned with several large holes. The use of
+serviettes had been long abolished from The Dales.
+
+The girls, in honor of the occasion, had put on their best frocks, and
+Verena looked fairly pretty in a skimpy white muslin made in an obsolete
+style. The other girls each presented a slightly worse appearance than
+their elder sister, for each had on a somewhat shabbier frock, a little
+more old-fashioned and more outgrown. As to Mr. Dale, it had been
+necessary to remind him at least three times of his sister-in-law's
+arrival; and finally Verena had herself to put him into his very old
+evening-coat, to brush him down afterwards, and to smooth his hair, and
+then lead him into the dining-room.
+
+Miss Tredgold, in contradistinction to the rest of the family, was
+dressed correctly. She wore a black lace dress slightly open at the neck,
+and with elbow sleeves. The children thought that she looked dazzlingly
+fashionable. Verena seemed to remember that she had seen figures very
+like Aunt Sophia's in the fashion books. Aunt Sophia's hair in particular
+absorbed the attention of four of her nieces. How had she managed to turn
+it into so many rolls and spirals and twists? How did she manage the wavy
+short hair on her forehead? It seemed to sit quite tight to her head, and
+looked as if even a gale of wind would not blow it out of place. Aunt
+Sophia's hands were thin and very white, and the fingers were
+half-covered with sparkling rings, which shone and glittered so much that
+Penelope dropped her choicest peas all over her frock as she gazed at
+them.
+
+John was requisitioned to wait at table, and John had no livery for the
+purpose. The family as a rule never required attendance at meals. On this
+occasion it was supposed to be essential, and as Betty refused
+point-blank to stir from the kitchen, John had to come to the fore.
+
+"No, no, Miss Renny," said Betty when poor Verena begged and implored of
+the good woman to put in an appearance. "No, you don't. No, you certain
+sure don't. Because you looked pretty and a bit coaxing I gave up Miss
+Dunstable and the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton two hours ago, but not
+another minute will I spare from them. It's in their select society that
+I spend my haristocratic evening."
+
+Verena knew that it would be useless to coax Betty any further. So John
+appeared with the potatoes in a large dish on a rusty tray, each potato
+having, as Betty expressed it, a stone inside. This she declared was the
+proper way to cook them. The peas presently followed the potatoes. They
+were yellow with age, for they ought to have been eaten at least a week
+ago. The lamb was terribly underdone, and the mint sauce was like no mint
+sauce that Miss Tredgold had ever dreamed of. The pudding which followed
+was a pudding that only Betty knew the recipe for, and that recipe was
+certainly not likely to be popular in fashionable circles. But the
+strawberry-jam was fairly good, and the cream was excellent; and when,
+finally, Miss Tredgold rose to the occasion and said that she would make
+some coffee, which she had brought down from town, in her own coffee-pot
+on her own etna, the girls became quite excited.
+
+The coffee was made, and shed a delicious aroma over the room. Mr. Dale
+was so far interested that he was seen to sniff twice, and was found to
+be observing the coffee as though he were a moth approaching a candle. He
+even forgot his Virgil in his desire to partake of the delicious
+stimulant. Miss Tredgold handed him a cup.
+
+"There," she said. "If you were ever young, and if there was ever a time
+when you cared to act as a gentleman, this will remind you of those
+occasions.--And now, children, I introduce you to 'Open sesame;' and I
+hope, my dear nieces, by means of these simple cups of coffee you will
+enter a different world from that which you have hitherto known."
+
+The girls all drank their coffee, and each pronounced it the nicest drink
+they had ever taken.
+
+Presently Miss Tredgold went into the garden. She invited Verena and
+Pauline to accompany her.
+
+"The rest of you can stay behind," she said. "You can talk about me to
+each other as much as you like. I give you leave to discuss me freely,
+knowing that, even if I did not do so, you would discuss me all the same.
+I am quite aware that you all hate me for the present, but I do not think
+this state of things will long continue. Come, Verena; come, Pauline. The
+night is lovely. We will discuss nature a little, and common sense a
+great deal."
+
+The two girls selected to walk with Miss Tredgold looked behind at the
+seven girls left in the dining-room, and the seven girls looked back at
+them with a mixture of curiosity and pity.
+
+"Never mind your sisters now," said Miss Tredgold. "We want to talk over
+many things. But before we enter into any discussion I wish to ask a
+question."
+
+"Yes," said Verena in her gentle voice.
+
+"Verena," said her aunt suddenly, "how old are you?"
+
+"Fifteen," said Verena.
+
+"Precisely. And on your next birthday you will be sixteen, and on the
+following seventeen, and on the next one again eighteen. You have,
+therefore, nearly three years in which to be transformed from a little
+savage into a lady. The question I now want to ask you is: Do you prefer
+to remain a savage all your days, uneducated, uncultured, your will
+uncontrolled, your aspirations for good undeveloped; or do you wish to
+become a beautiful and gracious lady, kind, sympathetic, learned, full of
+grace? Tell me, my dear."
+
+"How can I?" replied Verena. "I like my life here; we all suit each
+other, and we like The Dales just as it is. Yes, we all suit each other,
+and we don't mind being barbarians."
+
+Miss Tredgold sighed.
+
+"I perceive," she said, "that I shall have uphill work before me. For you
+of all the young people, Verena, are the easiest to deal with. I know
+that without your telling me. I know it by your face. You are naturally
+gentle, courteous, and kind. You are easy to manage. You are also the
+most important of all to be brought round to my views, for whatever you
+do the others will do. It is on you, therefore, that I mean to exercise
+my greatest influence and to expend my heaviest forces."
+
+"I don't quite understand you, Aunt Sophia. I know, of course, you mean
+kindly, but I would much rather----"
+
+"That I went away? That I left you in the disgraceful state in which I
+have found you?"
+
+"Well, I don't consider it disgraceful; and----"
+
+"Yes? You would rather I went?"
+
+Verena nodded. After a moment she spoke.
+
+"It seems unkind," she said--"and I don't wish to be unkind--but I
+_would_ rather you went."
+
+"And so would I, please, Aunt Sophia," said Pauline.
+
+Miss Tredgold looked straight before her. Her face became a little
+pinched, a little white round her lips.
+
+"Once," she said slowly, "I had a sister--a sister whom I loved. She was
+my half-sister, but I never thought of that. She was to me sister and
+mother in one. She brought me up from the time I was a little child. She
+was good to me, and she instilled into me certain principles. One of
+these principles can be expressed in the following words: God put us into
+the world to rise, not to sink. Another of her principles was that God
+put us into the world to be good, to be unselfish. Another one, again,
+was as follows: We must give account for our talents. Now, to allow the
+talent of beauty, for instance, to degenerate into what it is likely to
+do in your case, Verena, is distinctly wicked. To allow you to sink when
+you might rise is sinful. To allow you to be selfish when you might be
+unselfish is also wrong. Your talents, and the talents of Pauline, and
+the talents of your other sisters must be cultivated and brought to the
+fore. I want to tell you now, my dear girls, that for years I have longed
+to help you; that since your mother's death you have scarcely ever been
+out of my mind. But circumstances over which I had no control kept me
+away from you. At last I am free, and the children of my sister Alice are
+the ones I think most about. I have come here prepared for your
+rebellion, prepared for your dislike, and determined not to be
+discouraged by either the one or the other. I have come to The Dales,
+Verena and Pauline, and I mean to remain here for at least three months.
+If at the end of the three months you ask me to go, I will; although even
+then I will not give you up. But until three months have expired you can
+only turn me out by force. I don't think you will do that. It is best
+that we should understand each other clearly; is it not, Verena?"
+
+Verena's face was very white; her big brown eyes were full of tears.
+
+"I ought to be glad and to say 'Welcome.' But I am not glad, and I don't
+welcome you, Aunt Sophia. We like our own way; we don't mind being
+savages, and it is untrue that we are selfish. We are not. Each would
+give up anything, I think, for the other. But we like our poverty and our
+rough ways and our freedom, and we--we don't want you, Aunt Sophia."
+
+"Nevertheless you will have to put up with me," said Miss Tredgold. "And
+now, to start matters, please tell me exactly how you spend your day."
+
+"Our life is not yours, Aunt Sophia. It would not interest you to know
+how we spend our day."
+
+"To-morrow, Verena, when the life of rule succeeds the life of misrule, I
+should take umbrage at your remark, but to-night I take no umbrage. I but
+repeat my question."
+
+"And I will tell you," said Pauline in her brisk voice. "We get up just
+when we like. We have breakfast when we choose--sometimes in the garden
+on the grass, sometimes not at all. We walk where we please, and lose
+ourselves in the Forest, and gather wild strawberries and wild flowers,
+and watch the squirrels, and climb the beech-trees. When it is fine we
+spend the whole day out, just coming back for meals, and sometimes not
+even then, if Betty gives us a little milk and some bread. Sometimes we
+are lazy and lie on the grass all day. We do what we like always, and
+always just when we like. Don't we, Renny?"
+
+"Yes," said Verena. "We do what we like, and in our own way."
+
+"In future," said Miss Tredgold, "you will do things in my way. I hope
+you will not dislike my way; but whether you like or dislike it, you will
+have to submit."
+
+"But, Aunt Sophia," said Verena, "what authority have you over us? I am
+exceedingly sorry to seem rude, but I really want to know. Father, of
+course, has authority over us, but have you? Has anybody but father? That
+is what I want to know."
+
+"I thought you might ask something of that sort," said Miss Tredgold--"or,
+even if you did not ask it, you might think it--and I am prepared with my
+answer. I quite recognize that in the case of girls like you I have no
+authority, and I cannot act fairly by you until I have. Now, my dear
+girls, please understand that before I go to bed to-night I get that
+authority. I shall get it m writing, too, so that you can none of you
+gainsay it, or slip past it, or avoid it. When the authority comes, then
+will also come the happy life of rule, for the life of misrule can never
+be really happy--never for long. Believe me, I am right."
+
+Pauline pulled her hand away from Aunt Sophia's. She ran to the other
+side of Verena.
+
+"I don't like you, Aunt Sophia," she said, "and I don't want you to stay.
+Renny, you don't like her either, and you don't want her to stay. We
+don't believe all the things you are saying, Aunt Sophia. You can't look
+into our hearts, and although you are clever, you can't know all about
+us. Why shouldn't we be wild in our own fashion? We are very happy. To be
+happy is everything. We have only been unhappy since we knew you were
+coming. Please go away; please do."
+
+"You cannot influence me, Pauline. I love you too well to desert you. Now
+I am going into the house. You can discuss me then with your sister to
+your heart's content."
+
+Miss Tredgold went very slowly towards the old and dilapidated house.
+When she reached the hall door she turned and looked around her.
+
+"I certainly have tough work before me. How am I to manage? If I were not
+thinking so much of Alice, I should leave these impertinent, neglected,
+silly girls to their fate. But no--I seem to see my sister's eyes, to
+hear her voice. I can so well understand what she would really want me to
+do. I owe a great debt of gratitude to my beloved sister. I am free,
+hampered by no ties. I will reform these wild young nieces. I will not be
+easily deterred."
+
+Miss Tredgold clasped her hands before her. The moon was rising in a
+silvery bow in the sky; the air was deliciously fresh and balmy.
+
+"The place is healthy, and the children are strong," she thought,
+"notwithstanding their bad food and their disreputable, worn-out clothes.
+They are healthy, fresh, good-looking girls. But this is summer-time, and
+in summer-time one puts up with discomforts for the sake of air like
+this. But what about winter? I have no doubt they have scarcely any
+fires, and the house must be damp. As the children grow older they will
+develop rheumatism and all kinds of troubles. Yes, my duty is plain. I
+must look after my nieces, both soul and body, for the future."
+
+As Miss Tredgold thought these last thoughts she re-entered the house.
+She walked through the desolate rooms. It was now twilight, but no one
+thought of lighting lamps, or drawing curtains, or shutting windows. Miss
+Tredgold stumbled as she walked. Presently she found that she had
+wandered in the neighborhood of the kitchen. She had no intention of
+bearding Betty in her den--she had no idea that there was a Betty--but as
+she was near the kitchen, and as under that doorway alone there streamed
+a light, she opened the door.
+
+"Is there any one inside?" she asked.
+
+A grunt in the far distance came by way of response. The fire was out in
+the stove, and as Miss Tredgold grew accustomed to the gloom she saw in
+the farthest corner something that resembled the stout form of a woman,
+whose legs rested on one chair and her body on another. A guttering dip
+candle was close to her side, and a paper book was held almost under her
+nose.
+
+"I am sorry to disturb you," said Miss Tredgold, "but I have come for a
+light. Will you kindly inform me where I can get a candle?"
+
+"There ain't none in the house."
+
+The book was put down, and the angry face of Betty appeared to view.
+
+"Then I fear I must trouble you to resign the one you yourself are using.
+I must have a light to see my way to my bedroom."
+
+"There ain't no candles. We don't have 'em in summer. This one I bought
+with my own money, and I don't give it up to nobody, laidy or no laidy."
+
+"Am I addressing the cook?"
+
+"You are, ma'am. And I may as well say I am cook and housemaid and
+parlor-maid and kitchen-maid and scullery-maid all in one; and I does the
+laundry, too, whenever it's done at all. You may gather from my words,
+ma'am, that I have a deal to do, so I'll thank you to walk out of my
+kitchen; for if I am resting after my day of hard work, I have a right to
+rest, and my own candle shall light me, and my own book shall amuse me.
+So have the goodness to go, ma'am, and at once."
+
+"I will go," replied Miss Tredgold very quietly, "exactly when I please,
+and not a moment before. I wish to say now that I require breakfast to be
+on the table at nine o'clock, and there must be plenty of good food. Do
+you mean to say that you have not got food in the house? You can, I
+presume, send out for it. Here is a half-sovereign. Spend it in what is
+necessary in order to provide an abundant meal on the table to-morrow
+morning for the use of Mr. Dale, myself, and my nieces."
+
+What Betty would have said had there been no half-sovereign forthcoming
+history will never relate. But half-sovereigns were very few and very
+precious at The Dales. It was almost impossible to get any money out of
+Mr. Dale; he did not seem to know that there was such a thing as money.
+If it was put into his hand by any chance, he spent it on books. Betty's
+wages were terribly in arrears. She wanted her wages, but she was too
+generous, with all her faults, to press for them. But, all the same, the
+touch of the gold in her hand was distinctly soothing, and Miss Tredgold
+immediately rose in her estimation. A lady who produced at will golden
+half-sovereigns, and who was reckless enough to declare that one of these
+treasures might be spent on a single meal, was surely not a person to be
+sniffed at. Betty therefore stumbled to her feet.
+
+"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am; and it's badly we does want some
+things here. I'll get what I can, although the notice is short, and the
+dook's nuptials, so to speak, at the door."
+
+"What!" said Miss Tredgold.
+
+"I beg your pardon again, ma'am, but my head aches and I'm a bit
+confused. I'm reading a most wonderful account of the wedding of the Dook
+of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton."
+
+"I never heard of him."
+
+"He's marrying a young girl quite in my own station of life--one that was
+riz from the cottage to the governess-ship, and from the governess-ship
+to the ducal chair. My head is full of Her Grace, ma'am, and you'll
+excuse me if I didn't rightly know to whom I had the honor of talking.
+I'll do what I can. And perhaps you'd like to borrow one of my dip
+candles for the present night."
+
+"I should very much," said Miss Tredgold. "And please understand, Betty--I
+think you said your name was Betty--please understand that if you are on
+my side I shall be on your side. I have come here meaning to stay, and in
+future there will be a complete change in this establishment. You will
+receive good wages, paid on the day they are due. There will be plenty of
+money and plenty of food in the house, and the cook who pleases me stays,
+and the cook who displeases me goes. You understand?"
+
+"Sakes!" muttered Betty, "it's nearly as exciting as the doocal
+romance.--Well, ma'am, I'm of your way of thinking; and here's your
+candle."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+IN THE STUDY.
+
+
+Miss Tredgold was the sort of woman who never let the grass grow under
+her feet. She felt, therefore, altogether out of place at The Dales, for
+at The Dales there was time for everything. "Time enough" was the motto
+of the establishment: time enough for breakfast, time enough for dinner,
+time enough for supper, time enough for bed, time enough for getting up,
+time enough for mending torn garments; surely, above all things, time
+enough for learning. To judge by the manner in which the family at The
+Dales went on, life was to last for ever and a day. They never hurried;
+they put things off when it pleased them; they stopped in the middle of
+one pursuit and turned to something else when the fancy took them; they
+were unruffled by the worries of life; they were, on the whole, gay,
+daring, indifferent. There was no money--or very little--for the future
+of these girls; they were absolutely uneducated; they were all but
+unclothed, and their food was poor and often insufficient. Nevertheless
+they were fairly happy. "Let well alone" was also their motto. "Never may
+care" was another. As to the rush and toil and strain of modern life,
+they could not even comprehend it. The idea of not being able to put off
+an engagement for a week, a month, or a year seemed to them too
+extraordinary to be believed. They were too young, too healthy, too happy
+to need to kill time; for time presented itself to them with an agreeable
+face, and the hours were never too long.
+
+But although they were so indifferent to weighty matters, they had their
+own enthusiasms, and in their idle way they were busy always and forever.
+To have, therefore, a person like Aunt Sophia put suddenly into the
+middle of their gay and butterfly lives was something which was enough to
+madden the eight healthy girls who lived at The Dales. Aunt Sophia was,
+in their opinion, all crotchets, all nervousness, all fads. She had no
+tact whatsoever; at least, such was their first opinion of her. She put
+her foot down on this little crotchet, and pressed this passing desire
+out of sight. She brought new rules of life into their everyday
+existence, and, what is more, she insisted on being obeyed. With all
+their cleverness they were not half so clever as Aunt Sophia; they were
+no match for this good lady, who was still young at heart, who had been
+highly educated, who was full of enthusiasm, full of method, and full of
+determination. Aunt Sophia brought two very strong essentials with her to
+The Dales, and there was certainly little chance of the girls getting the
+victory over her. One thing which she brought was determination, joined
+to authority; the other thing was money. With these two weapons in her
+hand, what chance had the girls?
+
+It might have been supposed that Miss Tredgold had done enough on the
+first night of her arrival. She had to a great extent vanquished the
+cook; and she had, further, told Verena and Pauline what lay before them.
+Surely she might have been contented, and have taken her dip candle in
+its tin candlestick and retired to her own room. But that was not Aunt
+Sophia's way. She discovered a light stealing from under another door,
+and she made for that door.
+
+Now, no one entered Mr. Dale's room without knocking. None of the girls
+would have ventured to do so. But Aunt Sophia was made of sterner stuff.
+She did not knock. She opened the door and entered. The scholar was
+seated at the far end of the room. A large reading-lamp stood on the
+table. It spread a wide circle of light on the papers and books, and on
+his own silvery head and thin aquiline features. The rest of the room was
+in shadow. Miss Tredgold entered and stood a few feet away from Mr. Dale.
+Mr. Dale had already forgotten that such a person as Miss Sophia existed.
+It was his habit to work for a great many hours each night. It was during
+the hours of darkness that he most thoroughly absorbed himself in his
+darling occupation. His dinner had been better than usual, and that
+delicious coffee had stimulated his brain. He had not tasted coffee like
+that for years. His brain, therefore, being better nourished, was keener
+than usual to go on with his accustomed work. As Miss Sophia advanced to
+his side he uttered one or two sighs of rapture, for again a fresh
+rendering of a much-disputed passage occurred to him. Light was, in
+short, flooding the pages of his translation.
+
+"The whole classical world will bless me," murmured Mr. Dale. "I am doing
+a vast service."
+
+"I am sorry to interrupt you, Henry," said the sharp, incisive tones of
+his sister-in-law.
+
+At Miss Tredgold's words he dropped his pen. It made a blot on the page,
+which further irritated him; for, untidy as he was in most things, his
+classical work was exquisitely neat.
+
+"Do go away," he said. "I am busy. Go away at once."
+
+"I am sorry, Henry, but I must stay. You know me, don't you? Your
+sister-in-law, Sophia Tredgold."
+
+"Go away, Sophia. I don't want to be rude, but I never see any one at
+this hour."
+
+"Henry, you are forced to see me. I shall go when I choose, not before."
+
+"Madam!"
+
+Mr. Dale sprang to his feet.
+
+"Madam!" he repeated, almost sputtering out his words, "you surely don't
+wish me to expel you. You don't intend to stand there all night. I can't
+have it. I don't allow people in my study. I am sorry to be discourteous
+to a lady, but I state a fact; you must go immediately. You don't realize
+what it is to have a brain like mine, nor to have undertaken such a
+herculean task. Ah! the beautiful thought which meant so much has
+vanished. Madam, you are responsible."
+
+"Stop!" interrupted Miss Tredgold. "I will go the moment you do what I
+want."
+
+"Will you? I'll do anything--anything that keeps you out of this room."
+
+"That is precisely what I require. I don't wish to come into this
+room--that is, for the present. By-and-by it must be cleaned, for I
+decline to live in a dirty house; but I give you a fortnight's grace."
+
+"And the rendering of the passage is beyond doubt, according to
+Clericus---- I beg your pardon; are you still speaking?"
+
+"Yes, Henry. I am annoying you, I know; and, all things considered, I am
+glad, for you need rousing. I intend to sit or stand in this room, close
+to you, until morning if necessary. Ah! here is a chair."
+
+As Miss Tredgold spoke she drew forward an unwieldy arm-chair, which was
+piled up with books and papers. These she was calmly about to remove,
+when a shriek from the anguished scholar stopped her.
+
+"Don't touch them," he exclaimed. "You destroy the work of months. If you
+must have a chair, take mine."
+
+Miss Tredgold did take it. She now found herself seated within a few
+yards of the scholar's desk. The bright light from the lamp fell on her
+face; it looked pale, calm, and determined. Mr. Dale was in shadow; the
+agony on his face was therefore not perceptible.
+
+"Take anything you want; only go, woman," he said.
+
+"Henry, you are a difficult person to deal with, and I am sorry to have
+to speak to you as I do. I am sorry to have to take, as it were,
+advantage of you; but I intend to stay in this house."
+
+"You are not wanted, Sophia."
+
+"I am not wished for, Henry; but as to being wanted, no woman was ever
+more wanted."
+
+"That you are not."
+
+"I say I am; and, what is more, I intend to remain. We need not discuss
+this point, for it is settled. I take up my sojourn in this house for
+three months."
+
+"Three months!" said Mr. Dale. "Oh, my word! And this is only June. From
+June to July, from July to August, from August to September! It is very
+cruel of you, Sophia. I did not think my poor wife's sister would torture
+me like this."
+
+"For the sake of your family I intend to stay, Henry. You will have to
+submit. I do not leave this room until you submit. What is more, you have
+to do something further. I want you to give me authority over your
+children. The moment I have it--I want it in writing, remember--I will
+leave you; and I will trouble you in the future as little as woman can
+trouble man. You will have better meals; but that you won't care about."
+
+"The coffee," murmured Mr. Dale.
+
+"Yes, you will have plenty of that delicious coffee. You will also have
+cleaner rooms."
+
+"This room is not to be touched; you understand?"
+
+"For the present we will let that matter lie in abeyance. Come, give me
+your authority in writing, and I leave the room; but if you don't, I stay
+in this chair--your chair, Henry Dale--all night if necessary."
+
+If ever there was a poor, bewildered man, it was Mr. Dale at that moment.
+He did not give many thoughts to anything on earth but his beloved
+studies; but, all the same, when he had time for a momentary reflection
+that he possessed girls, he felt that he quite liked them. In his own
+fashion he was fond of Verena; and once when Briar had a very bad cold he
+sat with her for a very few minutes, and recommended her to try snuff. He
+did not wish to make his children unhappy, and he thought that the advent
+of Miss Tredgold would have that effect on them. But, after all, a
+determined woman like her must be humored; and what were the children
+compared to his own most valuable work? In the days to come they would be
+proud to own him. He would be spoken of as the very great English scholar
+whose rendering of Virgil was the most perfect that had ever been put
+into English prose. Oh! it was impossible to hesitate another moment. The
+woman was in his chair, and his thoughts were leaving him.
+
+"Madam," he said, "you have taken me at a cruel disadvantage. I am
+seriously sorry for my poor children."
+
+"Never mind about that now, Henry. You are, I perceive, a wise man. You
+can rest assured that I will do what is best both for you and for them."
+
+"Very well, madam, I yield."
+
+"You give me absolute authority to do what I think best for your
+children?"
+
+"Ye--s."
+
+"To reorganize this household?"
+
+"Not this room."
+
+"With the exception of this room."
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"You will uphold my authority when the girls come to you, as perhaps they
+will, and ask you to interfere?"
+
+"Oh, Sophia, you won't be hard on the poor children?"
+
+"I will be just to them. You will uphold my authority?"
+
+"Ye--s."
+
+"If I think it necessary to punish them, you won't condemn the
+punishment?"
+
+"Oh, please, Sophia, do go away! The night is passing quickly. I never
+think well by daylight."
+
+"Put it on paper, Henry. Or stay! that will take too long. Give me a
+sheet of paper; I will write what I require. I only want your signature."
+
+Poor Mr. Dale had to search among his papers for a blank sheet. Miss
+Sophia seized his special stylographic pen, pressed very hard on the nib,
+and wrote what she required. Mr. Dale felt certain he would find it quite
+spoilt when he came to use it again. But at last all her requirements
+were on paper, and Henry Dale wrote his signature at the end.
+
+"Thank you, Henry; you have acted wisely. You have your study now to
+yourself."
+
+Miss Tredgold bowed as she left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+TOPSY-TURVYDOM.
+
+
+The fortnight that followed was not likely to be forgotten by the young
+Dales. It would live in the remembrance of each child old enough to
+notice. Even Penelope found the course of events interesting--sometimes
+irritating, it is true; sometimes also delightful; but at least always
+exciting. Miss Tredgold never did things by halves. She had got the
+absolute authority which she required from the master of the house, and
+having got it she refrained from annoying him, in any way whatsoever. His
+meals were served with punctuality, and were far more comfortable than
+they had ever been before. He was always presented with a cup of strong,
+fragrant, delicious coffee after his dinner. This coffee enabled him to
+pursue his translation with great clearness and accuracy. His study up to
+the present was left undisturbed. His papers were allowed to remain thick
+with dust; his chairs were allowed to be laden with books and papers; the
+carpet was allowed to remain full of holes; the windows were left exactly
+as the scholar liked them--namely, tightly screwed down so that not even
+the faintest breath of heaven's air could come in and disarrange the
+terrible disorder.
+
+But the rest of the house was truly turned topsy-turvy. It was necessary,
+Miss Tredgold assured the girls, to have topsy-turvydom before the reign
+of order could begin.
+
+At first the young Dales were very angry. For the whole of the first day
+Verena wept at intervals. Pauline sulked. Briar wept one minute and
+laughed the next. The other children followed in the footsteps of their
+elders. Penelope was now openly and defiantly a grown-up child. She
+belonged to the schoolroom, although no schoolroom as yet existed at The
+Dales. She defied nurse; she took her meals with her sisters, and pinched
+baby whenever she found her alone. Miss Tredgold, however, took no notice
+of the tears or smiles or groans or discontented looks. She had a great
+deal to do, and she performed her tasks with rectitude and skill and
+despatch. New furniture was ordered from Southampton. She drove to
+Lyndhurst Road with Verena in the shabby trap which had first brought her
+to The Dales. She went from there to Southampton and chose new furniture.
+Verena could not help opening her eyes in amazement. Such very pretty
+white bedsteads; such charming chests of drawers; such nice,
+clean-looking carpets!
+
+"Surely, Aunt Sophia," she said, "these things are not for us?"
+
+"They certainly are, my dear," replied her aunt; "for in future I hope
+you will live as a lady and a Christian, and no longer as a savage."
+
+The furniture arrived, and was put into the rooms. Pretty white curtains
+were placed at the windows; the paint was washed, and the paper rubbed
+down with bread.
+
+"Fresh decoration and repainting must wait until I get the children to
+London for the winter," thought Aunt Sophia.
+
+But notwithstanding the fact that paint and paper were almost
+non-existent by this time at The Dales, the house assumed quite a new
+air. As to Betty, she was in the most extraordinary way brought over
+absolutely to Miss Tredgold's part of the establishment. Miss Tredgold
+not only raised her wages on the spot, but paid her every farthing that
+was due in the past. She spoke to her a good deal about her duty, and of
+what she owed to the family, and of what she, Miss Tredgold, would do for
+her if she proved equal to the present emergency. Betty began to regard
+Miss Tredgold as a sort of marchioness in disguise. So interested was she
+in her, and so sure that one of the real "haristocrats" resided on the
+premises, that she ceased to read the _Family Paper_ except at long
+intervals. She served up quite good dinners, and by the end of the
+fortnight few people would have known The Dales. For not only was the
+house clean and sweet--the drawing-room quite a charming old room, with
+its long Gothic windows, its tracery of ivy outside, and its peep into
+the distant rose-garden; the hall bright with great pots of flowers
+standing about--but the girls themselves were no longer in rags. The
+furniture dealer's was not the only shop which Miss Tredgold had visited
+at Southampton. She had also gone to a linen draper's, and had bought
+many nice clothes for the young folks.
+
+The house being so much improved, and the girls being clothed afresh, a
+sufficient staff of servants arrived from a neighboring town. Betty was
+helped in the kitchen by a neat kitchen-maid; there were two housemaids
+and a parlor-maid; and John had a boy to help in the garden.
+
+"Now, Verena," said Miss Tredgold on the evening of the day when the new
+servants were pronounced a great success, "what do you think of
+everything?"
+
+"You have made the place quite pretty, Aunt Sophia."
+
+"And you like it?"
+
+"I think you mean to be very kind."
+
+"My dear Verena, do talk sense. Don't tell me that you don't feel more
+comfortable in that pale-gray, nicely fitting dress, with the blush-rose
+in your belt, and that exceedingly pretty white hat on your head, than
+you did when you rushed up to welcome me, little savage that you were, a
+fortnight ago."
+
+"I was so happy as a savage!"
+
+"And you are not happy now?"
+
+"I think you are kind, Aunt Sophia, and perhaps--I shall get accustomed
+to it."
+
+Her aunt whisked round with some impatience.
+
+"I hope so," she said; "for, whether you like it or not, you will have to
+put up with it. I fully intend to be kind, but I also mean to be very
+firm. I have now got the home in which you live into decent order, and
+you yourselves are respectably clothed. But I have not yet tackled the
+most important part of my duties, my dear Verena."
+
+"Oh, please, Aunt Sophia, what else is necessary?"
+
+Miss Tredgold threw up her hands.
+
+"A great, great deal more," she cried. "I have not yet touched your
+minds; and I fear, from the way you speak, that I have scarcely touched
+your hearts. Well, your bodies at least are attended to, and now come
+your minds. Lastly, I hope to reach the most important of all--your
+hearts. Verena, I must probe your ignorance in order to stimulate you to
+learn. You, my dear, will be grown up in three years, so that you in
+particular have a vast lot to do."
+
+"But I hate learning, and I shouldn't like to be a learned woman," said
+Verena. "Mother knew a lot of things, but she wasn't learned like
+father."
+
+"Good gracious, child! I don't want you to be like your father. To tell
+the truth, a bookworm such as he is is one of the most irritating persons
+in existence. But there! What am I saying? I oughtn't to speak against
+him in your presence. And your poor mother loved him, oh, so much! Now
+then, dear, to return to yourself and your sisters. I presume that you
+would like to be a useful and valuable member of society--a woman who has
+been trained to do her best, and to exercise the highest influence over
+all those with whom she comes in contact. Influence, which springs from
+character, my dear Verena, is the highest power that any one can get.
+Now, an ignorant person has little or no influence; therefore, to be kind
+and sympathetic and useful in the future, you must know many things. You
+have not a minute to lose. I appeal to you for your mother's sake; for my
+dear, dear sister would have liked her eldest child to be--ah,
+Verena!--so good and so true!"
+
+"You touch me, Aunt Sophy," said Verena, "when you talk of mother. You
+touch me more than words can say. Yes, I will try to be good; but you
+must bear with me if I don't take the yoke too kindly at first."
+
+"Poor child! I will try to make it light for you. Now what is the matter,
+Penelope?"
+
+"Please, please, Aunt Sophy," said that young person, rushing up at the
+moment.
+
+"Hold yourself erect, my dear; don't run quite so fast. There! you have
+got a rent already in your new frock. Now what do you want?"
+
+"May I be a schoolroom little girl in the future?"
+
+"What are you now?"
+
+"Nursey says I'm nursery. But I don't want to be nursery; I want to stay
+always with my own good Aunty Sophy. That is what I want. May I be a
+schoolroom child?"
+
+"In the first place, you are not to call me 'aunty.' I am Aunt Sophia to
+you. I dislike abbreviations."
+
+"What's them?"
+
+"Say, 'What are they?'"
+
+"What are they?"
+
+"I will tell you another time. How old are you, Penelope?"
+
+"I wor seven my last birthday, one month agone."
+
+"Your grammar is disgraceful, child. Please understand that the
+schoolroom has its penalties."
+
+"What's them?"
+
+"Again I shall have to correct you. 'What are they?' is the sentence you
+ought to use. But now, my dear, I don't approve of little girls learning
+much when they are only seven years old; but if you wish to be a
+schoolroom girl you will have to take your place in the schoolroom, and
+you will have to learn to submit. You will have to be under more
+discipline than you are now with nurse."
+
+"All the same, I'll be with my own aunt," said Penelope, raising her bold
+black eyes and fixing them on Miss Sophia's face.
+
+But Miss Tredgold was not the sort of person to be influenced by soft
+words. "Deeds, not words," was her motto.
+
+"You have said enough, Penelope," she said. "Take your choice; you may be
+a schoolroom child for a month if you like."
+
+"I wouldn't if I were you, Pen," said Josephine.
+
+"But I will," said Penelope.
+
+In her heart of hearts she was terrified at the thought of the
+schoolroom, but even more did she fear the knowledge that nurse would
+laugh at her if she returned to the nursery.
+
+"I will stay," she said. "I am a schoolroom child;" and she pirouetted
+round and round Aunt Sophia.
+
+"But, please, Aunt Sophia," said Verena, "who is going to teach us?"
+
+"I intend to have that honor," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+If there were no outward groans among her assembled nieces at these
+words, there were certainly spirit groans, for the girls did not look
+forward to lessons with Aunt Sophia.
+
+"You are all displeased," she said; "and I am scarcely surprised. The
+fact is, I have not got any efficient teacher to come here just yet. The
+person I should wish for is not easy to find. I myself know a great deal
+more than you do, and I have my own ideas with regard to instruction. I
+may as well tell you at once that I am a very severe teacher, and
+somewhat cranky, too. A girl who does not know her lessons is apt to find
+herself seated at my left side. Now, my right side is sunshiny and
+pleasant; but my left side faces due northeast. I think that will explain
+everything to you. We will meet in the schoolroom to-morrow at nine
+o'clock sharp. Now I must go."
+
+When Miss Tredgold had vanished the girls looked at each other.
+
+"Her northeast side!" said Pauline. "It makes me shudder even to think of
+it."
+
+But notwithstanding these remarks the girls did feel a certain amount of
+interest at the thought of the new life that lay before them. Everything
+had changed from that sunny, languorous, _dolce far niente_ time a
+fortnight back. Now the girls felt keen and brisk, and they knew well
+that each moment in the future would be spent in active employment.
+
+The next day, sharp at nine o'clock, the young people who were to form
+Miss Tredgold's school entered the new schoolroom. It was suitably and
+prettily furnished, and had a charming appearance. Large maps were hung
+on the walls; there was a long line of bookshelves filled partly with
+story books, partly with history books, and partly with ordinary lesson
+books. The windows were draped with white muslin, and stood wide open. As
+the girls took their seats at the baize-covered table they could see out
+into the garden. A moment after they had arrived in the schoolroom Miss
+Tredgold made her appearance.
+
+"We will begin with prayers," she said.
+
+She read a portion from the Bible, made a few remarks, and then they all
+knelt as she repeated the Lord's prayer.
+
+"Now, my dears," said their new governess as they rose from their knees,
+"lessons will begin. I hope we shall proceed happily and quietly. It will
+be uphill work at first; but if we each help the other, uphill work will
+prove to have its own pleasures. It's a long pull, and a strong pull, and
+a pull all together that masters difficulties. If we are all united we
+can accomplish anything; but if there is mutiny in the camp, then things
+may be difficult. I warn you all, however, that under any circumstances I
+mean to win the victory. It will be much easier, therefore, to submit at
+first. There will be no use in sulkiness, in laziness, in inattention.
+Make a brave effort now, all of you, and you will never regret this day.
+Now, Verena, you and I will have some conversation together. The rest of
+you children will read this page in the History of England, and tell me
+afterwards what you can remember about it."
+
+Here Miss Tredgold placed a primer before each child, and she and Verena
+retired into the bay-window. They came out again at the end of ten
+minutes. Verena's cheeks were crimson, and Miss Tredgold decidedly wore a
+little of her northeast air. Pauline, on the whole, had a more successful
+interview with her new governess than her sister. She was smarter and
+brighter than Verena in many ways. But before the morning was over Miss
+Tredgold announced that all her pupils were shamefully ignorant.
+
+"I know more about you now than I did," she said. "You will all have to
+work hard. Verena, you cannot even read properly. As to your writing, it
+is straggling, uneven, and faulty in spelling."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+NANCY KING.
+
+
+The rest of the day passed in a subdued state. The girls hardly knew
+themselves. They felt as though tiny and invisible chains were
+surrounding them. These chains pulled them whenever they moved. They made
+their presence felt when they spoke, when they sat down, and when they
+rose up. They were with them at dinner; they were with them whenever Miss
+Tredgold put in an appearance. Perhaps they were silken chains, but, all
+the same, they were intensely annoying. Verena was the most patient of
+the nine. She said to her sisters:
+
+"We have never had any discipline. I was reading the other day in one of
+mother's books that discipline is good. It is the same thing as when you
+prune the fruit trees. Don't you remember the time when John got a very
+good gardener from Southampton to come and look over our trees? The
+gardener said, 'These trees have all run to wood; you must prune them.'
+And he showed John how, and we watched him. Don't you remember, girls?"
+
+"Oh, don't I!" said Pauline. "And he cut away a lot of the little apples,
+and hundreds of tiny pears, and a lot of lovely branches; and I began to
+cry, and I told him he was a horrid, horrid man, and that I hated him."
+
+"And what did he answer?"
+
+"Oh, he got ruder than ever! He said, 'If I was your pa I'd do a little
+pruning on you.' Oh, wasn't I angry!"
+
+Verena laughed.
+
+"But think a little more," she said. "Don't you remember the following
+year how splendid the pears were? And we had such heaps of apples; and
+the gooseberries and raspberries were equally fine. We didn't hate the
+man when we were eating our delicious fruit."
+
+Pauline made a slight grimace.
+
+"Look here, Renny," she said suddenly; "for goodness' sake don't begin to
+point morals. It's bad enough to have an old aunt here without your
+turning into a mentor. We all know what you want to say, but please don't
+say it. Haven't we been scolded and directed and ordered about all day
+long? We don't want you to do it, too."
+
+"Very well, I won't," said Verena.
+
+"Hullo!" suddenly cried Briar; "if this isn't Nancy King! Oh, welcome,
+Nancy--welcome! We are glad to see you."
+
+Nancy King was a spirited and bright-looking girl who lived about a mile
+away. Her father had a large farm which was known as The Hollies. He had
+held this land for many years, and was supposed to be in flourishing
+circumstances. Nancy was his only child. She had been sent to a
+fashionable school at Brighton, and considered herself quite a young
+lady. She came whenever she liked to The Dales, and the girls often met
+her in the Forest, and enjoyed her society vastly. Now in the most
+fashionable London attire, Nancy sailed across the lawn, calling out as
+she did so:
+
+"Hullo, you nine! You look like the Muses. What's up now? I have heard
+most wonderful, astounding whispers."
+
+"Oh, Nancy, we're all so glad to see you!" said Briar. She left her seat,
+ran up to the girl, and took her hand. "Come and sit here--here in the
+midst of our circle. We have such a lot to say to you!"
+
+"And I have a lot to say to you. But, dear me! how grand we are!"
+
+Nancy's twinkling black eyes looked with mock approval at Verena's plain
+but very neat gray dress, and at the equally neat costumes of the other
+girls. Then finally she gazed long and pensively at Penelope, who, in an
+ugly dress of brown holland, was looking back at her with eyes as black
+and defiant as her own.
+
+"May I ask," said Nancy slowly, "what has this nursery baby to do in the
+midst of the grown-ups?"
+
+"I'm not nursery," said Penelope, her face growing crimson; "I'm
+schoolroom. Don't tell me I'm nursery, because I'm not. We're all
+schoolroom, and we're having a right good time."
+
+"Indeed! Then I may as well remark that you don't look like it. You look,
+the whole nine of you, awfully changed, and as prim as prim can be.
+'Prunes and prisms' wouldn't melt in your mouths. You're not half, nor
+quarter, as nice as you were when I saw you last. I've just come home for
+good, you know. I mean to have a jolly time at Margate by-and-by. And oh!
+my boy cousins and my two greatest chums at school are staying with me
+now at The Hollies. The girls' names are Amelia and Rebecca Perkins. Oh,
+they're fine! Do give me room to squat between you girls. You are
+frightfully stand-off and prim."
+
+"Sit close to me, Nancy," said Verena. "We're not a bit changed to you,"
+she added.
+
+"Well, that's all right, honey, for I'm not changed to you. Even if I am
+a very rich girl, I'm the sort to always cling to my old friends; and
+although you are as poor as church mice, you are quite a good sort. I
+have always said so--always. I've been talking a lot about you to Amelia
+and Rebecca, and they'd give their eyes to see you. I thought you might
+ask us all over."
+
+"Oh! I daren't, Nancy," said Verena. "We are not our own mistresses now."
+
+"Well, that's exactly what I heard," said Nancy. "Oh, how hot it is! Pen,
+for goodness' sake run and fetch me a cabbage-leaf to fan my face."
+
+Penelope ran off willingly enough. Nancy turned to the others.
+
+"I sent her off on purpose," she said. "If we can't come to you, you must
+come to us. We three girls at The Hollies, and my two boy cousins, Tom
+and Jack, have the most daring, delightful scheme to propose. We want to
+have a midnight picnic."
+
+"Midnight picnic!" cried Verena. "But we can't possibly come, Nancy."
+
+"My good girl, why not? You know I talked about it last year. We want to
+have one on a very grand scale; and there are a few friends at
+Southampton that I would ask to join us. You won't have any expense
+whatever. I'll stump up for the whole. Father gives me so much money that
+I have at the present moment over five pounds in the savings-bank. We
+will light fires in a clearing not far from here, and we will have tea
+and supper afterwards; and we shall dance--dance by the light of the
+moon--and I will bring my guitar to make music. Can you imagine anything
+in all the world more fascinating?"
+
+"Oh, Nancy, it does sound too lovely!" said Briar. "I'd just give the
+world to go."
+
+"Well, then, you shall come."
+
+"But Aunt Sophy would not hear of it," said Verena.
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Briar; "we must go. It would be such a jolly treat!"
+
+Nancy favored the eight girls with a sharp glance.
+
+"I have heard of that dreadful old body," she said. "Father told me. He
+said you'd be frumped up like anything, and all the gay life taken out of
+you. I came over on purpose. I pity you from the very bottom of my
+heart."
+
+"But, Nancy, you can't think how things are changed," said Pauline. "All
+our time is occupied. Lessons began to-day. They are going to take hours
+and hours."
+
+"But these are holiday times," said Nancy. "All the world has a holiday
+in the middle of the summer."
+
+"That's true enough," said Verena; "but then we had holidays for over a
+year, and Aunt Sophia says we must begin at once. She is quite right, I'm
+sure; although of course we scarcely like it. And anyhow, Nancy, she
+won't allow us to go to a midnight picnic; there's no use thinking about
+it."
+
+"But suppose you don't ask her. Of course, if she's an old maid she'll
+refuse. Old maids are the queerest, dumpiest things on the earth. I'm
+really thankful I'm not bothered with any of them. Oh! here comes Pen.
+It's nonsense to have a child like that out of the nursery. We'd best not
+say anything before her. Verena and Briar, will you walk down to the gate
+with me? I thought perhaps we might have the picnic in a week. It could
+be easily managed; you know it could."
+
+"Oh, we must go!" said Pauline.
+
+"I'm going," said Josephine.
+
+But Verena was silent.
+
+"Here's your cabbage-leaf. How red your face looks!" said Penelope.
+
+Nancy turned and gazed at her. She was a bold-looking girl, and by no
+means pretty. She snatched the leaf angrily from Penelope's hand, saying:
+
+"Oh, my dear, go away! How you do worry, jumping and dancing about! And
+what a stupid, good-for-nothing leaf you've brought! Fetch me one that's
+not completely riddled with caterpillar holes."
+
+Penelope's black eyes flashed fire, and her face flushed.
+
+"If I could, I would just," she said.
+
+"If you could you would what?" said Nancy.
+
+"I know--I know! And I'll do it, too."
+
+A provoking smile visited the lips of the child. She danced backwards and
+forwards in an ecstasy of glee.
+
+"I can punish you all fine," said Penelope; "and I'll do it, too."
+
+She vanished out of sight. Now, it must be admitted that Penelope was not
+a nice child. She had her good points, for few children are without them;
+but in addition to being thoroughly untrained, to never having exercised
+self-control, she had by nature certain peculiarities which the other
+children had not. It had been from her earliest days her earnest desire
+to curry favor with those in authority, and yet to act quite as naughtily
+as any one else when she thought no one was looking. Even when quite a
+tiny child Penelope was wont to sit as still as a mouse in nurse's
+presence. If nurse said, "Miss Penelope, you are not to move or you will
+wake baby," then nurse knew that Penelope would not stir. But if this
+same child happened to be left with baby, so strong would be her jealousy
+that she would give the infant a sharp pinch and set it howling, and then
+run from the room.
+
+These peculiarities continued with her growth. Nurse was fond of her
+because she was quiet and useful in the nursery, fairly tidy in her
+habits, and fairly helpful. But even nurse was wont to say, "You never
+can get at Miss Penelope. You can never see through what is brewing in
+her mind."
+
+Now, when Aunt Sophia appeared on the scene, Penelope instantly
+determined to carry out the darling wish of her heart. This was no less
+than to be removed from the dullness of the nursery to the fascinating
+life that she supposed the elder children led. To accomplish this she
+thought it would be only necessary to make a great fuss about Aunt
+Sophia, to attend to her fads, and to give her numerous little
+attentions. In short, to show that she, Penelope, cared very much for her
+new aunt. But Aunt Sophia did not care for Penelope's fusses, and
+disliked her small attentions. Nevertheless, the small girl persevered,
+and in the end she did win a triumph, for she was promoted to the
+schoolroom, with its superior privileges and--alas! alas!--also its
+undoubted drawbacks. She, who hated lessons, must now try to read; she
+must also try to write, and must make valiant efforts to spell. Above and
+beyond all these things, she had to do one yet harder--she had to sit
+mute as a mouse for a couple of hours daily, with her hands neatly folded
+in her lap; and by-and-by she had to struggle with her clumsy little
+fingers to make hideous noises on the cracked old piano. These things
+were not agreeable to the wild child, and so uncomfortable and restrained
+had she felt during the first morning's lessons that she almost resolved
+to humble her pride and return to the nursery. But the thought of her
+sisters' withering, sarcastic remarks, and of nurse's bitterly cold
+reception, and nurse's words, "I told you so," being repeated for ever in
+her ears, was too much for Penelope, and she determined to give a further
+trial to the schoolroom life. Now it occurred to her that a moment of
+triumph was before her. In the old days she had secretly adored Nancy
+King, for Nancy had given her more than one lollypop; but when Nancy
+asked what the nursery child was doing with the schoolroom folk, and
+showed that she did not appreciate Penelope's society, the little girl's
+heart became full of anger.
+
+"I'll tell about her. I'll get her into trouble. I'll get them all into
+trouble," she thought.
+
+She ran into the shrubbery, and stood there thinking for a time. She was
+a queer-looking little figure as she stood thus in her short holland
+overall, her stout bare legs, brown as berries, slightly apart, her head
+thrown back, her hair awry, a smudge on her cheek, her black eyes
+twinkling.
+
+"I will do it," she said to herself. "Aunt Sophy shall find out that I am
+the good one of the family."
+
+Penelope ran wildly across the shrubbery, invaded the kitchen-garden,
+invaded the yard, and presently invaded the house. She found Miss Sophia
+sitting by her writing-table. Miss Sophia had a headache; teaching was
+not her vocation. She had worked harder that day than ever in her life
+before, and she had a great many letters to write.
+
+It was therefore a very busy and a slightly cross person who turned round
+and faced Penelope.
+
+"Don't slam the door, Penelope," she said; "and don't run into the room
+in that breathless sort of way."
+
+"Well, I thought you ought for to know. I done it 'cos of you."
+
+"'I did it because of you,' you should say."
+
+"I did it because of you. I am very fond of you, aunt."
+
+"I hope so; and I trust you will prove your affection by your deeds."
+
+"Bovver deeds!" remarked Penelope.
+
+"What is that you said, my dear?"
+
+"I say, bovver deeds!"
+
+"I confess I do not understand. Run away, now, Penelope; I am busy."
+
+"But you ought for to know. Nancy King has come."
+
+"Who is Nancy King?"
+
+"A girl. She's squatting up close to Renny on the lawn, and her arm is
+twisted round Pauline's waist. She's big, and dressed awful grand. She
+has gold bangles on her arms, and tinkling gold things round her neck,
+and she's here, and I thought course you ought for to know. I thought so
+'cos I love you. Aren't you pleased? Aren't I the sort of little girl you
+could perhaps give a lollypop to?"
+
+"No, you are not, Penelope. I do not wish you to tell tales of your
+sisters. Go away, my dear; go away."
+
+Penelope, in some wonder, and with a sense of disgust, not only with
+Nancy King and Miss Tredgold, but also with herself, left the room.
+
+"I won't tell her any more," she thought. "She never seems to like what I
+do for her. She'd be pretty lonesome if it wasn't for me; but she don't
+seem to care for anybody. I'll just rush away to nursey this very minute
+and tell her how I love being a schoolroom girl. I'll tell her I dote on
+my lessons, and that I never for the big, big, wide world would be a
+nursery child again."
+
+"Queer little child, Penelope," thought Miss Tredgold when her small
+niece had left her.
+
+She sat with her pen suspended, lost in thought.
+
+"Very queer child," she soliloquized; "not the least like the others. I
+can't say that I specially care for her. At present I am not in love with
+any of my nieces; but of all of them, Penelope is the child I like the
+least. She tells tales; she tries to curry favor with me. Is she
+truthful? Is she sincere? I have a terrible fear within me that occasions
+may arise when Penelope would prove deceitful. There! what am I saying? A
+motherless child--my own niece--surely I ought to love her. Yes, I do
+love her. I will try to love them all. What did she say about a girl
+sitting on the lawn with my girls? It is nice to talk of the Dales as my
+girls; it gives me a sort of family feeling, just as though I were not an
+old maid. I wonder what friends my girls have made for themselves round
+here. Nancy King. I don't know any people of the name of King who live
+about here. If Henry were any one else he would probably be able to tell
+me. I will go and see the girl for myself."
+
+Miss Tredgold left the room. She had a very stately walk. The girls
+always spoke of her movements as "sailing." Miss Tredgold now sailed
+across the lawn, and in the same dignified fashion came up to the
+secluded nook where the girls, with Nancy King in their midst, were
+enjoying themselves. They were all talking eagerly. Nancy King was seated
+almost in the center of the group; the other girls were bending towards
+her. As Miss Tredgold appeared in view Josephine was exclaiming in her
+high-pitched, girlish voice:
+
+"Oh, I say, Nancy! What screaming fun!"
+
+When Josephine spoke Lucy clapped her hands, Helen laughed, Verena looked
+puzzled, and Pauline's expression seemed to say she longed for something
+very badly indeed.
+
+"My dears, what are you all doing?" suddenly cried Aunt Sophia.
+
+She had come up quietly, and they had none of them heard her. It was just
+as if a pistol had gone off in their ears. The whole nine jumped to their
+feet. Nancy's red face became redder. She pushed her gaily trimmed hat
+forward over her heated brows. She had an instinctive feeling that she
+had never before seen any one so dignified and magnificent as Miss Sophia
+Tredgold. She knew that this was the case, although Miss Sophia's dress
+was almost dowdy, and the little brown slipper which peeped out from
+under the folds of her gray dress was decidedly the worse for wear. Nancy
+felt at the same time the greatest admiration for Miss Tredgold, the
+greatest dislike to her, and the greatest terror of her.
+
+"Aunt Sophia," said Verena, who could be a lady if she chose, "may I
+introduce our special friend----"
+
+"And crony," interrupted Nancy.
+
+"Our special friend, Nancy King," repeated Verena. "We have known her all
+our lives, Aunt Sophia."
+
+"How do you do, Miss King?" said Miss Tredgold.
+
+She favored "the young person," as she termed Miss King, with a very
+distant bow.
+
+"Girls," she said, turning to the others, "are you aware that preparation
+hour has arrived? Will you all go quietly indoors?--Miss King, my nieces
+are beginning their studies in earnest, and I do not allow the hour of
+preparation to be interfered with by any one."
+
+"I know all about that," said Nancy in a glib voice. "I was at a
+first-rate school myself for years. Weren't we kept strict, just! My
+word! we couldn't call our noses our own. The only language was
+_parlez-vous_. But it was a select school--very; and now that I have
+left, I like to feel that I am accomplished. None of you girls can beat
+me on the piano. I know nearly all the girls' songs in _San Toy_ and the
+_Belle of New York_. Father loves to hear me when I sing 'Rhoda Pagoda.'
+Perhaps, Miss Tredgold, you'd like to hear me play on the pianoforte. I
+dote on dance music; don't you, Miss Tredgold? Dance music is so lively;
+it warms the cockles of the heart--don't it, Miss Tredgold?"
+
+"I don't dance, so it is impossible for me to answer," said Miss
+Tredgold. "I am sorry, Miss King, to disturb a pleasant meeting, but my
+girls are under discipline, and the hour for preparation has arrived."
+
+Nancy shrugged her capacious shoulders.
+
+"I suppose that means _conge_ for poor Nancy King," she said. "Very
+sorry, I'm sure. Good-day, madam.--Good-bye, Renny. I'll look you up
+another day.--Good-bye to all. I'm off to have a bit of fun with my boy
+cousins."
+
+Nancy swung round and left the group. She walked awkwardly, switching her
+shoulders and swaying from side to side, a dirty train trailing after
+her.
+
+"May I ask who your friend really is?" said Miss Tredgold when she had
+watched the departure of this most undesirable acquaintance.
+
+"She is Nancy King, Aunt Sophia. We have known her all our lives," said
+Verena.
+
+"My dear Verena, I have heard that statement before. Nevertheless, the
+fact that you have known that young person since you were little children
+does not reply to my question. Who is she? Where does she come from? Who
+is her father? I don't remember to have heard of any gentlefolks of the
+name of King residing in this part of the New Forest."
+
+"She is not gentlefolk," said Pauline.
+
+Pauline came a step nearer as she spoke. Her eyes were bright, and there
+was a red spot on each cheek.
+
+"But although she is not born a lady, she is our friend," she continued.
+"She is the daughter of Farmer King, who keeps a very jolly house; and
+they have plenty of money. We have often and often been at The Hollies."
+
+"Oh! we get delicious apples there," interposed Adelaide; "the juiciest
+you ever tasted--the cherry-and-brandy sort."
+
+"I have never heard of that special apple, and I dislike its name," said
+Miss Sophia.--"Now come into the house, all of you."
+
+She did not question them further. She walked on in front.
+
+"I can't stand too much of this," whispered Briar to Verena.
+
+But Verena said "Hush!" and clasped Briar's little hand as it lay on her
+arm.
+
+They entered the house and proceeded to the pleasant schoolroom.
+
+"It is now four o'clock," said Miss Tredgold. "At five tea is served. As
+the evening is so fine, I have ordered it to be laid under the cedar-tree
+on the lawn. For the next hour I expect close attention to lessons. I
+shall not stay in the room, but you, Verena, are monitress during my
+absence. Please understand that I expect honor. Honor requires that you
+should study, and that you should be silent. Here are your books. Prepare
+the lessons I shall require you to know to-morrow morning. Those girls
+who have not made due preparation will enter into Punishment Land."
+
+"What in the world is that?" burst from the lips of the irrepressible
+Briar.
+
+"Don't ask me," answered Miss Tredgold. "I hope you may never have a
+personal acquaintance with that gloomy country. Now farewell. For an hour
+fix your attention on your tasks; and adieu."
+
+Never before had the Dale girls found themselves in such a quandary. For
+a whole long hour they were prohibited by a code of honor from speaking.
+They were all just bursting with desire to launch forth in a fiery
+torrent, but they must none of them utter a single word. Verena, as
+monitress, could not encourage rebellion. There are some things that even
+untrained girls, provided they are ladies, understand by intuition. The
+Dales were ladies by birth. Their home had belonged to their father's
+family for generations. There was a time in the past when to be a Dale of
+The Dales meant to be rich, honored, and respected. But, alas! the Dales,
+like many other old families, had gone under. Money had failed; purses
+had become empty; lands had been sold; the house had dwindled down to its
+present shabby dimensions; and if Miss Tredgold had not appeared on the
+scene, there would have been little chance of Mr. Dale's ten daughters
+ever taking the position to which their birth entitled them. But there
+are some things which an ancient race confers. _Noblesse oblige_, for one
+thing. These girls were naughty, rebellious, and angry; their hearts were
+very sore; their silken chains seemed at this moment to assume the
+strength of iron fetters; but during the hour that was before them they
+would not disobey Miss Tredgold. Accordingly their dreary books were
+opened. Oh, how ugly and dull they looked!
+
+"What does it matter whether a girl knows how to spell, and what happened
+long, long ago in the history-books?" thought Briar.
+
+"Aunt Sophia was downright horrid about poor Nancy," was Pauline's angry
+thought. "Oh! must I really work out these odious sums, when I am
+thinking all the time of poor Nancy?"
+
+"I shall never keep my head if this sort of thing goes on for long,"
+thought Verena as she bent over her page of English history. "Oh, dear!
+that midnight picnic, and Nancy's face, and the dancing in the glades of
+the Forest. It would have been fun. If there is one thing more than
+another that I love, it is dancing. I think I could dance for ever."
+
+Verena could not keep her pretty little feet still. They moved restlessly
+under her chair. Pauline saw the movement, and a wave of sympathy flashed
+between the sisters. Pauline's eyes spoke volumes as they encountered the
+soft brown ones of pretty Verena.
+
+But an hour--even the longest--is quickly over. Five o'clock struck, and
+quick to the minute each girl sprang to her feet. Books were put away,
+and they all streamed out into the open air. Now they could talk as much
+as they liked. How their tongues wagged! They flew at each other in their
+delight and embraced violently. Never before, too, had they been so
+hungry for tea; and certainly never before had they seen such a
+delightful and tempting meal as that which was now laid for them on the
+lawn. The new parlor-maid had brought it out and placed it on various
+little tables. A silver teapot reposed on a silver tray; the cups and
+saucers were of fine china; the teaspoons were old, thin, and bright as a
+looking-glass. The table-linen was also snowy white; but what the girls
+far more appreciated were the piles of fruit, the quantities of cakes,
+the stacks of sandwiches, and the great plates of bread-and-butter that
+waited for them on the festive board.
+
+"Well!" said Briar. "Did you ever? It looks just like a party, or a
+birthday treat, or something of that sort. I will say there are some nice
+things about Aunt Sophia. This is certainly better than squatting on the
+ground with a basket of gooseberries and a hunch of bread."
+
+"I liked the gooseberries," said Pauline, "but, as you say, Briar, this
+is nice. Ah! here comes the aunt."
+
+Miss Tredgold sailed into view. She took her seat opposite the hissing
+urn and began to pour out cups of tea.
+
+"For a week," she said, "I take this place. At the end of that time
+Verena occupies my throne."
+
+"Oh, I couldn't!" said Verena.
+
+"Why in the world not, Renny? You aren't quite a goose."
+
+"Don't use those expressions, Pauline; they are distinctly vulgar," said
+Miss Tredgold.
+
+"Bother!" said Pauline.
+
+She frowned, and the thought of the gooseberries and the hard crusts that
+used to constitute tea on many days when there was no Aunt Sophia came
+back to her with a sense of longing and appreciation of the golden past.
+
+Nevertheless the girls were hungry, and the tea was excellent; and when
+Miss Tredgold had seen that each plate was piled with good things, and
+that every girl had her cup of tea made exactly as she liked it, she
+began to speak.
+
+"You know little or nothing of the world, my dear girls, so during tea I
+intend to give you some pleasant information. I attended a tea-party last
+year in a house not far from London. You would like to hear all about it,
+would you not?"
+
+"If you are sure it is not lessons," said Briar.
+
+"It is not lessons in the ordinary acception of the word. Now listen.
+This garden to which I went led down to the Thames. It was the property
+of a very great friend of mine, and she had invited what I might call a
+select company. Now will you all listen, and I will tell you how things
+were done?"
+
+Miss Tredgold then proceeded to tell her story. No one could tell a story
+better. She made her narrative quite absorbing. For these girls, who had
+never known anything of life, she drew so vivid and fascinating a picture
+that they almost wished to be present at such a scene as she described.
+She spoke of the girls of the London world in their pretty dresses, and
+the matrons in their richer garments; of the men who moved about with
+polite deference. She spoke of the summer air, the beautiful appearance
+of the river, the charming punts and boats which disported themselves on
+the bosom of the waters.
+
+"It must have been pretty; but rather stiff, wasn't it?" said Verena.
+
+"To you, my dear, it would have been stiff, for you are not yet
+accustomed to self-restraint, but to those who belong to that world it
+was nothing short of enchantment."
+
+"But you were in fetters," said Pauline; "and I should hate fetters
+however jolly they looked."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, you know you are putting them on us."
+
+"Hush, Paulie!" said Verena.
+
+"You are, Aunt Sophy; and you can't be angry with me if I speak. I can't
+imagine any one getting accustomed to fetters; it is quite beyond me."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders, and looked with her downright face full at
+Miss Tredgold.
+
+"Never mind," said that lady after a pause. "I can't expect you to
+understand everything all at once; but my description of a real bit of
+the world can do you no harm. The world has its good points; you will
+find that out presently. Perhaps you may not like it, but some people do.
+In your case there is no saying. To-morrow I will tell you another story,
+but it shall be of the graver and sadder side of life. That story will
+also introduce the nobler side of life. But now the time has come for me
+to ask you a question, and I expect an answer. The time has come for me
+to ask a very straight question.--Verena, you are the eldest; I shall
+speak to you."
+
+"Yes?" said Verena.
+
+She felt herself coloring. She said afterwards she knew exactly what was
+coming. Pauline must have known also, for she pinched Verena's arm.
+
+"Yes?" repeated the young girl.
+
+"You are surprised at the story I have just related to you," continued
+Miss Tredgold. "You think that the courtly grace, the sweet refinement,
+the elegant manners, the words that speak of due knowledge of life and
+men and women, represent a state of fetterdom; but you must also have
+felt their charm."
+
+"To a certain extent," said Verena slowly, "what you have said excited
+me."
+
+"You feel it possible that, under certain circumstances, you, too, could
+belong to such a group?"
+
+"Perhaps," said Verena.
+
+"There is not a doubt of it, my dear. A few years' training, a little of
+that discipline which you call fetters, pretty manners, and suitable
+dress would make you quite the sort of girl who would appear amongst my
+cultivated friends in the garden by the River Thames. But now for my
+question: Could your friend, Nancy King, ever figure in such an
+assembly?"
+
+"It would not perhaps be her world," said Verena.
+
+"You have answered me. Now I am going to say something that may annoy
+you; nevertheless I must say it. Your acquaintanceship with that girl as
+a friend must cease, and absolutely. She is not your equal. You are not
+to know her as a friend. If you meet her, there is no reason why you
+should not be civil, but civility and friendship are different things. If
+the time comes when she is in need or in trouble, I should be deeply
+sorry to think you would not help her, but as a friend she is to cease to
+exist for you. This is my firm command to all of you girls. There are to
+be no two voices on the subject. You may not agree with me now, and you
+may think me hard, but I insist on having my own way. You cease to know
+Nancy King as a friend. I shall myself write to that young person and
+forbid her to visit here. I will try not to hurt her; but there are
+certain distinctions of class which I for one must insist upon
+preserving. She is not a lady, she was not born a lady, and she never can
+be a lady; therefore, my dear nieces, you are not to know her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+MUSIC HATH CHARMS.
+
+
+The girls were tired when they went to bed. The life of routine had
+fatigued them; although, of course, it would soon cease to do so.
+Notwithstanding, therefore, Miss Tredgold's startling announcement with
+regard to Nancy King, they slept soundly; and the next morning when nine
+o'clock struck they all appeared in the schoolroom, their persons neat,
+their hair carefully brushed, and each pair of eyes beaming with
+intelligence. Even Penelope looked her very best in a clean brown holland
+frock, and she went quite creditably through her alphabet, and did not
+squiggle her pot-hooks quite as much as she had done on the previous day.
+
+Miss Tredgold was in an excellent humor. She praised the girls, told them
+she was much pleased with their performances, and said further that, if
+only they would meet her half-way by being attentive and intelligent and
+earnest in their work, she on her part would do all in her power to make
+lessons agreeable; she would teach them in a way which would be sure to
+arouse their interest, and she would vary the work with play, and give
+them as gay a time as the bright weather and their own happy hearts would
+permit.
+
+The girls felt quite cheerful; they even began to whisper one to another
+that Aunt Sophia was developing more and more good points as days went
+on.
+
+On that afternoon a great excitement was in store, for a beautiful new
+piano was to arrive from Broadwood's, and Aunt Sophia announced that she
+meant to play on it for the benefit of the entire household that evening.
+
+"For, my dears," said that good lady, "I have forgotten neither my
+playing nor my singing. I will sing you old-fashioned songs to-night, and
+I quite hope that I may lure your father from his retirement. There was a
+time when he was musical--very musical."
+
+"The dad musical!" cried Briar. "Aunt Sophia, what do you mean?"
+
+"It is true, Rose. In the days long ago, when your mother and he and I
+spent happy times together, he played his violin better than any other
+amateur that I happen to know."
+
+"There is an old violin in one of the attics," said Verena. "We have
+never touched it. It is in a case all covered with dust."
+
+"His Stradivarius," murmured Miss Tredgold. "Oh dear! How are the mighty
+fallen! My dears, you had better say no more to me about that or I shall
+lose my temper."
+
+The girls could not imagine why Miss Tredgold's eyes grew full of a
+certain mistiness and her cheeks were very pink with color. The next
+moment she looked full at her nieces.
+
+"When your mother died she took a great deal away with her," she said.
+"What would you have done, poor children! if I had not been able to come
+to the rescue? It does seem almost impossible that your father, my
+brother-in-law, has forgotten to play on his Stradivarius."
+
+"Well, aren't you glad you comed?" said Penelope, marching up and
+standing before the good lady. "Don't you like to feel you are so useful,
+the grand piano coming, and all the rest? Then you has us under your
+thumb. Don't you like that?"
+
+"I don't understand you, Penny. You are talking in a very naughty way."
+
+"I aren't. I are only saying what nursey said. Nursey said last night,
+'Well, well, drat it all! They are under her thumb by this time.' I asked
+nursey what it meant, and she said, 'Miss Penny, little girls should be
+seen, and not heard.' Nursey always says that when I ask her questions
+that I want special to know. But when I comed down this morning I asked
+Betty what being under your thumb meant, and she said, 'Oh, lor', Miss
+Penny! You had better look out, miss. It means what you don't like,
+miss.' Then she said, Aunt Sophy, that old ladies like you was fond of
+having little girls under their thumbs. So I 'spect you like it; and I
+hope you won't squeeze us flat afore you have done."
+
+Miss Tredgold had turned very red.
+
+"How old are you, Pen?" she said when the loquacious child became silent.
+
+Penelope tossed her head. "You knows of my age quite well."
+
+"Then I will just repeat the remark made by your excellent nurse--'Little
+girls should be seen, and not heard.' I will add to that remark by saying
+that little girls are sometimes impertinent. I shall not say anything
+more to-day; but another time, if you address me as you have just done, I
+shall be obliged to punish you."
+
+"And if I don't dress you," said Penelope--"if I'm awful good--will you
+give me sugar-plums?"
+
+"That is a treat in the very far distance," said Miss Tredgold.--"But
+now, girls, go out. The more you enjoy this lovely air the better."
+
+They did all enjoy it; after their hard work--for lessons were hard to
+them--freedom was sweet. With each moment of lesson-time fully occupied,
+leisure was delicious. They wandered under the trees; they opened the
+wicket-gate which led into the Forest, and went a short way into its deep
+and lovely shade. When lunch-bell sounded they returned with hungry
+appetites.
+
+The rest of the day passed pleasantly. Even preparation hour was no
+longer regarded as a hardship. It brought renewed appetites to enjoy tea.
+And in the midst of tea a wild dissipation occurred, for a piano-van came
+slowly down the rutty lane which led to the front avenue. It stopped at
+the gates; the gates were opened, the piano-van came up the avenue, and
+John and two other men carried the beautiful Broadwood into the big
+drawing-room.
+
+Miss Tredgold unlocked it and touched the ivory keys with loving fingers.
+
+"I will play to you to-night when it is dusk," she said to the girls.
+
+After this they were so eager to hear the music that they could scarcely
+eat their dinner. Mr. Dale now always appeared for the evening meal. He
+took the foot of the table, and stared in an abstracted way at Aunt
+Sophia. So fond was he of doing this that he often quite forgot to carve
+the joint which was set before him.
+
+"Wake up, Henry," said Miss Sophia in her sharp voice; "the children are
+hungry, and so am I."
+
+Then the student would shake himself, seize the knife and fork, and make
+frantic dashes at whatever the joint might happen to be. It must be owned
+that he carved very badly. Miss Tredgold bore it for a day or two; then
+she desired the parlor-maid to convey the joint to the head of the table
+where she sat. After this was done the dinner-hour was wont to progress
+very satisfactorily. To-day it went quickly by. Then Verena went up to
+her aunt.
+
+"Now, Aunt Sophy," she said, "the gloaming has come, and music is waiting
+to make us all happy in the drawing-room."
+
+"I will play for you, my dears," said Aunt Sophia.
+
+She was just leaving the room when she heard Verena say:
+
+"You love music, father. Do come into the drawing-room. Aunt Sophia has
+got her new piano. She means to play on it. Do come; you know you love
+music."
+
+"Indeed, I do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Dale.
+
+He pushed his gray hair back from his forehead and looked abstractedly at
+Miss Sophia, who was standing in the twilight just by the open door.
+
+"You remind me, Sophia----" said Mr. Dale.
+
+He paused and covered his eyes with his hand.
+
+"I could have sworn that you were she. No music, thanks; I have never
+listened to it since she died. Your mother played beautifully, children;
+she played and she sang. I liked her songs; I hate the twaddle of the
+present day. Now I am returning to my Virgil. My renderings of the
+original text become more and more full of light. I shall secure a vast
+reputation. Music! I hate music. Don't disturb me, any of you."
+
+When Mr. Dale reached his study he sank into his accustomed chair. His
+lamp was already lit; it burned brightly, for Miss Tredgold herself
+trimmed it each morning. His piles of books of reference lay in confusion
+by his side. An open manuscript was in front of him. He took up his pen.
+Very soon he would be absorbed by the strong fascination of his studies;
+the door into another world would open and shut him in. He would be
+impervious then to this present century, to his present life, to his
+children, to the home in which he lived.
+
+"I could have sworn," he muttered to himself, "that Alice had come back.
+As Sophia stood in the twilight I should scarcely have known them apart.
+She is not Alice. Alice was the only woman I ever loved--the only woman I
+could tolerate in my house. My children, my girls, are none of them women
+yet, thank the Almighty. When they are they will have to go. I could not
+stand any other woman but Alice to live always in the house. But now to
+forget her. This knotty point must be cleared up before I go to bed."
+
+The doors of the ancient world were slowly opening. But before they could
+shut Mr. Dale within their portals there came a sound that caused the
+scholar to start. The soft strains of music entered through the door
+which Verena had on purpose left open. The music was sweet and yet
+masterly. It came with a merry sound and a certain quick rhythm that
+seemed to awaken the echoes of the house. Impossible as it may appear,
+Mr. Dale forgot the ancient classics and the dim world of the past. He
+lay back in his chair; his lips moved; he beat time with his knuckles on
+the arms of his chair; and with his feet on the floor. So perfect was his
+ear that the faintest wrong note, or harmony out of tune, would be
+detected by him. The least jarring sound would cause him agony. But there
+was no jarring note; the melody was correct; the time was perfect.
+
+"I might have known that Alice----" he began; but then he remembered that
+Alice had never played exactly like that, and he ceased to think of her,
+or of any woman, and became absorbed in those ringing notes that stole
+along the passage and entered by the open door and surrounded him like
+lightsome fairies. Into his right ear they poured their charm; in his
+left ear they completed their work. Virgil was forgotten; old Homer might
+never have existed.
+
+Mr. Dale rose. He got up softly; he walked across the room and opened the
+door wide. There was a very bright light streaming down the passage. In
+the old days this passage was always dark; no one ever thought of
+lighting the lobbies and passages at The Dales. The master of the house
+wondered dimly at the light; but at the same time it gave him a sense of
+comfort.
+
+Suddenly a voice began to sing:
+
+             "I know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows."
+
+The voice was sweet, pure, and high. It floated towards him. Suddenly he
+stretched out his arms.
+
+"I am coming, Alice," he said aloud. "Yes, I am coming. Don't call me
+with such insistence. I come, I tell you; I come."
+
+He ran down the passage; he entered the central hall; he burst into the
+drawing-room. His eyes were full of excitement. He strode across the room
+and sank into a chair close to the singer.
+
+Miss Tredgold just turned and glanced at him.
+
+"Ah, Henry!" she said; "so you are there. I hoped that this would draw
+you. Now I am going to sing again."
+
+"A song of the past," he said in a husky voice.
+
+"Will this do?" she said, and began "Annie Laurie."
+
+Once again Mr. Dale kept time with his hand and his feet. "Annie Laurie"
+melted into "Home, Sweet Home"; "Home, Sweet Home" into "Ye Banks and
+Braes o' Bonny Doon"; "Ye Banks and Braes" wandered into the delicious
+notes of "Auld Lang Syne."
+
+Suddenly Miss Tredgold rose, shut and locked the piano, and then turned
+and faced her audience.
+
+"No more to-night," she said. "By-and-by you girls shall all play on this
+piano. You shall also sing, for I have not the slightest doubt that most
+of you have got voices. You ought to be musical, for music belongs to
+both sides of your house. There was once a time when your father played
+the violin as no one else, in my opinion, ever played it. By the way,
+Henry, is that violin still in existence?"
+
+"Excuse me," said Mr. Dale; "I never touch it now. I have not touched it
+for years. I would not touch it for the world."
+
+"You will touch it again when the time is ripe. Now, no more music
+to-night. Those who are tired had better go to bed."
+
+The girls left the room without a word. Miss Tredgold then went up to Mr.
+Dale.
+
+"Go back to your study and your Virgil," she said. "Don't waste your
+precious time."
+
+He looked exactly as though some one had whipped him, but he took her at
+her word and returned to his study.
+
+The music was henceforth a great feature in the establishment. Miss
+Tredgold enhanced its value by being chary in regard to it. She only
+played as a special treat. She would by no means give them the great
+pleasure of her singing and playing every night.
+
+"When you have all had a good day I will sing and play to you," she said
+to the girls; "but when you neglect your work, or are idle and careless,
+or cross and sulky, I don't intend to amuse you in the evenings. I was
+brought up on a stricter plan than the girls of the present day, and I
+mean while I am with you to bring you up in the same way. I prefer it to
+the lax way in which young people are now reared."
+
+For a time Miss Tredgold's plans went well. Then there came a day of
+rebellion. Pauline was the first to openly rebel against Aunt Sophia.
+There came a morning when Pauline absolutely refused to learn her
+lessons. She was a stoutly built, determined-looking little girl, very
+dark in complexion and in eyes and hair. She would probably be a handsome
+woman by-and-by, but now she was plain, with a somewhat sallow face,
+heavy black brows, and eyes that could scowl when anything annoyed her.
+She was the next eldest to Verena, and was thirteen years of age. Her
+birthday would be due in a fortnight. Even at The Dales birthdays were
+considered auspicious events. There was always some sort of present, even
+though it was worth very little in itself, given by each member of the
+family to the possessor of the birthday. Mr. Dale generally gave this
+happy person a whole shilling. He presented the shilling with great pomp,
+and invariably made the same speech:
+
+"God bless you, my dear. May you have many happy returns of the day. And
+now for goodness' sake don't detain me any longer."
+
+A shilling was considered by the Dale girls as valuable as a sovereign
+would be to girls in happier circumstances. It was eked out to its
+furthest dimensions, and was as a rule spent on good things to eat. Now,
+under Miss Tredgold's reign, Pauline's birthday would be a much more
+important event. Miss Tredgold had long ago taken Verena, Briar, Patty,
+Josephine, and Adelaide into her confidence. Pauline knew quite well that
+she was talked about. She knew when, the girls retired into corners that
+she was the object of their eager conversations. The whole thing was most
+agreeable to her sense of vanity, and when she suddenly appeared round a
+corner and perceived that work was put out of sight, that the eager
+whisperers started apart, and that the girls looked conscious and as if
+they wished her out of the way, she quite congratulated herself on the
+fact that hers was the first birthday in the immediate future, and that
+on that day she would be a very great personage indeed. As these thoughts
+came to her she walked with a more confident stride, and thought a great
+deal of her own importance. At night she lay awake thinking of the happy
+time, and wondering what this coming birthday, when she would have been
+fourteen whole years in the world, would bring forth.
+
+There came a lovely morning about a week before the birthday. Pauline had
+got up early, and was walking by herself in the garden. She felt terribly
+excited, and almost cross at having to wait so long for her pleasure.
+
+"After all," thought Pauline, "Aunt Sophia has done something for us. How
+horrid it would be to go back to the old shilling birthdays now!"
+
+As she thought these thoughts, Patty and Josephine, arm-in-arm and
+talking in low tones, crossed her path. They did not see her at first,
+and their words reached Pauline's ears.
+
+"I know she'd rather have pink than blue," said Patty's voice.
+
+"Well, mine will be trimmed with blue," was Josephine's answer.
+
+Just then the girls caught sight of Pauline, uttered shrieks, and
+disappeared down a shady walk.
+
+"Something with pink and something with blue," thought Pauline. "The
+excitement is almost past bearing. Of course, they're talking about my
+birthday presents. I do wish my birthday was to-morrow. I don't know how
+I shall exist for a whole week."
+
+At that moment Miss Tredgold's sharp voice fell on her ears:
+
+"You are late, Pauline. I must give you a bad mark for want of
+punctuality, Go at once into the schoolroom."
+
+To hear these incisive, sharp tones in the midst of her own delightful
+reflections was anything but agreeable to Pauline. She felt, as she
+expressed it, like a cat rubbed the wrong way. She gave Miss Tredgold one
+of her most ungracious scowls and went slowly into the house. There she
+lingered purposely before she condescended to tidy her hair and put on
+her house-shoes. In consequence she was quite a quarter of an hour late
+when she appeared in the schoolroom. Miss Tredgold had just finished
+morning prayers.
+
+"You have missed prayers this morning, Pauline," she said. "There was no
+reason for this inattention. I shall be obliged to punish you. You cannot
+have your usual hour of recreation before dinner. You will have to write
+out the first page of Scott's _Lay of the Last Minstrel_; and you must do
+it without making any mistake either in spelling or punctuation. On this
+occasion you can copy from the book. Now, no words, my dear--no words.
+Sit down immediately to your work."
+
+Pauline did sit down. She felt almost choking with anger. Was she, an
+important person who was soon to be queen of a birthday, one about whom
+her sisters talked and whispered and made presents for, to be treated in
+this scant and ungracious fashion? She would not put up with it.
+Accordingly she was very inattentive at her lessons, failed to listen
+when she should, played atrociously on the piano, could not manage her
+sums, and, in short, got more and more each moment into Miss Tredgold's
+black books.
+
+When recreation hour arrived she felt tired and headachy. The other girls
+now went out into the pleasant sunshine. Pauline looked after them with
+longing. They would sit under the overhanging trees; they would eat fruit
+and talk nonsense and laugh. Doubtless they would talk about her and the
+birthday so near at hand. At noon the schoolroom was hot, too, for the
+sun beat hard upon the windows, and Pauline felt more stifled and more
+headachy and sulky than ever.
+
+"Oh! please," she said, as Miss Tredgold was leaving the room, "I can't
+do this horrid writing to-day. Please forgive me. Do let me go out."
+
+"No, Pauline; you must take your punishment. You were late this morning;
+you disobeyed my rules. Take the punishment which I am obliged to give
+you as a lady should, and make no more excuses."
+
+The door was shut upon the angry girl. She sat for a time absolutely
+still, pressing her hand to her aching brow; then she strolled across the
+schoolroom, fetched some paper, and sat down to her unwelcome task. She
+wrote very badly, and when the hour was over she had not half copied the
+task assigned to her. This bad beginning went on to a worse end. Pauline
+declined to learn any lessons in preparation hour, and accordingly next
+morning she was absolutely unprepared for her tasks.
+
+Miss Tredgold was now thoroughly roused.
+
+"I must make an example," she said to herself. "I shall have no influence
+over these girls if I let them think I am all softness and yielding. The
+fact is, I have shown them the south side of my character too long; a
+little touch of the northeast will do them no harm."
+
+Accordingly she called the obstinate and sulky Pauline before her.
+
+"I am very much displeased with you. You have done wrong, and you must be
+punished. I have told you and your sisters that there is such a place as
+Punishment Land. You enter it now, and live there until after breakfast
+to-morrow morning."
+
+"But what do you mean?" said Pauline.
+
+"I mean exactly what I say. You have been for the last twenty-four hours
+extremely naughty. You will therefore be punished for the next
+twenty-four hours. You are a very naughty girl. Naughty girls must be
+punished, and you, Pauline, are now under punishment. You enter
+Punishment Land immediately."
+
+"But where is it? What is it? I don't understand."
+
+"You will soon. Girls, I forbid you to speak to your sister while she is
+under punishment. Pauline, your meals will be sent to you in this room.
+You will be expected to work up your neglected tasks and learn them
+thoroughly. You must neither play with nor speak to your sisters. You
+will have no indulgence of any sort. When you walk, I wish you to keep in
+the north walk, just beyond the vegetable garden. Finally, you will go to
+bed at seven o'clock. Now leave the room. I am in earnest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+PUNISHMENT LAND.
+
+
+Pauline did leave the room. She passed her sisters, who stared at her in
+horrified amazement. She knew that their eyes were fixed upon her, but
+she was doubtful if they pitied her or not. Just at that moment, however,
+she did not care what their feelings were. She had a momentary sense of
+pleasure on getting into the soft air. A gentle breeze fanned her hot
+cheeks. She took her old sailor hat from a peg and ran fast into a
+distant shrubbery. Miss Tredgold had said that she might take exercise in
+the north walk. If there was a dreary, ugly part of the grounds, it might
+be summed up in the north walk. The old garden wall was on one side of
+it, and a tattered, ugly box-hedge on the other. Nothing was to be seen
+as you walked between the hedge and the wall but the ground beneath your
+feet and the sky above your head. There was no distant view of any sort.
+In addition to this disadvantage, it was in winter an intensely cold
+place, and in summer, notwithstanding its name, an intensely hot place.
+No, Pauline would not go there. She would disobey. She would walk where
+she liked; she would also talk to whom she liked.
+
+She stood for a time leaning against a tree, her face scarlet with
+emotion, her sailor hat flung on the ground. Presently she saw Penelope
+coming towards her. She felt quite glad of this, for Penelope might
+always be bribed. Pauline made up her mind to disobey thoroughly; she
+would walk where she pleased; she would do what she liked; she would talk
+to any one to whom she wished to talk. What was Penelope doing? She was
+bending down and peering on the ground. Beyond doubt she was looking for
+something.
+
+"What is it, Pen?" called out her sister.
+
+Penelope had not seen Pauline until now. She stood upright with a start,
+gazed tranquilly at the girl in disgrace, and then, without uttering a
+word, resumed her occupation of searching diligently on the ground.
+Pauline's face put on its darkest scowl. Her heart gave a thump of wild
+indignation. She went up to Penelope and shook her by the arm. Penelope,
+still without speaking, managed to extricate herself. She moved a few
+feet away. She then again looked full at Pauline, and, to the amazement
+of the elder girl, her bold black eyes filled with tears. She took one
+dirty, chubby hand and blew a kiss to Pauline.
+
+Pauline felt suddenly deeply touched. She very nearly wept herself.
+
+"Oh, dear Penny," she said, "how good you are! I didn't know you'd feel
+for me. I can bear things better if I know you feel for me. You needn't
+obey her, need you? See, I've got three-ha'pence in my pocket. I'll give
+you the money and you can buy lollypops. I will really if only you will
+say a few words to me now."
+
+"I daren't," burst from Penelope's lips. "You have no right to tempt me.
+I can't; I daren't. I am looking now for Aunt Sophy's thimble. She was
+working here yesterday and she dropped it, she doesn't know where. She's
+awful fond of it. She'll give me a penny if I find it. Don't ask me any
+more. I've done very wrong to speak to you."
+
+"So you have," said Pauline, who felt as angry as ever. "You have broken
+Aunt Sophia's word--not your own, for you never said you wouldn't speak
+to me. But go, if you are so honorable. Only please understand that I
+hate every one of you, and I'm never going to obey Aunt Sophia."
+
+Penelope only shook her little person, and presently wandered away into a
+more distant part of the shrubbery. She went on searching and searching.
+Pauline could see her bobbing her little fat person up and down.
+
+"Even Penny," she thought, "is incorruptible. Well, I don't care. I won't
+put up with this unjust punishment."
+
+The dinner-gong sounded, and Pauline, notwithstanding her state of
+disgrace, discovered that she was hungry.
+
+"Why should I eat?" she said to herself. "I won't eat. Then perhaps I'll
+die, and she'll be sorry. She'll be had up for manslaughter; she'll have
+starved a girl to death. No, I won't eat a single thing. And even if I
+don't die I shall be awfully ill, and she'll be in misery. Oh dear! why
+did mother die and leave us? And why did dreadful Aunt Sophy come? Mother
+was never cross; she was never hard. Oh mother! Oh mother!"
+
+Pauline was now so miserable that she flung herself on the ground and
+burst into passionate weeping. Her tears relieved the tension of her
+heart, and she felt slightly better. Presently she raised her head, and
+taking out her handkerchief, prepared to mop her eyes. As she did so she
+was attracted by something that glittered not far off. She stretched out
+her hand and drew Miss Tredgold's thimble from where it had rolled under
+a tuft of dock-leaves. A sudden burst of pleasure escaped her lips as she
+glanced at the thimble. She had not seen it before. It certainly was the
+most beautiful thimble she had ever looked at. She put it on the tip of
+her second finger and turned it round and round. The thimble itself was
+made of solid gold; its base was formed of one beautifully cut sapphire,
+and round the margin of the top of the thimble was a row of turquoises.
+The gold was curiously and wonderfully chased, and the sapphire, which
+formed the entire base of the thimble, shone in a way that dazzled
+Pauline. She was much interested; she forgot that she was hungry, and
+that she had entered into Punishment Land. It seemed to her that in her
+possession of the thimble she had found the means of punishing Aunt
+Sophia. This knowledge soothed her inexpressibly. She slipped the lovely
+thimble into her pocket, and again a keen pang of downright healthy
+hunger seized her. She knew that food would be awaiting her in the
+schoolroom. Should she eat it, or should she go through the wicket-gate
+and lose herself in the surrounding Forest?
+
+Just at this moment a girl, who whistled as she walked, approached the
+wicket-gate, opened it, and came in. She was dressed in smart summer
+clothes; her hat was of a fashionable make, and a heavy fringe lay low on
+her forehead. Pauline looked at her, and her heart gave a thump of
+pleasure. Now, indeed, she could bear her punishment, and her revenge on
+Miss Tredgold lay even at the door. For Nancy King, the girl whom she was
+not allowed to speak to, had entered the grounds.
+
+"Hullo, Paulie!" called out that young lady. "There you are! Well, I must
+say you do look doleful. What's the matter now? Is the dear aristocrat
+more aristocratic than ever?"
+
+"Oh, don't, Nancy! I ought not to speak to you at all."
+
+"So I've been told by the sweet soul herself," responded Nancy. "She
+wrote me a letter which would have put another girl in such a rage that
+she would never have touched any one of you again with a pair of tongs.
+But that's not Nancy King. For when Nancy loves a person, she loves that
+person through thick and thin, through weal and woe. I came to-day to try
+to find one of you dear girls. I have found you. What is the matter with
+you, Paulie? You do look bad."
+
+"I'm very unhappy," said Pauline. "Oh Nancy! we sort of promised that we
+wouldn't have anything more to do with you."
+
+"But you can't keep your promise, can you, darling? So don't say any more
+about it. Anyhow, promise or not, I'm going to kiss you now."
+
+Nancy flung her arms tightly round Pauline's neck and printed several
+loud, resounding kisses on each cheek; then she seated herself under an
+oak tree, and motioned to Pauline to do likewise.
+
+Pauline hesitated just for a moment; then scruples were forgotten, and
+she sat on the ground close to Nancy's side.
+
+"Tell me all about it," said Nancy. "Wipe your eyes and talk. Don't be
+frightened; it's only poor old Nancy, the girl you have known since you
+were that high. And I'm rich, Paulie pet, and although we're only
+farmer-folk, we live in a much finer house than The Dales. And I'm going
+to have a pony soon--a pony of my very own--and my habit is being made
+for me at Southampton. I intend to follow the hounds next winter. Think
+of that, little Paulie. You'll see me as I ride past. I'm supposed to
+have a very good figure, and I shall look ripping in my habit. Well, but
+that's not to the point, is it? You are in trouble, you poor little dear,
+and your old Nancy must try and make matters better for you. I love you,
+little Paulie. I'm fond of you all, but you are my special favorite. You
+were always considered something like me--dark and dour when you liked,
+but sunshiny when you liked also. Now, what is it, Paulie? Tell your own
+Nancy."
+
+"I'm very fond of you, Nancy," replied Pauline. "And I think," she
+continued, "that it is perfectly horrid of Aunt Sophia to say that we are
+not to know you."
+
+"It's snobbish and mean and unlady-like," retorted Nancy; "but her saying
+it doesn't make it a fact, for you do know me, and you will always have
+to know me. And if she thinks, old spiteful! that I'm going to put up
+with her nasty, low, mean, proud ways, she's fine and mistaken. I'm not,
+and that's flat. So there, old spitfire! I shouldn't mind telling her so
+to her face."
+
+"But, on the whole, she has been kind to us," said Pauline, who had some
+sense of justice in her composition, angry as she felt at the moment.
+
+"Has she?" said Nancy. "Then let me tell you she has not a very nice way
+of showing it. Now, Paulie, no more beating about the bush. What's up?
+Your eyes are red; you have a great smear of ink on your forehead; and
+your hands--my word! for so grand a young lady your hands aren't up to
+much, my dear."
+
+"I have got into trouble," said Pauline. "I didn't do my lessons properly
+yesterday; I couldn't--I had a headache, and everything went wrong. So
+this morning I could not say any of them when Aunt Sophia called me up,
+and she put me into Punishment Land. You know, don't you, that I am soon
+to have a birthday?"
+
+"Oh, don't I?" interrupted Nancy. "Didn't a little bird whisper it to me,
+and didn't that same little bird tell me exactly what somebody would like
+somebody else to give her? And didn't that somebody else put her hand
+into her pocket and send---- Oh, we won't say any more, but she did send
+for something for somebody's birthday. Oh, yes, I know. You needn't tell
+me about that birthday, Pauline Dale."
+
+"You are good," said Pauline, completely touched. She wondered what
+possible thing Nancy could have purchased for her. She had a wild desire
+to know what it was. She determined then and there, in her foolish little
+heart, that nothing would induce her to quarrel with Nancy.
+
+"It is something that you like, and something that will spite her," said
+the audacious Nancy. "I thought it all out, and I made up my mind to kill
+two birds with one stone. Now to go on with the pretty little story. We
+didn't please aunty, and we got into trouble. Proceed, Paulie pet."
+
+"I didn't learn my lessons. I was cross, as I said, and headachy, and
+Aunt Sophia said I was to be made an example of, and so she sent me to
+Punishment Land for twenty-four hours."
+
+"Oh, my dear! It sounds awful. What is it?"
+
+"Why, none of my sisters are to speak to me, and I am only to walk in the
+north walk."
+
+"Is this the north walk?" asked Nancy, with a merry twinkle in her black
+eyes.
+
+"Of course it isn't. She may say what she likes, but I'm not going to
+obey her. But the others won't speak to me. I can't make them. And I am
+to take my meals by myself in the schoolroom, and I am to go to bed at
+seven o'clock."
+
+Pauline told her sad narrative in a most lugubrious manner, and she felt
+almost offended at the conclusion when Nancy burst into a roar of
+laughter.
+
+"It's very unkind of you to laugh when I'm so unhappy," said Pauline.
+
+"My dear, how can I help it? It is so ridiculous to treat a girl who is
+practically almost grown up in such a baby fashion. Then I'd like to know
+what authority she has over you."
+
+"That's the worst of it, Nancy. Father has given her authority, and she
+has it in writing. She's awfully clever, and she came round poor father,
+and he had to do what she wanted because he couldn't help himself."
+
+"Jolly mean, I call it," said Nancy. "My dear, you are pretty mad, I
+suppose."
+
+"Wouldn't you be if your father treated you like that?"
+
+"My old dad! He knows better. I've had my swing since I was younger than
+you, Paulie. Of course, at school I had to obey just a little. I wasn't
+allowed to break all the rules, but I did smuggle in a good many
+relaxations. The thing is, you can do what you like at school if only you
+are not found out. Well, I was too clever to be found out. And now I am
+grown up, eighteen last birthday, and I have taken a fancy to cling to my
+old friends, even if they have a snobby, ridiculous old aunt to be rude
+to me. My dear, what nonsense she did write!--all about your being of
+such a good family, and that I wasn't in your station. I shall keep that
+letter. I wouldn't lose it for twenty shillings. What have you to boast
+of after all is said and done? A tumble-down house; horrid, shabby,
+old-fashioned, old-maidy clothes; and never a decent meal to be had."
+
+"But it isn't like that now," said Pauline, finding herself getting very
+red and angry.
+
+"Well, so much the better for you. And did I make the little mousy-pousy
+angry? I won't, then, any more, for Nancy loves little mousy-pousy, and
+would like to do what she could for her. You love me back, don't you,
+mousy?"
+
+"Yes, Nancy, I do love you, and I think it's a horrid shame that we're
+not allowed to be with you. But, all the same, I'd rather you didn't call
+me mousy."
+
+"Oh dear, how dignified we are! I shall begin to believe in the ancient
+family if this sort of thing continues. But now, my dear, the moment has
+come to help you. The hour has arrived when your own Nancy, vulgar as she
+is, can lend you a helping hand. Listen."
+
+"What?" said Pauline.
+
+"Jump up, Paulie; take my hand, and you and I together will walk out
+through that wicket-gate, and go back through the dear old Forest to The
+Hollies, and spend the day at my home. There are my boy cousins from
+London, and my two friends, Rebecca and Amelia Perkins--jolly girls, I
+can tell you. We shall have larks. What do you say, Paulie? A fine fright
+she'll be in when she misses you. Serve her right, though."
+
+"But I daren't come with you," said Pauline. "I'd love it more than
+anything in the world; but I daren't. You mustn't ask me. You mustn't try
+to tempt me, Nancy, for I daren't go."
+
+"I didn't know you were so nervous."
+
+"I am nervous about a thing like that. Wild as I have been, and untrained
+all my life, I do not think I am out-and-out wicked. It would be wicked
+to go away without leave. I'd be too wretched. Oh, I daren't think of
+it!"
+
+Nancy pursed up her lips while Pauline was speaking; then she gave vent
+to a low, almost incredulous whistle. Finally she sprang to her feet.
+
+"I am not the one to try and make you forget your scruples," she said.
+"Suppose you do this. Suppose you come at seven o'clock to-night. Then
+you will be safe. You may be wicked, but at least you will be safe.
+She'll never look for you, nor think of you again, when once you have
+gone up to bed. You have a room to yourself, have you not?"
+
+Pauline nodded.
+
+"I thought so. You will go to your room, lock the door, and she will
+think it is all right. The others won't care to disturb you. If they do
+they'll find the door locked."
+
+"But I am forbidden to lock my room door."
+
+"They will call to you, but you will not answer. They may be angry, but I
+don't suppose your sisters will tell on you, and they will only suppose you
+are sound asleep. Meanwhile you will be having a jolly good time; for I can
+tell you we are going to have sport to-night at The Hollies--fireworks,
+games, plans for the future, etc., etc. You can share my nice bed, and go
+back quite early in the morning. I have a lot to talk over with you. I want
+to arrange about our midnight picnic."
+
+"But, Nancy, we can't have a midnight picnic."
+
+"Can't we? I don't see that at all. I tell you what--we will have it; and
+we'll have it on your birthday. Your birthday is in a week. That will be
+just splendid. The moon will be at the full, and you must all of you
+come. Do you suppose I'm going to be balked of my fun by a stupid old
+woman? Ah! you little know me. My boy cousins, Jack and Tom, and my
+friends, Becky and Amy, have made all arrangements. We are going to have
+a time! Of course, if you are not there, you don't suppose our fun will
+be stopped! You'll hear us laughing in the glades. You won't like that,
+will you? But we needn't say any more until seven o'clock to-night."
+
+"I don't think I'm coming."
+
+"But you are, Paulie. No one will know, and you must have a bit of fun.
+Perhaps I'll show you the present I'm going to give you on your birthday;
+there's no saying what I may do; only you must come."
+
+Nancy had been standing all this time. Pauline had been reclining on the
+ground. Now she also rose to her feet.
+
+"You excite me," she said. "I long to go, and yet I am afraid; it would
+be so awfully wicked."
+
+"It would be wicked if she was your mother, but she's not. And she has no
+right to have any control over you. She just got round your silly old
+father----"
+
+"I won't have dad called silly!"
+
+"Well, your learned and abstracted father. It all comes to much the same.
+Now think the matter over. You needn't decide just this minute. I shall
+come to the wicket-gate at half-past seven, and if you like to meet me,
+why, you can; but if you are still too good, and your conscience is too
+troublesome, and your scruples too keen, you need not come. I shall quite
+understand. In that case, perhaps, I'd best not give you that lovely,
+lovely present that I saved up so much money to buy."
+
+Pauline clasped her hands and stepped away from Nancy. As she did so the
+breeze caught her full gray skirt and caused it to blow against Nancy.
+Nancy stretched out her hand and caught hold of Pauline's pocket.
+
+"What is this hard thing?" she cried. "Have you got a nut in your
+pocket?"
+
+"No," said Pauline, instantly smiling and dimpling. "Oh, Nancy, such
+fun!"
+
+She dived into her pocket and produced Miss Tredgold's thimble.
+
+"Oh, I say!" cried Nancy. "What a beauty! Who in the world gave you this
+treasure, Paulie?"
+
+"It isn't mine at all; it belongs to Aunt Sophia."
+
+"You sly little thing! You took it from her?"
+
+"No, I didn't. I'm not a thief. I saw it in the grass a few minutes ago
+and picked it up. It had rolled just under that dock-leaf. Isn't it
+sweet? I shall give it back to her after she has forgiven me to-morrow."
+
+"What a charming, return-good-for-evil character you have suddenly
+become, Pauline!"
+
+As Nancy spoke she poised the thimble on her second finger. Her fingers
+were small, white, and tapering. The thimble exactly fitted the narrow
+tip on which it rested.
+
+"I never saw anything so lovely," she cried. "Never mind, Paulie, about
+to-morrow. Lend it to me. I'd give my eyes to show it to Becky."
+
+"But why should I lend it to you? I must return it to Aunt Sophia."
+
+"You surely won't give it back to her to-day."
+
+"No, but to-morrow."
+
+"Let to-morrow take care of itself. I want to show this thimble to Becky
+and Amy. I have a reason. You won't refuse one who is so truly kind to
+you, will you, little Paulie? And I tell you what: I know you are
+starving, and you hate to go into the house for your food. I will bring
+you a basketful of apples, chocolates, and a peach or two. We have lovely
+peaches ripe in our garden now, although we are such common folk."
+
+Pauline felt thirsty. Her hunger, too, was getting worse. She would have
+given a good deal to have been able to refuse the horrid meals which
+would be served to her in the schoolroom. Perhaps she could manage
+without any other food if she had enough fruit.
+
+"I should like some very much," she said. "Aunt Sophia has, as she calls
+it, preserved the orchard. We are not allowed to go into it."
+
+"Mean cat!" cried Nancy.
+
+"So will you really send me a basket of fruit?"
+
+"I will send Tom with it the instant I get home. He runs like the wind.
+You may expect to find it waiting for you in half-an-hour."
+
+"Thank you. And you will take great care of the thimble, won't you?"
+
+"Of course I will, child. It is a beauty."
+
+Without more ado Nancy slipped the thimble into her pocket, and then
+nodding to Pauline, and telling her that she would wait for her at the
+wicket-gate at half-past seven, she left her.
+
+Nancy swung her body as she walked, and Pauline stood and watched her.
+She thought that Nancy looked very grown-up and very stylish. To look
+stylish seemed better than to look pretty in the eyes of the
+inexperienced little girl. She could not help having a great admiration
+for her friend.
+
+"She is very brave, and so generous; and she knows such a lot of the
+world!" thought poor Pauline. "It is a shame not to be allowed to see her
+whenever one likes. And it would be just heavenly to go to her to-night,
+instead of spending hungry hours awake in my horrid bedroom."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+DISCIPLINE.
+
+
+The other girls were miserable; but Miss Tredgold had already exercised
+such a very strong influence over them that they did not dare to disobey
+her orders. Much as they longed to do so, none of them ventured near poor
+Pauline. In the course of the afternoon Miss Tredgold called Verena
+aside.
+
+"I know well, my dear, what you are thinking," she said. "You believe
+that I am terribly hard on your sister."
+
+Verena's eyes sought the ground.
+
+"Yes, I quite know what you think," repeated Miss Tredgold. "But, Verena,
+you are wrong. At least, if I am hard, it is for her good."
+
+"But can it do any one good to be downright cruel to her?" said Verena.
+
+"I am not cruel, but I have given her a more severe punishment than she
+has ever received before in her life. We all, the best of us, need
+discipline. The first time we experience it when it comes from the hand
+of God we murmur and struggle and rebel. But there comes a time when we
+neither murmur nor struggle nor rebel. When that time arrives the
+discipline has done its perfect work, and God removes it. My dear Verena,
+I am a woman old enough to be your mother. You must trust me, and believe
+that I am treating Pauline in the manner I am to-day out of the
+experience of life that God has given me. We are so made, my dear, that
+we none of us are any good until our wills are broken to the will of our
+Divine Master."
+
+"But this is not God's will, is it?" said Verena. "It is your will."
+
+"Consider for a moment, my child. It is, I believe, both God's will and
+mine. Don't you want Pauline to be a cultivated woman? Don't you want her
+character to be balanced? Don't you want her to be educated? There is a
+great deal that is good in her. She has plenty of natural talent. Her
+character, too, is strong and sturdy. But at present she is like a flower
+run to weed. In such a case what would the gardener do?"
+
+"I suppose he would prune the flower."
+
+"If it was a hopeless weed he would cast it out of his garden; but if it
+really was a flower that had degenerated into a weed, he would take it up
+and put it to some pain, and plant it again in fresh soil. The poor
+little plant might say it was badly treated when it was taken from its
+surroundings and its old life. This is very much the case with Pauline.
+Now, I do not wish her to associate with Nancy King. I do not wish her to
+be idle or inattentive. I want her to be energetic, full of purpose,
+resolved to do her best, and to take advantage of those opportunities
+which have come to you all, my dear, when I, your mother's sister, took
+up my abode at The Dales. Sometime, dear, it is quite possible that,
+owing to what will be begun in Pauline's character to-day, people will
+stop and admire the lovely flower. They will know that the gardener who
+put it to some pain and trouble was wise and right. Now, my dear girl,
+you will remember my little lecture. Pauline needs discipline. For that
+matter, you all need discipline. At first such treatment is hard, but in
+the end it is salutary."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Sophy," said Verena. "But perhaps," she added, "you will
+try and remember, too, that kindness goes a long way. Pauline is perhaps
+the most affectionate of us all. In some ways she has the deepest
+feelings. But she can be awfully sulky, and only kindness can move her."
+
+"I quite understand, my dear; and when the time comes kindness will not
+be wanting. Now go away and amuse yourself with your sisters."
+
+Verena went away. She wondered as she did so where Pauline was hiding
+herself. The others had all settled down to their various amusements and
+occupations. They were sorry for Pauline, but the pleasant time they were
+enjoying in the middle of this lovely summer's day was not to be
+despised, even if their sister was under punishment. But Verena herself
+could not rest. She went into the schoolroom. On a tray stood poor
+Pauline's neglected dinner. Verena lifted the cover from the plate, and
+felt as though she must cry.
+
+"Pauline is taking it hardly," thought the elder girl.
+
+Tea-time came, and Pauline's tea was also sent to the schoolroom. At
+preparation hour, when the rest of the girls went into the room,
+Pauline's tea remained just where it had been placed an hour before.
+Verena could scarcely bear herself. There must be something terribly
+wrong with her sister. They had often been hungry in the old days, but in
+the case of a hearty, healthy girl, to do without any food from
+breakfast-time when there was plenty to eat was something to regard with
+uneasiness.
+
+Presently, however, to her relief, Pauline came in. She looked rough and
+untidy in appearance. She slipped into the nearest chair in a sulky,
+ungainly fashion, and taking up a battered spelling-book, she held it
+upside down.
+
+Verena gave her a quick glance and looked away. Pauline would not meet
+Verena's anxious gaze. She kept on looking down. Occasionally her lips
+moved. There was a red stain on her cheek. Penelope with one of her
+sharpest glances perceived this.
+
+"It is caused by fruit," thought the youngest of the schoolroom children.
+"I wonder who has given Pauline fruit. Did she climb the garden wall or
+get over the gate into the orchard?"
+
+Nobody else noticed this stain. Miss Tredgold came in presently, but she
+took no more notice of Pauline than if that young lady did not exist.
+
+The hour of preparation was over. It was now six o'clock. In an hour
+Pauline was expected to go to bed. Now, Pauline and Verena had bedrooms
+to themselves. These were attic rooms at the top of the house. They had
+sloping roofs, and would have been much too hot in summer but for the
+presence of a big beech tree, which grew to within a few feet of the
+windows. More than once the girls in their emancipated days, as they now
+considered them, used to climb down the beech tree from their attic
+windows, and on a few occasions had even managed to climb up the same
+way. They loved their rooms, having slept in them during the greater part
+of their lives.
+
+Pauline, as she now went in the direction of the north walk, thought with
+a sense of satisfaction of the bedroom she had to herself.
+
+"It will make things easier," she thought. "They will all be on the lawn
+doing their needlework, and Aunt Sophia will be reading to them. I will
+go past them quite quietly to my room, and then----"
+
+These thoughts made Pauline comparatively happy. Once or twice she
+smiled, and a vindictive, ugly expression visited her small face.
+
+"She little knows," thought the girl. "Oh, she little knows! She thinks
+that she is so clever--so terribly clever; but, after all, she has not
+the least idea of the right way to treat me. No, she has not the least
+idea. And perhaps by-and-by she will be sorry for what she has done."
+
+Seven o'clock was heard to strike in the house. Pauline, retracing her
+steps, went slowly past her sisters and Miss Tredgold. Miss Tredgold
+slightly raised her voice as the culprit appeared. She read aloud with
+more determination than ever. Penelope flung down the duster she was
+hemming and watched Pauline.
+
+"I a'most wish I wor her," thought the ex-nursery child. "Anything is
+better than this horrid sewing. How it pricks my fingers! That reminds
+me; I wonder where Aunt Sophy's thimble has got to. I did look hard for
+it. I wish I could find it. I do want that penny so much! It was a beauty
+thimble, too, and she loves it. I don't want to give it back to her 'cos
+she loves it, but I should like my penny."
+
+Pauline had now nearly disappeared from view.
+
+"Paulie is up to a lark," thought Penelope, who was the sharpest of all
+the children, and read motives as though she was reading an open book.
+"She doesn't walk as though she was tur'ble unhappy. I wonder what she's
+up to. And that red stain on her cheek was fruit; course it was fruit.
+How did she get it? I wish I knew. I'll try and find out."
+
+Pauline had now reached her bedroom. There she hastily put on her best
+clothes. They were very simple, but, under Miss Tredgold's regime, fairly
+nice. She was soon attired in a neat white frock; and an old yellow sash
+of doubtful cleanliness and a bunch of frowsy red poppies were folded in
+a piece of tissue paper. Pauline then slipped on her sailor hat. She had
+a great love for the old sash; and as to the poppies, she thought them
+far more beautiful than any real flowers that ever grew. She meant to tie
+the yellow sash round her waist when she reached the shrubbery, and to
+pin the poppies into her hat. The fact that Miss Tredgold had forbidden
+her to wear this sash, and had herself removed the poppies from her
+Sunday hat, gave her now a sense of satisfaction.
+
+"Young ladies don't wear things of that sort," Miss Tredgold had said.
+
+"A young lady shall wear things of this sort to-night," thought Pauline.
+
+Having finished her toilet, she locked her door from the outside and put
+the key into her pocket; but before she left the room she drew down the
+dark-green blind. She then slipped downstairs and went out through the
+back way. She had to go through the yard, but no one saw her except
+Betty, who, as she afterwards remarked, did observe the flutter of a
+white dress with the tail of her eye. But Betty at that moment was
+immersed in a fresh installment of the wonderful adventures of the Duke
+of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton and his bride, and what did it matter to her
+if the young ladies chose to run out in their best frocks?
+
+Pauline reached the shrubbery without further adventure. There she put on
+her extra finery. Her yellow sash was tied in a large bow, and her
+poppies nodded over her forehead.
+
+It was a very excited dark-eyed girl who presently met Nancy King on the
+other side of the wicket-gate.
+
+"Here I am," said Pauline. "I expect I shall never have any luck again
+all my life; but I want to spite her at any cost, so here I am."
+
+"Delicious!" said Nancy. "Isn't it good to spite the old cat? Now then,
+let's be off, or we may be caught. But I say, how fine we are!"
+
+"You always admired this bunch of poppies, didn't you, Nancy? Do you
+remember? Before you went to that grand school at Brighton you used to
+envy me my poppies. I found them among mother's old things, and Verena
+gave them to me. I love them like anything. Don't you like them very
+much, placed so in front of my hat?"
+
+"Didn't I say, 'How fine we are'?"
+
+"Yes; but somehow your tone----"
+
+"My dear Paulie, you are getting much too learned for my taste. Now come
+along. Take my hand. Let us run. Let me tell you, you look charming. The
+girls will admire you wonderfully. Amy and Becky are keen to make your
+acquaintance. You can call them by their Christian names; they're not at
+all stiff. Surname, Perkins. Nice girls--brought up at my school--father
+in the pork line; jolly girls--very. And, of course, you met Jack and Tom
+last year. They're out fishing at present. They'll bring in beautiful
+trout for supper. Why, you poor little thing, you must be starved."
+
+"Ravenous. You know I had only your fruit to-day."
+
+"You shall have a downright jolly meal, and afterwards we'll have
+fireworks; and then by-and-by you will share my bed. Amy and Becky will
+be in the same room. They think there's a ghost at the other side of the
+passage, so they came along to my chamber. But you won't mind."
+
+"I won't mind anything after my lonely day. You are quite sure that I'll
+get back in time in the morning, Nancy?"
+
+"Trust me for that. Haven't you got the key of your room?"
+
+"Yes; it's in my pocket. I left the window on the latch, and I can climb
+up the beech tree quite well. Oh! that reminds me, Nancy; you must let me
+have that thimble before I return to The Dales."
+
+"To be sure I will, dear. But you needn't think of returning yet, for you
+have not even arrived. Your fun is only beginning. Oh! you have done a
+splendid, spirited thing running off in this fashion. I only hope she'll
+go to your room and tap and tap, and knock and knock, and shout and
+shout, and get, oh, so frightened! and have the door burst open; and then
+she'll see for herself that the bird has flown. Won't she be in a tantrum
+and a fright! Horrid old thing! She'll think that you have run off
+forever. Serve her right. Oh! I almost wish she would do it--that I do."
+
+"But I don't," said Pauline. "If she did such a thing it would almost
+kill me. It's all very well for you to talk in that fashion; you haven't
+got to live with her; but I have, and I couldn't stand her anger and her
+contempt. I'd be put into Punishment Land for a year. And as one day has
+very nearly killed me, what would a year of it do? If there is any fear
+of what you wish for, I'd best go back at once."
+
+"What! and lose the trout, and the game pie, and the steak and onions,
+and the fried potatoes, and the apple turnovers, and the plum puffs, to
+say nothing of the most delicious lollypops you have ever tasted in your
+life? And afterwards fireworks; for Jack and Tom have bought a lot of
+Catherine-wheels and rockets to let off in your honor. And then a cosy,
+warm hug in my bed, with Amy and Becky telling ghost stories in the bed
+opposite. You don't mean to tell me you'd rather have your lonely room
+and starvation than a program of that sort?"
+
+"No, no. Of course I'll go on with you. I've done it now, so I'll stick
+to it. Oh, I'm madly hungry! I hope you'll have supper the moment we get
+in."
+
+"Supper will be delayed as short a time as possible. It rather depends
+upon the boys and when they bring the trout home. But here is a queen
+cake. I stuffed it into my pocket for you. Eat it as we go along."
+
+So Pauline ate it and felt better. Her courage returned. She no longer
+thought of going back. Had she done so, she knew well that she would not
+sleep. People never slept well if they were hungry.
+
+"No," she said to herself; "I will go on with it now. I'll just trust to
+my good luck, and I'll enjoy the time with Nancy. For, after all, she's
+twice as kind as Aunt Sophia. Why should I make myself miserable on
+account of a woman who is not my mother?"
+
+The Hollies was a very snug, old-fashioned sort of farm. It had been in
+the King family for generations, and Mr. Josiah King was a very fine
+specimen of the British farmer. He was a big man with a red face, bushy
+whiskers, grizzled hair, and a loud laugh. The expression of his broad,
+square face was somewhat fierce, and the servants at the farm were afraid
+to anger him. He was a just enough master, however, and was always served
+well by his people. To only one person was he completely mild and gentle,
+and that person, it is needless to say, was his daughter Nancy. Nancy was
+his only child. Her mother was dead, and from her earliest days she had
+been able to twist her father round her little finger. He sent her to a
+smart boarding school, and no money was spared in order to give her
+pleasure. It was the dream of Farmer King, and Nancy's dearest ambition
+also, that she should be turned into a lady. But, alas and alack! Miss
+Nancy could not overcome the stout yeoman blood in her veins. She was no
+aristocrat, and nothing could make her one. She was just a hearty,
+healthy happy-minded English girl; vulgar in voice and loud in speech,
+but fairly well-intentioned at heart. She was the sort of farmer's
+daughter who would marry a farmer, and look after the dairy, and rear
+stalwart sons and hearty girls in her turn. Nature never intended her for
+a fine lady; but silly Nancy had learnt a great deal more at school than
+how to talk a little French very badly and how to recite a poem with
+false action and sentiment. She had learnt to esteem the world for the
+world's own sake, and had become a little ashamed of the farmer and the
+farmer's ways; and, finally, when she returned from school she insisted
+on the best parlor being turned into a sort of drawing-room, on her
+friends being regaled with late dinners, and on herself being provided
+with servants, so that she need not touch household work. She was
+playing, therefore, the game of being a lady, and was failing as she
+played it. She knew that she was failing, and this knowledge made her
+feel very cross. She tried hard to stifle it, and clung more than ever to
+her acquaintanceship with the Dale girls.
+
+In her heart of hearts Nancy knew that she would very much like to milk
+the cows, and superintend the dairy, and churn the butter. In her heart
+of hearts she would have adored getting up early in the morning and
+searching for the warm, pink eggs, and riding barebacked over the farm
+with her father, consulting him on the tilling of the land and the best
+way to make the old place profitable; for one day it would be her own,
+and she would be, for her class in life, a rich girl. Just at present,
+however, she was passing through a phase, and not a very pleasant one.
+She thought herself quite good enough to go into any society; and fine
+dress, loud-voiced friends, and the hollow, empty nothings which she and
+her acquaintances called conversation seemed the best things possible
+that could come into life. She was, therefore, not at all in the mood to
+give up her friendship with the Dale girls.
+
+Now, there never was a girl less likely to please Miss Tredgold than this
+vulgarly dressed, loud-voiced, and unlady-like girl. Nancy was desired to
+abstain from visiting at The Dales, and the Dale girls were told that
+they were not to talk to Nancy. Nancy's rapture, therefore, when she was
+able to bring Pauline to The Hollies could scarcely be suppressed.
+
+Amy and Becky Perkins were standing in the old porch when the two girls
+appeared. Nancy called out to her friends, and they ran to meet her.
+
+"This is Paulie," said Nancy; "in other words, Pauline Dale--Pauline
+Dale, the aristocrat. We ought to be proud to know her, girls. Pauline,
+let me introduce my special friend, Becky Perkins. She's in pork, but
+that don't matter. And my other special friend, Amy Perkins; also in
+pork, but at your service. Girls, you didn't happen to notice if supper
+was being put on the table, did you?"
+
+"I should think we did," said Becky. "I smelt fish. The boys brought in a
+lot of trout. I'm as hungry as hungry can be."
+
+"Let's run upstairs first," said Nancy, turning to Pauline. "You'd like
+to take off your hat and wash your hands, wouldn't you, my fine friend of
+aristocratic circles?"
+
+"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Nancy," said Pauline, flushing
+angrily, while the two Perkins girls looked at her with admiration.
+
+"Well, then, I won't," said Nancy; "but I'm always one for my joke. I
+meant no harm. And you know you are aristocratic, Paulie, and nothing
+will ever take it out of you. And I'm terribly afraid that nothing will
+take the other thing out of me. I only talk to you like this because I'm
+so jealous. So now come along and let's be friends."
+
+The two girls scampered up the old oak stairs. They ran down an uneven
+passage, and reached a door of black oak, which was opened with an
+old-fashioned latch. At the other side of the door they found themselves
+in a long and very low room, with a black oak floor and black oak walls.
+The floor of the room was extremely uneven, being up in one part and down
+in another, and the whole appearance of the room, although fascinating,
+was decidedly patchy. In an alcove at one end stood a four-post bedstead,
+with a gaudily colored quilt flung over it; and in the alcove at the
+other end was another four-post bedstead, also boasting of a colored
+quilt. There were two washstands in the room, and one dressing-table. The
+whole place was scrupulously neat and exquisitely clean, for the white
+dimity curtains rivalled the snow in winter, and the deal washstands and
+the deal dressing-table were as white as the scrubbing of honest hands
+could make them. The whole room smelt of a curious mixture of turpentine,
+soap, and fresh flowers.
+
+"I had the lavender sheets put on the bed for you and me," said Nancy.
+"They are of the finest linen. My mother spun them herself, and she put
+them in lavender years and years ago. I am heartily glad to welcome you,
+little Paulie. This is the very first time you have ever slept under our
+humble roof. So kiss me, dear."
+
+"How snug and sweet it all is!" said Pauline. "I am glad that I came."
+
+"This is better than lying down hungry in your own little room," said
+Nancy.
+
+"Oh, much better!"
+
+Pauline skipped about. Her high spirits had returned; she was charmed
+with the room in which she was to repose. Through the lattice window the
+sweetest summer air was entering, and roses peeped all round the frame,
+and their sweet scent added to the charm of the old-fashioned chamber.
+
+"I hope you won't mind having supper in the kitchen," said Nancy. "I know
+it's what a Dale is not expected to submit to; but, nevertheless, in Rome
+we do as the Romans do--don't we?"
+
+"Oh, yes; but I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Nancy. As if I cared.
+Whether I am a lady or not, I am never too fine for my company; and it
+was when Aunt Sophia wanted us to give you up that I really got mad with
+her."
+
+"You are a darling and a duck, and I love you like anything," said Nancy.
+"Now come downstairs. We are all hungry, and the boys are mad to be at
+the fireworks."
+
+"I have never seen fireworks in my life," said Pauline.
+
+"You poor little innocent! What a lot the world has to show you! Now
+then, come along."
+
+Pauline, deprived of her hideous hat, looked pretty and refined in her
+white dress. She made a contrast to the showy Nancy and the Perkins
+girls. The boys, Jack and Tom Watson, looked at her with admiration, and
+Jack put a seat for Pauline between himself and his brother.
+
+The farmer nodded to her, and said in his bluff voice:
+
+"Glad to welcome you under my humble roof, Miss Pauline Dale. 'Eartily
+welcome you be. Now then, young folks, fall to."
+
+The meal proceeded to the accompaniment of loud jokes, gay laughter, and
+hearty talking. The farmer's voice topped the others. Each remark called
+forth fresh shouts of laughter; and when a number of dogs rushed in in
+the middle of supper, the din almost rose to an uproar.
+
+Pauline enjoyed it all very much. She laughed with the others; her cheeks
+grew rosy. Nancy piled her plate with every available dainty. Soon her
+hunger left her, and she believed that she was intensely happy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE BURNT ARM.
+
+
+After supper the excitement waxed fast and furious. The boys, aided by
+the farmer and one of his men, proceeded to send off the fireworks. This
+was done on a little plateau of smoothly cut lawn just in front of the
+best sitting-room windows. The girls pressed their faces against the
+glass, and for a time were satisfied with this way of looking at the fun.
+But soon Nancy could bear it no longer.
+
+"It is stupid to be mewed up in the close air," she said. "Let's go out."
+
+No sooner had she given utterance to the words than all four girls were
+helping the boys to let off the squibs, Catherine-wheels, rockets, and
+other fireworks. Pauline now became nearly mad with delight. Her shouts
+were the loudest of any. When the rockets went high into the air and
+burst into a thousand stars, she did not believe that the world itself
+could contain a more lovely sight. But presently her happiness came to a
+rude conclusion, for a bit of burning squib struck her arm, causing her
+fine muslin dress to catch fire, and the little girl's arm was somewhat
+severely hurt. She put out the fire at once, and determined to hide the
+fact that she was rather badly burnt.
+
+By-and-by they all returned to the house. Nancy sat down to the piano and
+began to sing some of her most rollicking songs. Then she played dance
+music, and the boys and girls danced with all their might. Pauline,
+however, had never learned to dance. She stood silent, watching the
+others. Her high spirits had gone down to zero. She now began to wish
+that she had never come. She wondered if she could possibly get home
+again without being discovered. At last Nancy noticed her grave looks.
+
+"You are tired, Paulie," she said; "and for that matter, so are we. I
+say, it's full time for bed. Good-night, boys. Put out the lamps when you
+are tired of amusing yourselves. Dad has shut up the house already. Come,
+Paulie; come, Amy; come, Becky."
+
+The four girls ran upstairs, but as they were going down the passage
+which led to their pretty bedroom, Pauline's pain was so great that she
+stumbled against Becky and nearly fell.
+
+"What is it?" said Becky. "Are you faint?"
+
+She put her arm around the little girl and helped her into the bedroom.
+
+"Whatever can be wrong?" she said. "You seemed so lively out in the open
+air."
+
+"Oh, you do look bad, Paulie!" said Nancy. "It is that terrible fasting
+you went through to-day. My dear girls, what do you think? This poor
+little aristocrat, far and away too good to talk to the likes of
+us"--here Nancy put her arms akimbo and looked down with a mocking laugh
+at the prostrate Pauline--"far too grand, girls--fact, I assure you--was
+kept without her food until I gave her a bit of bread and a sup of water
+at supper. All these things are owing to an aunt--one of the tip-top of
+the nobility. This aunt, though grand externally, has a mighty poor
+internal arrangement, to my way of thinking. She put the poor child into
+a place she calls Punishment Land, and kept her without food."
+
+"That isn't true," said Pauline. "I could have had plenty to eat if I had
+liked."
+
+"That means that if you were destitute of one little spark of spirit
+you'd have crawled back to the house to take your broken food on a cold
+plate like a dog. But what is the matter now? Hungry again?"
+
+"No; it is my arm. Please don't touch it."
+
+"Do look!" cried Amy Perkins. "Oh, Nancy, she has got an awful burn!
+There's quite a hole through the sleeve of her dress. Oh, do see this
+great blister!"
+
+"It was a bit of one of the squibs," said Pauline. "It lit right on my
+arm and burned my muslin sleeve; but I don't suppose it's much hurt, only
+I feel a little faint."
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Nancy. "What is to be done now? I don't know a thing
+about burns, or about any sort of illness. Shall we wake cook up? Perhaps
+she can tell us something."
+
+"Let's put on a bandage," said one of the other girls. "Then when you lie
+down in bed, Pauline, you will drop asleep and be all right in the
+morning."
+
+Pauline was so utterly weary that she was glad to creep into bed. Her arm
+was bandaged very unskilfully; nevertheless it felt slightly more
+comfortable. Presently she dropped into an uneasy doze; but from that
+doze she awoke soon after midnight, to hear Nancy snoring loudly by her
+side, to hear corresponding snores in a sort of chorus coming from the
+other end of the long room, and to observe also that there was not a
+chink of light anywhere; and, finally, to be all too terribly conscious
+of a great burning pain in her arm. That pain seemed to awaken poor
+Pauline's slumbering conscience.
+
+"Why did I come?" she said to herself. "I am a wretched, most miserable
+girl. And how am I ever to get back? I cannot climb into the beech-tree
+with this bad arm. Oh, how it does hurt me! I feel so sick and faint I
+scarcely care what happens."
+
+Pauline stretched out her uninjured arm and touched Nancy.
+
+"What is it?" said Nancy. "Oh, dear! I'd forgotten. It's you, Paulie. How
+is your arm, my little dear? Any better?"
+
+"It hurts me very badly indeed; but never mind about that now. How am I
+to get home?"
+
+"I'll manage that. Betty, our dairymaid, is to throw gravel up at the
+window at four o'clock. You shall have a cup of tea before you start, and
+I will walk with you as far as the wicket-gate."
+
+"Oh, thank you! But how am I to get into my room when I do arrive at The
+Dales? I don't believe I shall be able to use this arm at all."
+
+"Of course you will," said Nancy. "You will be miles better when cook has
+looked to it. I know she's grand about burns, and has a famous ointment
+she uses for the purpose. Only, for goodness' sake, Paulie, don't let
+that burn in the sleeve of your dress be seen; that would lead to
+consequences, and I don't want my midnight picnic to be spoilt."
+
+"I don't seem to care about that or anything else any more."
+
+"What nonsense! You don't suppose I should like this little escapade of
+yours and mine to be known. You must take care. Why, you know, there's
+father. He's very crotchety over some things. He likes all of you, but
+over and over again he has said:
+
+"'I'm as proud of being an honest farmer as I should be to be a lord. My
+grandfather paid his way, and my father paid his way, and I am paying my
+way. There's no nonsense about me, and I shall leave you, Nancy, a tidy
+fortune. You like those young ladies at The Dales, and you shall have
+them come here if they wish to come, but not otherwise. I won't have them
+here thinking themselves too grand to talk to us. Let them keep to their
+own station, say I. I don't want them.'
+
+"Now you see, Paulie, what that means. If father found out that your aunt
+had written to me and desired me to have nothing further to do with you,
+I believe he'd pack me out of the country to-morrow. I don't want to
+leave my home; why should I? So, you see, for my sake you must keep it
+the closest of close secrets."
+
+"You should have thought of that before you tempted me to come," said
+Pauline.
+
+"That is just like you. You come here and enjoy yourself, and have a
+great hearty meal, and when you are likely to get into a scrape you throw
+the blame on me."
+
+"You can understand that I am very miserable, Nancy."
+
+"Yes; and I'm as sorry as I can be about that burn; but if you'll be
+brave and plucky now, I'll help you all I can. We'll get up as soon as
+ever the day dawns, and cook shall put your arm straight."
+
+As Nancy uttered the last words her voice dwindled to a whisper, and a
+minute later she was again sound asleep. But Pauline could not sleep. Her
+pain was too great. The summer light stole in by degrees, and by-and-by
+the sharp noise made by a shower of gravel was heard on the window.
+
+Pauline sprang into a sitting posture, and Nancy rubbed her eyes.
+
+"I'm dead with sleep," she said. "I could almost wish I hadn't brought
+you. Not but that I'm fond of you, as I think I've proved. We haven't yet
+made all our arrangements about the midnight picnic, but I have the most
+daring scheme in my head. You are every single one of you--bar Penelope,
+whom I can't bear--to come to that picnic. I'll make my final plans
+to-day, and I'll walk in the Forest to-morrow at six o'clock, just
+outside your wicket-gate. You will meet me, won't you?"
+
+"But---- Oh! by the way, Nancy, please give me back that beautiful
+thimble. I'm so glad I remembered it! It belongs to Aunt Sophia."
+
+"I can't," said Nancy, coloring, "I lent it to Becky, and I don't know
+where she has put it. I'll bring it with me to-morrow, so don't fuss. Now
+jump up, Paulie; we have no time to lose."
+
+Accordingly Pauline got up, dressed herself--very awkwardly, it is
+true--and went downstairs, leaning on Nancy's sympathetic arm. Nancy
+consulted the cook, who was good-natured and red-faced.
+
+"You have got a bad burn, miss," she said when she had examined Pauline's
+arm; "but I have got a famous plaster that heals up burns like anything.
+I'll make your arm quite comfortable in a twinkling, miss."
+
+This she proceeded to do, and before the treatment had been applied for
+half an hour a good deal of Pauline's acute pain had vanished.
+
+"I feel better," she said, turning to Nancy. "I feel stronger and
+braver."
+
+"You will feel still braver when you have had your cup of tea. And here's
+a nice hunch of cake. Put it into your pocket if you can't eat it now. We
+had best be going; the farm people may be about, and there's no
+saying--it's wonderful how secrets get into the air."
+
+Pauline looked startled. She again took Nancy's hand, and they left the
+house together.
+
+Now, it so happened that the the morning was by no means as fine as those
+lovely mornings that had preceded it. There was quite a cold wind
+blowing, and the sky was laden with clouds.
+
+"We'll have rain to-day," said Nancy; "rain, and perhaps thunder. I feel
+thunder in the air, and I never was mistaken yet. We must be quick, or
+we'll both be drenched to the skin."
+
+Accordingly the two walked quickly through the Forest path. But before
+they reached the wicket-gate the first mutterings of thunder were
+audible, and heavy drops of rain were falling.
+
+"I must leave you now, Paulie," said Nancy, "for if I go any farther I'll
+be drenched to the skin. Climb up your tree, get into your bedroom, and
+go to bed. If you can manage to send that white dress over to me, I will
+put on a patch that even your aunt will not see. Put on another dress, of
+course, this morning, and say nothing about the burn. Good-bye, and good
+luck! I'll be over about six o'clock to-morrow evening to talk over our
+midnight picnic."
+
+"And the thimble," said Pauline. "You won't forget the thimble."
+
+"Not I. Good gracious, what a flash! You had best get home at once; and I
+must run for my life or I may be struck down under all these trees."
+
+Pauline stood still for a minute, watching Nancy as she disappeared from
+view; then slowly and sadly she went up to the house.
+
+She was too tired and depressed to mind very much that the rain was
+falling in showers, soaking her thin white muslin dress, and chilling her
+already tired and exhausted little frame. The rattle of the thunder, the
+bright flash of the lightning, and the heavy fall of the tempest could
+not reach the graver trouble which filled her heart. The way of
+transgressors had proved itself very hard for poor Pauline. She disliked
+the discomfort and misery she was enduring; but even now she was scarcely
+sorry that she had defied and disobeyed Aunt Sophia.
+
+After a great deal of difficulty, and with some injury to her already
+injured arm, she managed to climb the beech-tree and so reach the gabled
+roof just under her attic window. She pushed the window wide open and got
+inside. How dear and sweet and fresh the little chamber appeared! How
+innocent and good was that little white bed, with its sheets still
+smoothly folded down! It took Pauline scarcely a minute to get into her
+night-dress, sweep her offending white dress into a neighboring cupboard,
+unlock the door, and put her head on her pillow. Oh, there was no place
+like home! It was better to be hungry at home, it was better to be in
+punishment at home, than to go away to however grand a place and however
+luxuriant a feast.
+
+"And Nancy's home isn't grand," thought Pauline. "And the food was rough.
+Aunt Sophia would even call it coarse. But, oh, I was hungry! And if I
+hadn't been so naughty I'd have been very happy. All the same," she
+continued, thinking aloud, as was her fashion. "I won't go to that
+midnight picnic; and Renny must not go either. Of course, I can't tell
+Aunt Sophia what I did last night. I promised Nancy I wouldn't tell, and
+it wouldn't be fair; but see if I do anything wrong again! I'll work like
+a Briton at my lessons to-day. Oh, how badly my arm hurts! And what an
+awful noise the storm is making! The thunder rattles as though it would
+come through the roof. My arm does ache! Oh, what lightning! I think I'll
+put my head under the sheet."
+
+Pauline did so, and notwithstanding the tempest, she had scarcely got
+down into the real warmth of her bed before sleep visited her.
+
+When she awoke the storm was over, the sun was shining, and Verena was
+standing at the foot of her bed.
+
+"Do get up, Paulie," she said. "How soundly you have slept! And your face
+is so flushed! And, oh, aren't you just starving? We only discovered last
+night that you hadn't touched any of your food."
+
+"I'm all right," said Pauline.
+
+"You will try to be good to-day, won't you, Paulie? You don't know how
+miserable I was without you, for you are my own special most darling
+chum. You will try, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, I will try, of course," said Pauline. "Truly--truly, I will try."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+CHANGED LIVES.
+
+
+After the mental storm of the day before, Pauline would never forget the
+peace of the day that followed. For Miss Tredgold, having punished, and
+the hours of punishment being over, said nothing further to signify her
+displeasure. She received Pauline kindly when she appeared in the
+schoolroom. She took her hand and drew the little girl toward her. It was
+with a great effort that the poor girl could suppress the shriek that
+nearly rose to her lips as the unconscious Miss Tredgold touched her
+burnt arm.
+
+"We will forget about yesterday, Pauline," said her aunt. "We will go
+back to work this morning just as though there never had been any
+yesterday. Do you understand?"
+
+"I think so," said Pauline.
+
+"Do you happen to know your lessons?"
+
+"I'm afraid I don't."
+
+"Well, my dear, as this is practically your first transgression, I am the
+last person to be over-hard. You can listen to your sisters this morning.
+At preparation to-day you will doubtless do your best. Now go to your
+seat."
+
+Pauline sat between Briar and Adelaide. Adelaide nestled up close to her,
+and Briar took the first opportunity to whisper:
+
+"I am so glad you are back again, dear old Pauline! We had a horrid time
+without you yesterday."
+
+"They none of them know what I did," thought Pauline; "and, of course, I
+meant to tell them. Not Aunt Sophia, but the girls. Yes, I meant to
+confide in the girls; but the atmosphere of peace is so nice that I do
+not care to disturb it. I will put off saying anything for the present.
+It certainly is delightful to feel good again."
+
+Lessons went on tranquilly. The girls had a time of delightful rest
+afterwards in the garden, and immediately after early dinner there came a
+surprise. Miss Tredgold said:
+
+"My dear girls, there are several things you ought to learn besides mere
+book knowledge. I propose that you should be young country ladies whom no
+one will be ashamed to know. You must learn to dance properly, and to
+skate properly if there ever is any skating here. If not, we will go
+abroad for the purpose. But while you are in the Forest I intend you to
+have riding lessons and also driving lessons. A wagonette will be here at
+two o'clock, and we will all go for a long and delightful drive through
+the Forest. I am going to some stables about six or seven miles away,
+where I hear I can purchase some good horses and also some Forest ponies.
+Don't look so excited, dears. I should be ashamed of any nieces of mine
+brought up in the New Forest of England who did not know how to manage
+horses."
+
+"Oh, she really is a darling!" said Verena. "I never did for a single
+moment suppose that we should have had the chance of learning to drive."
+
+"And to ride," said Pauline.
+
+She began to skip about the lawn. Her spirits, naturally very high,
+returned.
+
+"I feel quite happy again," she said.
+
+"Why, of course you are happy," said Verena; "but you must never get into
+Punishment Land again as long as you live, Paulie, for I wouldn't go
+through another day like yesterday for anything."
+
+The wagonette arrived all in good time. It drew up at the front door, and
+Mr. Dale, attracted by the sound of wheels, rose from his accustomed seat
+in his musty, fusty study, and looked out of the window. The window was
+so dusty and dirty that he could not see anything plainly; but, true to
+his determination, he would not open it. A breeze might come in and
+disturb some of his papers. He was busy with an enthralling portion of
+his work just then; nevertheless, the smart wagonette and nicely
+harnessed horses, and the gay sound of young voices, attracted him.
+
+"I could almost believe myself back in the days when I courted my dearly
+beloved Alice," he whispered to himself. "I do sincerely trust that
+visitors are not beginning to arrive at The Dales; that would be the
+final straw."
+
+The carriage, however, did not stop long at the front door. It was
+presently seen bowling away down the avenue. Mr. Dale, who still stood
+and watched it, observed that it was quite packed with bright-looking
+young girls. Blue ribbons streamed on the breeze, and the girls laughed
+gaily.
+
+"I am glad those visitors are going," thought the good man, who did not
+in the least recognize his own family. "A noisy, vulgar crowd they
+seemed. I hope my own girls will never become like that. Thank goodness
+they did not stay long! Sophia is a person of discernment; she knows that
+I can't possibly receive incidental visitors at The Dales."
+
+He returned to his work and soon was lost to all external things.
+
+Meanwhile the girls had a lovely and exciting drive. Aunt Sophia was in
+her most agreeable mood. The children themselves were quite unaccustomed
+to carriage exercise. It was a wonderful luxury to lean back on the
+softly cushioned seats and dash swiftly under the noble beech-trees and
+the giant oaks of the primeval forest. By-and-by they drove up to some
+white gates. Verena was desired to get out and open them. The carriage
+passed through. She remounted into her seat, and a few minutes later they
+all found themselves in a great cobble-stoned yard surrounded by stables
+and coach-houses. The melodious cry of a pack of fox-hounds filled the
+air. The girls were almost beside themselves with excitement. Presently a
+red-faced man appeared, and he and Miss Tredgold had a long and
+mysterious talk together. She got out of the wagonette and went with the
+man into the stables. Soon out of the stables there issued, led by two
+grooms, as perfect a pair of Forest ponies as were ever seen. They were
+well groomed and in excellent order, and when they arched their necks and
+pawed the ground with their feet, Pauline uttered an irrepressible shout.
+
+"Those ponies are coming to The Dale in a fortnight," said Miss Tredgold.
+"Their names are Peas-blossom and Lavender."
+
+"I believe I'll die if much more of this goes on," gasped Briar. "I'm too
+happy. I can't stand anything further."
+
+"Hush, Briar!" said Verena, almost giving her sister a shake in her
+excitement, and yet at the same time trying to appear calm.
+
+"Now, my dear children, we will go home," said their aunt. "The wagonette
+will come any day that I send for it, and Mr. Judson informs me he hopes
+by-and-by to have a pair of carriage horses that I may think it worth
+while to purchase."
+
+"Aren't these good enough?" asked Verena, as they drove back to The
+Dales.
+
+"They are very fair horses, but I don't care to buy them. Judson knows
+just the sort I want. I am pleased with the ponies, however. They will
+give you all a great deal of amusement. To-morrow we must go to
+Southampton and order your habits."
+
+"I wonder I _ever_ thought her cross and nasty and disagreeable," thought
+Pauline. "I wonder I ever could hate her. I hope she'll let me ride
+Peas-blossom. I liked his bright eyes so much. I never rode anything in
+my life, but I feel I could ride barebacked on Peas-blossom. I love him
+already. Oh, dear! I don't hate Aunt Sophia now. On the contrary, I feel
+rather bad when I look at her. If she ever knows what I did yesterday,
+will she forgive me? I suppose I ought to tell her; but I can't. It would
+get poor Nancy into trouble. Besides--I may as well be frank with
+myself--I should not have the courage."
+
+As soon as the girls got home Penelope ran up to Pauline.
+
+"You stayed for a long time in the shrubbery yesterday, didn't you,
+Pauline?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Pauline.
+
+"You didn't by any chance find Aunt Sophy's thimble?"
+
+"I! Why should I?"
+
+Pauline felt herself turning red. Penelope fixed her exceedingly sharp
+eyes on her sister's face.
+
+"You did find it; you know you did. Where is it? Give it to me. I want my
+penny. Think of all the fun you are going to have. She doesn't mean me to
+ride, 'cos I asked her. I must have my penny. Give me the thimble at
+once, Paulie."
+
+"I haven't got it. Don't talk nonsense, child. Let me go. Oh! you have
+hurt me."
+
+Pauline could not suppress a short scream, and the next minute she felt
+herself turning very faint and sick, for Penelope had laid her
+exceedingly hard little hand on Pauline's burnt arm.
+
+"What is it, Paulie? I know you are not well," said Verena, running up.
+
+"It is 'cos of her bad conscience," said Penelope, turning away with a
+snort of indignation.
+
+"Really," said Verena, as Pauline leaned against her and tried hard to
+repress the shivers of pain that ran through her frame, "Penelope gets
+worse and worse. Only that I hate telling tales out of school, I should
+ask Aunt Sophia to send her back to the nursery for at least another
+year. But what is it, Paulie dear? You look quite ill."
+
+"I feel rather bad. I have hurt my arm. You must not ask me how, Renny.
+You must trust me. Oh dear! I must tell you what has happened, for you
+will have to help me. Oh, Renny, I am in such pain!"
+
+Poor Pauline burst into a torrent of tears. Where was her happiness of an
+hour ago? Where were her rapturous thoughts of riding Peas-blossom
+through the Forest? Her arm hurt her terribly; she knew that Penelope was
+quite capable of making mischief, she was terrified about the thimble.
+Altogether her brief interval of sunshine was completely blotted out.
+
+Verena, for her years, was a wonderfully wise girl. She had since her
+mother's death been more or less a little mother to the younger children.
+It is true, she had looked after them in a somewhat rough-and-ready
+style; but nevertheless she was a sympathetic and affectionate girl, and
+they all clung to her. Now it seemed only natural that Pauline should
+lean on her and confide her troubles to her. Accordingly Verena led her
+sister to a rustic seat and said:
+
+"Sit down near me and tell me everything."
+
+"It is this," said Pauline. "I have burned my arm badly, and Aunt Sophia
+must not know."
+
+"You have burnt your arm? How?"
+
+"I would rather not tell."
+
+"But why should you conceal it, Paulie?"
+
+"I'd rather conceal it; please don't ask me. All I want you to do is to
+ask me no questions, but to help me to get my arm well; the pain is
+almost past bearing. But, Renny, whatever happens, Aunt Sophia must not
+know."
+
+"You are fearfully mysterious," said Verena, who looked much alarmed.
+"You used not to be like this, Paulie. You were always very open, and you
+and I shared every thought Well, come into the house. Of course, whatever
+happens, I will help you; but I think you ought to tell me the whole
+truth."
+
+"I can't, so there! If you are to be a real, real sister to me, you will
+help me without asking questions."
+
+The girls entered the house and ran up to Pauline's bedroom. There the
+injured arm was exposed to view, and Verena was shocked to see the extent
+of the burn.
+
+"You ought to see a doctor. This is very wrong," she said.
+
+She made Pauline lie down, and dressed her arm as well as she could.
+Verena was quite a skilful little nurse in her own way, and as Pauline
+had some of the wonderful ointment which the Kings' cook had given her,
+and as Verena knew very nicely how to spread it on a piece of rag, the
+arm soon became more comfortable.
+
+Just before dinner Miss Tredgold called all the girls round her.
+
+"I have something to say," she remarked. "I want you all to go upstairs
+now; don't wait until five minutes before dinner. You will each find
+lying on your bed, ready for wearing, a suitable dinner-blouse. Put it on
+and come downstairs. You will wear dinner-dress every night in future, in
+order to accustom you to the manners of good society. Now go upstairs,
+tidy yourselves, and come down looking as nice as you can."
+
+The girls were all very much excited at the thought of the dinner-blouses.
+They found them, as Aunt Sophia had said, each ready to put on, on their
+little beds. Verena's was palest blue, trimmed daintily with a lot of
+fluffy lace. The sleeves were elbow-sleeves, and had ruffles round them.
+The blouse in itself was quite a girlish one, and suited its fair wearer
+to perfection. Pauline's blouse was cream-color; it also had
+elbow-sleeves, and was very slightly open at the neck.
+
+"Do be quick, Paulie," called out Briar. "I have got a sweet, darling,
+angel of a pink blouse. Get into yours, and I'll get into mine. Oh, what
+tremendous fun this is!"
+
+Briar ran whooping and singing down the corridor. She was met by nurse
+with baby in her arms.
+
+"Now, Miss Rose, what's up?" said the good woman. "You do look happy, to
+be sure. You don't seem to miss the old days much."
+
+"Of course I don't, nursey. I'm twice as happy as I used to be."
+
+"Twice as happy with all them lessons to learn?"
+
+"Yes; twice as happy, and twice as good. She doesn't scold us when we're
+good. In fact, she's just uncommonly nice. And to-night she says she'll
+play and sing to us; and it's so delicious to listen to her! Dad comes
+out of his study just as if she drew him by magic. And I like to learn
+things. I won't be a horrid pig of an ignorant girl any more. You will
+have to respect me in the future, nursey. And there's a darling little
+blouse lying on my bed--pink, like the leaf of a rose. I am to wear it
+to-night. I expect Aunt Sophia chose it because I'm like a rose myself. I
+shall look nice, shan't I, nursey?"
+
+"That's all very well," said nurse. "And for my part I don't object to
+civilized ways, and bringing you up like young ladies; but as to Miss
+Pen, she's just past bearing. New ways don't suit her--no, that they
+don't. She ain't come in yet--not a bit of her. Oh! there she is,
+marching down the corridor as if all the world belonged to her. What have
+you done to yourself, Miss Pen? A nice mess you are in!"
+
+"I thought I'd collect some fresh eggs for your tea, nursey," said the
+incorrigible child; "and I had three or four in my pinafore when I
+dropped them. I am a bit messy, I know; but you don't mind, do you,
+nursey?"
+
+"Indeed, then, I do. Just go straight to the nursery and get washed."
+
+Penelope glanced at Briar with a wry face, and ran away singing out in a
+shrill voice:
+
+                     "Cross patch, draw the latch,
+                     Sit by the fire and spin."
+
+She disappeared like a flash, and nurse followed her, murmuring angrily.
+
+Briar ran into her bedroom. This room she shared with Patty and Adelaide.
+They also were wildly delighted with their beautiful blouses, and had not
+begun to dress when Briar appeared.
+
+"I say, isn't it all jolly?" said Briar. "Oh, Patty, what a duck yours
+is!--white. And Adelaide's is white, too. But don't you love mine? I must
+be a very pretty girl to cause Aunt Sophia to choose such a lovely shade
+of rose. I wonder if I am really a pretty girl. Do stand out of the way;
+I want to stare at myself in the glass."
+
+Briar ran to the dressing-table. There she pushed the glass into such an
+angle that she could gaze contentedly at her features. She saw a small,
+rather round face, cheeks a little flushed, eyes very dark and bright,
+quantities of bright brown curling hair, dark pencilled eyebrows, a
+little nose, and a small pink mouth.
+
+"You are a charming girl, Briar Dale," she said, "worthy of a rose-pink
+blouse. Patty, don't you just love yourself awfully?"
+
+"I don't know," said Patty. "I suppose every one does."
+
+"The Bible says it is very wrong to love yourself," said Adelaide. "You
+ought to love other people and hate yourself."
+
+"Well, I am made the contrary," said Briar. "I hate other people and love
+myself. Who wouldn't love a darling little face like mine? Oh, I am just
+a duck! Help me into my new blouse, Patty."
+
+The three girls, each with the help of the other, managed to array
+themselves even to Briar's satisfaction. She was the neatest and also the
+vainest of the Dales. When she reached the outside corridor she met
+Verena, looking sweet, gentle, and charming in her pale-blue blouse. They
+all ran down to the drawing-room, where Miss Tredgold was waiting to
+receive them. She wore the old black lace dress, which suited her faded
+charms to perfection. She was standing by the open French window, and
+turned as her nieces came in. The girls expected her to make some remark
+with regard to their appearance, but the only thing she said was to ask
+them to observe the exquisite sunset.
+
+Presently Pauline appeared. She looked pale. There were black shadows
+under her eyes, and she was wearing a dirty white shirt decidedly the
+worse for wear. The other girls looked at her in astonishment. Verena
+gave her a quick glance of pain. Verena understood; the others were
+simply amazed. Miss Tredgold flashed one glance at her, and did not look
+again in her direction.
+
+Dinner was announced in quite the orthodox fashion, and the young people
+went into the dining-room. Mr. Dale was present. He was wearing quite a
+decent evening suit. He had not the faintest idea that he was not still
+in the old suit that had lain by unused and neglected for so many long
+years. He had not the most remote conception that Miss Tredgold had taken
+that suit and sent it to a tailor in London and desired him to make by
+its measurements a new suit according to the existing vogue. Mr. Dale put
+on the new suit when it came, and imagined that it was the old one. But,
+scholar as he was, he was learning to appreciate the excellent meals Miss
+Tredgold provided for him. On this occasion he was so human as to find
+fault with a certain entree.
+
+"This curry is not hot enough," he said. "I like spicy things; don't you,
+Sophia?"
+
+Miss Tredgold thought this an enormous sign of mental improvement. She
+had already spoken to cook on the subject of Mr. Dale's tastes.
+
+"Why, drat him!" was Betty's somewhat indignant answer. "In the old days
+he didn't know sprats from salmon, nor butter from lard. Whatever have
+you done to him, ma'am?"
+
+"I am bringing him back to humanity," was Miss Tredgold's quiet answer.
+
+Betty raised her eyebrows. She looked at Miss Tredgold and said to
+herself:
+
+"So quiet in her ways, so gentle, and for all so determined! Looks as
+though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; yet you daren't so much as
+neglect the smallest little sauce for the poorest little _entree_ or
+you'd catch it hot. She's a real haristocrat. It's a pleasure to have
+dealings with her. Yes, it's a downright pleasure. When I'm not thinking
+of my favorite 'ero of fiction, the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton, I
+feel that I'm doing the next best thing when I'm receiving the orders of
+her ladyship."
+
+Another of cook's ideas was that Miss Tredgold was a person of title, who
+chose for the present to disguise the fact. She certainly had a
+marvellous power over the erratic Betty, and was turning her into a
+first-rate cook.
+
+"Are you going to give us some of that exquisite music to-night, Sophia?"
+asked Mr. Dale when he had finished his dinner. He looked languidly at
+his sister-in-law.
+
+"On one condition I will," she said. "The condition is this: you are to
+accompany my piano on the violin."
+
+Mr. Dale's face became pale. He did not speak for a minute; then he rose
+and went nimbly on tiptoe out of the room.
+
+There was silence for a short time. The girls and their aunt had migrated
+into the drawing-room. The drawing-room looked sweetly pretty with its
+open windows, its softly shaded lamps, its piano wide open, and the
+graceful figures of the girls flitting about. Even Pauline's ugly blouse
+was forgotten. There was a sense of mystery in the air. Presently in the
+distance came the sound of a fiddle. It was the sound of a fiddle being
+tuned. The notes were discordant; but soon rich, sweeping melodies were
+heard. They came nearer and nearer, and Mr. Dale, still playing his
+fiddle, entered the room. He entered with a sort of dancing measure,
+playing an old minuet as he did so.
+
+Miss Tredgold stepped straight to the piano and without any music, played
+an accompaniment.
+
+"I have won," she thought. "I shall send him away for change of air; then
+the study must be cleaned. I shall be able to breathe then."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+NANCY SHOWS HER HAND.
+
+
+It was not until after breakfast on the following morning that Miss
+Tredgold said anything to Pauline about the ugly shirt she had chosen to
+wear on the previous evening.
+
+"My dear," she said then, very gently, "I did not remark on your dress
+last night; but for the future remember that when I say a thing is to be
+done, it is to be done. I had a pretty, suitable blouse put into your
+room for you to appear in last night. Why did you wear that ugly torn
+shirt?"
+
+"I couldn't help myself," said Pauline.
+
+"That is no reason."
+
+Pauline was silent. She looked on the ground. Miss Tredgold also was
+silent for a minute; then she said decisively:
+
+"You will wear the new blouse to-night. Remember, I expect to be obeyed.
+I will say nothing more now about your forgetting my orders last evening.
+Do better in the future and all will be well."
+
+It was with great difficulty that Pauline could keep the tears from her
+eyes. What was to become of her. She did not dare expose her burnt arm;
+she could not possibly wear a blouse with sleeves that reached only to
+the elbow without showing the great burn she had received. If Miss
+Tredgold found out, might she not also find out more? What was she to do?
+
+"What am I to do, Verena?" she said on the afternoon of that same day.
+
+"What do you mean, Paulie? Your arm is better, is it not?"
+
+"Yes; it doesn't hurt quite so much. But how can I wear the new blouse
+to-night?"
+
+"Would it not be wiser," said Verena, "if you were to tell Aunt Sophy
+that you have burnt your arm? It is silly to make a mystery of it."
+
+"But she will make me tell her how I did it."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I daren't tell her that. I daren't even tell you."
+
+"What am I to think, Paulie?"
+
+"Anything you like. You are my own sister, and you must not betray me.
+But she must never know. Can't you think of something to get me out of
+this? Oh, dear! what is to be done?"
+
+Verena shook her head.
+
+"I don't know what is to be done," she said, "if you haven't the courage
+to speak the truth. You have probably got into some scrape."
+
+"Oh! I----"
+
+"I am sure you have, Paulie; and the sooner you tell the better. The
+longer you conceal whatever it is, the worse matters will grow."
+
+Pauline's face grew crimson.
+
+"I am exceedingly sorry I told you," she said. "You are not half, nor
+quarter, as nice a sister as you used to be. Don't keep me. I am going
+into the shrubbery to help Penelope to look for Aunt Sophy's thimble."
+
+Verena said nothing further, and Pauline went into the shrubbery.
+
+"I seem to be getting worse," she said to herself. "Of course, I don't
+really want to help Penelope. How should I, when I know where the thimble
+is? There she is, hunting, hunting, as usual. What a queer, unpleasant
+child she is growing!"
+
+Penelope saw Pauline, and ran up to her.
+
+"You might tell me everything to-day," said the child. "Where did you put
+it?"
+
+"I have come to help you to look for it, Pen."
+
+"Don't be silly," was Penelope's answer.
+
+She instantly stood bolt upright.
+
+"There's no use in my fussing any longer," she said. "I've gone round and
+round here, and picked up leaves, and looked under all the weeds. There
+isn't a corner I've left unpoked into. Where's the good of troubling when
+you have it? You know you have it."
+
+"I know nothing of the kind. There! I will tell you the simple truth. I
+have not got the thimble. You may believe me as much as you like."
+
+"Then I'll believe just as much as nothing at all. If you haven't got the
+thimble, you know where it is. I'll give you until this time to-morrow to
+let me have it, and if you don't I'll go straight to Aunt Sophy."
+
+"Now, Pen, you are talking nonsense. You have no proof whatever that I
+have touched the thimble; and what will Aunt Sophia say to a little child
+who trumps up stories about her elder sister?"
+
+"Perhaps she'll be very glad," said Penelope. "I have often thought that
+with such a lot of you grown-up girls, and all of you so very rampagious
+and not a bit inclined to obey or do your lessons nicely, poor Aunt
+Sophy, what is really a dear old duck of a thing, wants some one like me
+to spy round corners and find out what goes on ahind her back. Don't you
+think so? Don't you think her'll love me if I tell her always what goes
+on ahind of her back?"
+
+"If she's a bit decent she'll hate you," said Pauline. "Oh, Pen, how were
+you made? What a queer, queer sort of child you are! You haven't ideas
+like the rest of us."
+
+"Maybe 'cos I'm nicer," said Penelope, not at all impressed by Pauline's
+contempt. "Maybe I shouldn't like to be made same as all you others are.
+There is something wrong about Aunt Sophy's thimble, and if I don't get
+it soon I'll be 'bliged to tell her."
+
+Penelope's eyes looked like needles. She walked away. Pauline gazed after
+her; then she went into the house.
+
+"That thimble is really a very trifling matter," she said to herself,
+"but even that at the present moment annoys me. Nancy has promised to
+bring it back to me this evening, and I will just put it somewhere where
+Pen is sure to find it. Then she'll be in raptures; she'll have her
+penny, and that matter will be set at rest. Oh, dear! it is almost time
+to go and meet Nancy. She must not keep me long, for now that that horrid
+dressing for dinner has begun, it takes quite half an hour to get
+properly tidy. But what am I to do? How can I wear that blouse?"
+
+Pauline waited her chance, and slipped out at the wicket-gate without
+even Penelope's sharp eyes watching her. She found Nancy pacing up and
+down at the other side. Nancy was decidedly cross.
+
+"Why did you keep me waiting?" she said. "It is five minutes past six,
+and I have barely another five minutes to stay with you, and there's a
+lot to talk over."
+
+"I'm in great luck to be able to come at all, Nancy. I didn't think I
+could ever slip away from the others. As to the midnight picnic, we must
+give it up. It is quite impossible for me to come. And I know the others
+won't; they're all getting so fond of Aunt Sophy. What do you think? She
+has given us ponies, and we're to have carriage-horses presently; and we
+are obliged to dress for dinner every evening."
+
+"Oh, you are turning aristocratic, and I hate you," said Nancy, with a
+toss of the head.
+
+She looked intensely jealous and annoyed. She herself was to ride soon,
+and her habit was already being made. She had hoped against hope that
+Miss Tredgold would be impressed by seeing her gallop past in an elegant
+habit on a smart horse.
+
+"Oh, Nancy!" said Pauline, "don't let us talk about ponies and things of
+that sort now; I am in great, great trouble."
+
+"I must say I'm rather glad," said Nancy. "You know, Paulie, you are in
+some ways perfectly horrid. I did a great deal for you the other night,
+and this is all the thanks I get. You won't come to the midnight picnic,
+forsooth! And you won't have anything more to do with me, forsooth!
+You'll ride past me, I suppose, and cut me dead."
+
+"I shall never do anything unkind, for I really do love you, Nancy. I
+have always loved you, but I can't get into fresh scrapes. They're not
+worth while."
+
+"You didn't talk like that when you were mad and starving the other day."
+
+"No, I didn't; but I do now. I have been miserable ever since I came
+back; and, oh, my arm has pained me so badly! You can imagine what I felt
+last evening when we were desired to wear pretty new blouses with
+elbow-sleeves; such sweet little dears as they all were. Mine was
+cream-color--just what suits me best--but of course I couldn't appear in
+it."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"With my burnt arm! How could I, Nancy?"
+
+Nancy burst out into a roar of laughter.
+
+"What a lark!" she cried. "Well, and what did the poor little Miss Misery
+do?"
+
+"I had to put on an old dirty shirt, the only one I could find. Aunt
+Sophia gave me no end of a lecture this morning. She says I am to wear my
+new blouse to-night or she'll know the reason why. Of course, I can't
+wear it."
+
+"Then you can't have any dinner?"
+
+"I am absolutely beside myself to know what to do," said Pauline.
+"Sometimes I think I'll go to bed and pretend I have got a headache. Oh,
+dear, what a bad girl I am turning into!"
+
+Nancy laughed again.
+
+"It is sometimes very tiresome to develop a conscience," she said. "You
+were a much nicer girl before that grand aunt of yours arrived to turn
+things topsy-turvy. As to the midnight picnic, you must come. I have made
+a bet on the subject. Jack and Tom say you won't come--that you will be
+afraid. 'Pauline Dale afraid! That's all you know about her,' says I. I
+have assured them that you will come whatever happens, and they have said
+you won't. So the end of it is that Tom, Jack, and I have made a bet
+about it. It is ten shillings' worth either way. If you come, I get three
+beautiful pairs of gloves. If you don't come, I give the boys ten
+shillings. Now you see how important it is. Why, Paulie, of course you
+will come! We are going to have a right-down jolly time, for father is so
+tickled with the notion that he is coming, too; and he says he will give
+us a real good lark. And we are going to Friar's Oak, eight miles away;
+and we are to take hampers full of dainties. And Fiddler Joe will come
+with us to play for us; and there's a beautiful green-sward just under
+the beech-trees by Friar's Oak, and there we'll dance by the full light
+of the moon. Oh, you must come! I told father you were coming, and he was
+awfully pleased--as pleased as Punch--and he said:
+
+"'That's right, my girl; that's right, Nancy. If the Dales stick to me
+through thick and thin, I'll stick to them.'
+
+"You know, Pauline, you have always been at our fun before; so, aunt or
+no aunt, you can't fail us now."
+
+"I'd like to go beyond anything," said Pauline, who felt intensely
+tempted by this description. "It is so horrible to be pulled up short.
+But I know I can't, so there's no use thinking about it."
+
+"You needn't answer me now. I'll come back again. This is Friday night.
+I'll come back on Monday night. The picnic is arranged for Wednesday
+night. Listen, Paulie; you will have to change your mind, for if you
+don't--well!"
+
+"If I don't?"
+
+"I can make it very hot for you."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I'll come and have a talk with your aunt. There!"
+
+"Oh, Nancy. What about?"
+
+"Such an interesting story, darling! All about our fun that night when
+you burnt your arm--all about our gaiety, and the fireworks, and your
+stealing away as you did, and your stealing back as you did. Oh! I shall
+have a jolly story to tell; and I will tell it, too. She'll turn me away,
+and tell me she'll never see me any more; but what of that? She's done
+that already. I will have my fun; you will have your punishment. That's
+fair enough, isn't it? You don't desert Nancy King for nothing, remember
+that, Pauline, so you had better say at once that you will come. Now, my
+love, I think that is about all."
+
+Nancy's face was very red. She was feeling thoroughly angry. Pauline's
+manner annoyed her past description. She really imagined herself to be
+extremely kind and good-natured to Pauline, and could not endure the
+little girl taking her present high stand.
+
+"I must be going now," she said.
+
+She gave Pauline a nod which was scarcely friendly, but was, at the same
+time, very determined, and was about to run home, when Pauline called
+her.
+
+"Don't go for a minute, Nancy. There's something else. Have you brought
+me back Aunt Sophia's thimble?"
+
+"No, I have not. I have a story to tell you about that, and I was just
+forgetting it. I do hope and trust you won't really mind."
+
+"Oh, what is it? You know I am quite likely to get into a scrape about
+that horrid thimble as well as everything else. What is the story? The
+thimble isn't yours. You surely haven't lost it!"
+
+"Nothing of the kind. You look as though you thought I had stolen it.
+Mean as I am, I am not quite so bad as that. Now let me tell you. Becky,
+poor old girl! saw it. She's always mad about finery of any sort, and her
+people are rich as rich. I had the thimble in my pocket, and she was
+snuggling up close to me in her nice, engaging little fashion, and she
+felt the thimble hard against my side, much as I felt it when it was in
+your pocket. In she slipped her little bit of a white hand and drew it
+out. I never saw any one so delighted over a toy of the sort in all my
+life. It fitted her little finger just to a nicety.
+
+"'Why,' she exclaimed, 'I never, never saw a thimble like this before;
+did you, Nancy?'
+
+"'Guess not,' I answered. 'It's a cunning one, isn't it?'
+
+"She kept turning it round and round, and looking at it, and pressing it
+up to her cheek, and trying to see her own reflection in that wonderful
+sapphire at the bottom of the thimble. Then what do you think happened? I
+own it was a little sharp of her, but of course you can't be so
+unfriendly as to mind. She took the precious little toy and put it into a
+dear, most precious little box, and covered it over with soft, soft
+cotton-wool, and placed a sweet little lid on the top. Dear me, Pauline!
+you needn't open your eyes any wider. And when she had secured the little
+box, she wrapped it in brown paper, and twined it, and sealed it, and
+addressed it to her sister Josephine in London."
+
+"Then she stole it," said Pauline.
+
+"Not a bit of it. What a narrow-minded girl you are! Just hear my story
+out. Becky sent the thimble to Josephine to their house in Bayswater,
+with directions that Josephine was to take it to their jeweller, Paxton,
+and ask him to make another in all particulars precise ditto the same.
+You understand? Precise ditto the same--sapphire, gold, turquoise, and
+all. And this beautiful thimble is to be worn on the dear little middle
+finger of Becky's dear little white hand. When it is faithfully copied
+you will have the original thimble back, my love, but not before. Now,
+then, ta-ta for the present."
+
+Nancy ran off before Pauline had time to reply. She felt stunned. What
+did everything mean? How queer of Nancy to have suddenly turned into a
+perfectly awful girl--a sort of fiend--a girl who had another girl
+completely in her power; who could, and would if she liked, make that
+other girl wretched; who could and would ruin that other girl's life.
+There was a time when the midnight picnic seemed the most delightful
+thing on earth; but it scarcely appeared delightful now to poor Pauline,
+whose head ached, whose arm ached, and whose whole body ached. What was
+she to do?
+
+When she re-entered the shrubbery, her unhappy feelings were by no means
+lightened to see that Penelope was waiting for her. Penelope stood a
+little way off, her feet firmly planted a little apart, her straw hat
+pushed back from her sunburned face, her hands dropped straight to her
+sides.
+
+"I didn't eavesdrop," she said. "I could have easy. There was a
+blackberry briar, and I could have stole under it and not minded the
+scratches, and I could have heard every single word; but I didn't, 'cos
+I'm not mean. But I saw you talking to Nancy, what kind Aunt Sophy says
+you're not to talk to. Perhaps, seeing you has done what is awful wrong,
+you'll give me a penny instead of Aunt Sophy; then I needn't tell her
+that you were talking to Nancy when you oughtn't, and that I think you
+have got the thimble. Will you give me a penny or will you not?"
+
+Pauline put her hand into her pocket.
+
+"You are a most detestable child," she said.
+
+"Think so if you like," said Penelope. "Oh, here's my penny!"
+
+She snatched at the penny which was reposing on Pauline's palm.
+
+"Now I'll go straight off and get John to bring me in some cookies," she
+exclaimed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+PAULINE CONFESSES.
+
+
+Pauline was in such a strait that she made up her mind to tell a lie. She
+had never, so far as she could remember, told an actual and premeditated
+lie before. Now matters were so difficult, and there seemed such a
+certainty of there being no other way out, that she resolved to brave the
+consequences and add to her former sin by a desperate, downright black
+lie. Accordingly, just before dinner she ran into Verena's room.
+
+"Renny," she said, "I have made up my mind."
+
+"What about?" asked Verena. "Why, Pauline, you do look bad. Your face is
+as white as a sheet."
+
+"I shall have to explain," continued Pauline. "I am going to tell how I
+got the burn on my arm."
+
+Verena gave a great sigh of relief.
+
+"I am glad," she cried. "It is far better to tell."
+
+"So I think," said Pauline in an airy fashion. "Give me a kiss, Verena; I
+must dress for dinner, and I haven't a moment to lose."
+
+"You will wear your pretty blouse?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Pauline dashed out of the room, banging the door noisily after her.
+
+"I wonder what she means," thought Verena. "She is certainly getting
+rather queer. I am afraid she has a terrible secret on her mind. I am
+glad she means to confess, poor darling! I seem to have less influence
+over her than I used to have, and yet I love no one like Paulie. She is
+all the world to me. I love her far better than the others."
+
+Meanwhile Pauline, with great difficulty, put on her pretty evening-blouse.
+How she hated those elbow-sleeves! How she wished the little soft chiffon
+frills were longer! At another time she would have been delighted with her
+own reflection in the glass, for a cream-colored silk blouse suited her.
+She would have liked to see how well she looked in this new and fashionable
+little garment. She would have been pleased, too, with the size and
+brilliancy of her black eyes. She would have admired that flush which so
+seldom visited her sallow cheeks; she would even have gazed with
+approbation at her pearly-white teeth. Oh, yes, she would have liked
+herself. Now she felt that she hated herself. She turned from the glass
+with a heavy sigh.
+
+Having finished her toilet, she wrapped a soft muslin handkerchief round
+her wounded arm and ran downstairs. Her aunt was already in the
+drawing-room, but to Pauline's relief no one else was present. The little
+girl ran up to her aunt, dropped a curtsy, and looked somewhat
+impertinently into her face.
+
+"Here I am," she said; "and how do I look?"
+
+"You have put on your blouse, Pauline. It suits you. Turn round and let
+me see how it fits at the back. Oh! quite nicely. I told Miss Judson to
+make the blouses in a simple fashion, so that they could be washed again
+and again. But what is the matter, my dear? Your face is very white.
+And--why, my dear Pauline, what is wrong with your arm?"
+
+"I have something to confess, Aunt Sophy. I hope you won't be terribly
+angry."
+
+"Something to confess, my dear child? Well, I am glad you have the
+courage to confess when you do wrong. There is nothing like owning up
+one's faults, Pauline. There is nothing else that really strengthens the
+soul. Well, I am listening, dear. Now, what is it?"
+
+Pauline slowly unfastened the handkerchief which she had bound round her
+arm, and showed the great burn to Miss Tredgold.
+
+Miss Tredgold started, uttered an exclamation, took the little arm in her
+hand, and looked tenderly at the ugly place.
+
+"My poor little girl," she said. "Do you mean that you have been
+suffering from this all this time? But how in the world did it happen?"
+
+"That is what I want to confess. I did something extremely naughty the
+day you kept me in Punishment Land."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"You sent me to bed at seven o'clock."
+
+"Yes; that was part of the punishment."
+
+"Well, I didn't like it. Oh! here comes Verena. Renny, I am confessing my
+sins."
+
+Verena ran up, her face full of anxiety. She put her arm round Pauline's
+waist.
+
+"See how bad her poor arm is," she said, glancing at Miss Tredgold.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Tredgold, "it is badly hurt; but don't interrupt,
+Verena. I am listening to the story of how Pauline burnt her arm."
+
+"You sent me to bed at seven o'clock," said Pauline, who, now that she
+had embarked on her narrative, felt emboldened and, strange to say,
+almost enjoyed herself. "I could not possibly sleep at seven o'clock, you
+know; so, to amuse myself, I tried on my new white dress; and then I lit
+a candle, drew down the blinds, and looked at myself in the glass. I was
+so pleased! I did look nice; I felt quite conceited."
+
+"You needn't tell me how you felt, Pauline. I want to hear facts, not
+accounts of your feelings. You did wrong to put on your white dress, for
+it had already been fitted on by the dressmaker, and it was being
+carefully kept for Sunday wear. But proceed. After you lit the candle and
+drew down the blinds what happened?"
+
+"A great puff of wind came in through the window, and it blew the blind
+against the candle, and the flame of the candle came towards me, and I
+had my hand up to arrange my hair. I was fastening it up with hairpins to
+make myself look quite grown-up."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And the candle caught my sleeve and set it on fire."
+
+Miss Tredgold now began to look so pale that Verena vaguely wondered if
+she were going to faint. The little culprit, however, stood bolt upright
+and gazed with defiant black eyes at her aunt.
+
+"Yes," said Pauline, "I suffered awful pain, and the sleeve blazed up
+like anything; but I ran to the basin of water and put it out. I was
+afraid to tell you. I had to tell Renny that I had burnt my arm, but I
+didn't tell her how it happened, and I wouldn't allow her to breathe to
+you that I was in pain. That was the reason I could not wear my pretty
+blouse last night, and you were angry with me. I hope you won't be angry
+any more; but the sleeve of the dress is burnt badly. Perhaps you won't
+give me any birthday present because the sleeve of my new dress is so
+much injured."
+
+"I will see about that. The thing is to cure your arm. The doctor must
+come immediately."
+
+"But it is getting better."
+
+"You must see the doctor," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+She went out of the room as she spoke. Pauline sank into a chair; Verena
+looked down at her.
+
+"Have you told the truth?" asked Verena suddenly.
+
+Pauline nodded with such a savage quickness that it made her sister
+positively certain that she had not heard the right story.
+
+Miss Tredgold came back in a minute.
+
+"I have sent for Dr. Moffat," she said. "I hope he will be here after
+dinner. My dear child, why didn't you tell me before?"
+
+"Are you going to forgive me?" faltered Pauline. "I--I almost think I'd
+rather you didn't."
+
+"You are a very queer child, and I may as well tell you frankly you are
+talking nonsense. You did wrong, of course, to put on the white dress;
+but I think, my dear, your sufferings have been your punishment. We will
+say no more now about the burnt sleeve. Fortunately I have plenty of the
+same muslin in the house, and the mischief can be quickly repaired. Now,
+dear, lie back in that chair. No; you are not to come in to dinner. It
+shall be sent to you here on a tray."
+
+For the rest of the evening Pauline was so pitied and fussed over, and
+made so thoroughly comfortable, that she began to think the black, black
+lie she had uttered quite a good thing.
+
+"Here am I half out of my scrape," she thought. "Now, if I can only
+persuade Nancy not to force us to go to that midnight picnic, and not to
+tell if we don't go, and if I can get the thimble back, I shall be once
+more as happy as the day is long. This wicked black lie shall not
+frighten me. There is no other way out. I cannot possibly tell the truth.
+What would Nancy think if I did?"
+
+The doctor came. He ordered a healing lotion for the arm; he also felt
+the pulse of the little patient. He declared her to be slightly feverish,
+and ordered her to bed.
+
+Half the next day Pauline stayed in her comfortable bed. She was fed with
+dainties by Aunt Sophia, was not expected to learn any lessons, and was
+given a fascinating story-book to wile away the time. During the morning,
+when she was not engaged in the schoolroom, Miss Tredgold stayed by the
+little girl's side, and mended the burnt dress, cutting out a new sleeve
+and putting it in with deft, clever fingers.
+
+Pauline watched her as one fascinated. As she looked and observed the
+graceful figure, the kindly expression of the eyes, and the noble pose of
+the head, there stole over her desolate little heart a warm glow. She
+began to love Aunt Sophia. When she began to love her she began also to
+hate herself.
+
+"I don't want to love her a bit," thought the child. "I want quite to
+detest her. If I love her badly--and perhaps I may--it will make things
+that must happen much more difficult."
+
+Aunt Sophia left the room. She came back presently with a dainty jelly
+and some home-made biscuits. She put an extra pillow at Pauline's back,
+and placed the little tray containing the tempting food in front of her.
+
+"What are you thinking about, Paulie?" she asked suddenly.
+
+"About how nice you are," answered the child; and then she added, "I
+don't want you to be nice."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Because I don't. I can't tell you more than just I don't."
+
+Miss Tredgold said nothing more. She resumed her work, and Pauline ate
+her jelly.
+
+"Aunt Sophy," she said presently, "I want to be awfully good at my
+lessons next week. I want to learn real desperate hard. I want to turn
+into a very clever girl. You'd like me to be clever, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Provided you are not conceited with it," said Aunt Sophia in her abrupt
+way.
+
+"Perhaps I should be," said Pauline. "I was always thought rather smart.
+I like people to call me smart. You don't want me to turn stupid because
+I may get conceited."
+
+"No, dear; I want you to be natural. I want you to try very hard to be
+learned, to be good, to be a lady. I want you to be the sort of woman
+your mother would have wished you to be had she lived. I want you to grow
+up strong in mind and strong in body. I want you to be unselfish. I want
+you to look upon life as a great gift which you must not abuse, which you
+must make use of. I want you, Paulie, and your sisters to be the best in
+every sense of that great word. You will fail. We all fail at times; but
+there is forgiveness for each failure if you go to the right and only
+source. Have I said enough?"
+
+"Yes," said Pauline in a low voice.
+
+Her conscience was pricking her. She lowered her eyes; the long black
+lashes trembled with tears. Miss Tredgold stooped and kissed her.
+
+"I hear Briar in the garden," she said. "I will send her up to you. Be as
+merry as you please with her, and forget my words for the present."
+
+Pauline got up in time for late dinner. She was, of course, excused
+wearing her dinner-blouse, and was still treated somewhat as an invalid.
+But on Sunday morning she was so much better that she was able to wear
+her white dress, and able also to join her sisters in the garden.
+
+They all went to the pretty little church in the next village, and Miss
+Tredgold accompanied them.
+
+Looking back on it afterwards, that Sunday always seemed to Pauline like
+an exquisite dream of peace. Her lie did not press at all against her
+heart. The discomfort of it was for the time in abeyance. She tried to
+forget Miss Tredgold's ideal girl; she was happy without knowing why. She
+was happy, but at the same time she was quite well aware of the fact that
+her happiness would come to an end on Sunday night. She was quite certain
+that on Monday morning her grave and terrible troubles would begin. She
+would have to see Nancy. She would have to decide with regard to the
+midnight picnic. There was no joy for Pauline in the thought of that
+picnic now, but she dared not stay away from it, for if she did Nancy
+would have her way. Nancy's temper, quick and hot as a temper could be,
+would blaze up. She would come to Miss Tredgold and tell her everything.
+If it had been awful to Pauline's imagination to think of Miss Tredgold
+knowing the truth before, what would it be to her now after the lie she
+had told?
+
+"I must coax Nancy," thought the little girl to herself. "I must tell her
+that I can't go to the picnic, and I must implore her not to tell. Oh,
+what shall I do? How shall I persuade her?"
+
+On Sunday morning, therefore, notwithstanding her promises, Pauline was
+inattentive at lessons. But Miss Tredgold was not inclined to be
+over-severe. The doctor had said that the child had not only been badly
+burnt, but had also received a nervous shock. He had further added that
+the more liberty she was given, and the more fresh air just at present,
+the better.
+
+Accordingly Pauline was sent into the garden long before the others had
+finished their lessons. She presently sat down under the shade of a tree.
+She was not to meet Nancy till six o'clock.
+
+By-and-by Penelope came out, saw her sister, and ran towards her.
+
+"Have you got the thimble?" she asked.
+
+"Of course I haven't. I don't know anything about the thimble. What do
+you mean?"
+
+Alas for Pauline! Her first lie had made her second easy.
+
+Penelope looked at her in puzzled wonder.
+
+"I thought you did know about it," she said, disappointment stealing over
+her shrewd little face.
+
+"I don't know anything about it. Don't worry me."
+
+"You are so cross that I'm sure you have done something desperate
+naughty," said Penelope. "I want to find out what it is, and I don't want
+to stay with you. I think you are horrid."
+
+She marched away defiantly, her squat little figure and bare legs looking
+so comical that Pauline burst out laughing.
+
+"What am I coming to?" she said to herself. "This is lie number two. Oh,
+dear! I feel just as if a net were surrounding me, and the net was being
+drawn tighter each moment, and I was being dragged into a pit out of
+which there is no escape. What shall I do?"
+
+Just then Mr. Dale, who seldom left the house, appeared in view. He was
+walking slowly, his hands thrust into his pockets, his head bent forward;
+he was murmuring some sentences of his beloved Virgil to himself. He took
+no notice of Pauline. He did not even see her. Neither did he notice the
+chair in which she was sitting. He came bang up against her before he
+knew that she was there.
+
+"What have I done?" he exclaimed. "Oh, it is you, Pauline! How
+inconsiderate of you to sit like this on the lawn!"
+
+"But we always sit on the chairs, dad," said Pauline, springing to her
+feet.
+
+He forgot that he had made the remark. He laid his hand on her shoulder.
+
+"I have been having a delightful time," he said--"truly a delightful
+time. All this morning I have been in contact with noble thoughts. My
+child, can you realize, even dimly, what it is to dip into those mines of
+wealth--those mines of illimitable wisdom and greatness and strength and
+power? Oh, the massiveness of the intellects of the old classic writers!
+Their lofty ideas with regard to time and eternity--where can their like
+be found?"
+
+Pauline yawned.
+
+"Are you tired?" asked her father.
+
+"No--only worried," she answered.
+
+She did not know why she made the latter remark; but at the same time she
+was perfectly well aware that anything she said to her father was safe,
+as he would absolutely forget it in the course of the next minute. He was
+roused now from his visions of the past by a certain pathos in the little
+face. He put his arm round the child and drew her to him.
+
+"My dear, pretty little girl," he said.
+
+"Am I pretty?" asked Pauline.
+
+He gazed at her out of his short-sighted eyes.
+
+"I think not," he said slowly. "I was imagining you were Verena, or
+perhaps Briar. Briar is certainly very pretty. No, Pauline, you are not
+pretty; you are plain. But never mind; you have perhaps got"--he put a
+finger on each temple--"you have perhaps got something greater."
+
+"It doesn't matter if you are plain or not," said Pauline almost crossly,
+"when you are awfully worried."
+
+"But what worries you, my child? I would not have one so young subjected
+to worries. My dear, is it possible that you already are perplexed with
+the ways of this present life? Truly, I am scarcely surprised. The life
+we lead in these degenerate days is so poor; the giants have left the
+earth, and only the pigmies are left. Don't worry about life, child; it
+isn't worth while."
+
+"I am not," said Pauline bluntly. "I am worrying because----"
+
+"Because of what, dear?"
+
+"Because I am going to be desperately naughty."
+
+Mr. Dale shook his head slowly.
+
+"I wouldn't," he said. "It is very uncomfortable and wrong, and it
+sullies the conscience. When the conscience gets sullied the nature goes
+down--imperceptibly, perhaps, but still it goes down. If your worry is an
+affair of the conscience, take it to Him who alone can understand you."
+
+Pauline looked at her father with awed astonishment.
+
+"You mean God?" she said. "Will He help me?"
+
+"Certainly He will. He is the Great Deliverer, and His strength is as
+immeasurable as it ever was. He gave power to the martyrs to go through
+the flames. He will help a little, weak girl if she asks Him. Oh, my
+dear, it has struck twelve! I have lost a quarter of an hour. Don't keep
+me another moment."
+
+The scholar and dreamer hurried to the house. Long before he got there he
+had forgotten Pauline and her childish worries. She was going to be
+desperately naughty. He certainly no longer remembered those words.
+
+Meanwhile the child stayed behind with her hands clasped.
+
+"I wish he had told me more," she said to herself. "I don't believe God
+could put this straight."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE NET.
+
+
+On Monday Pauline's troubles began over again. She ought to have been
+very happy on this special day, for the birthday--the great, important
+birthday, her very own, when she would reach the completion of her
+fourteenth year--was near at hand. But although Pauline was perplexed and
+unhappy, there was nevertheless a birthday feeling in the air. In the
+first place, there was a great and exciting sense of mystery. The girls
+were seen darting quickly here and there; in every imaginable corner
+there were whispered consultations. Aunt Sophia, in particular, never
+looked at Pauline without smiling. She was kindness itself. It seemed to
+the poor little girl that her aunt had taken a great fancy to her. This
+was the case. Miss Tredgold was interested in all her nieces, but even
+Verena with her daintiness and pretty face, and Briar with her most
+charming personality, did not attract Miss Tredgold as did the
+blunt-looking, almost plain child who called herself Pauline.
+
+"She has got character and independence," thought the good lady. "She
+will be something by-and-by. She will always be able to hold her own in
+the world. She is the kind of girl who could do much good. It hurt me
+very much to send her into Punishment Land, but she is all the better for
+it. Oh, yes, she must taste the rough as well as the smooth if she is to
+be worth anything. She will be worth a good deal; of that I am
+convinced."
+
+Miss Tredgold, therefore, had compassion on Pauline's late indisposition,
+and made lessons as easy as possible for her. Thus Pauline had very
+little to do, except to think of that mystery which was growing thicker
+and thicker. In one way it helped her own dilemma. With her sisters
+walking in twos and threes all over the place, it would not be at all
+remarkable for her to slip down at the appointed hour to the wicket-gate.
+Even Penelope would not notice her, so absorbed was she in assisting
+Adelaide to make a special present for Pauline.
+
+As the day advanced the little girl became terribly nervous. She felt a
+sense of irritation when one of her sisters looked at her, whispered to
+her companion, and then turned away. She would almost have preferred Miss
+Tredgold to be as stern as she was before. Her whole mind was in a state
+of tumult. She felt the net closing tighter and tighter around her. Even
+the birthday was scarcely interesting while such a weight rested on her
+heart. Miss Tredgold had said during the afternoon as they were all
+sitting together on the lawn:
+
+"This is to be a great birthday. This is the very first birthday I have
+spent under your roof. You must all remember it as long as you live."
+
+"Oh, can I ever forget it?" thought poor Pauline. "But Aunt Sophy little
+knows that I shall not remember it for its kindness and its sunshine and
+its presents; I shall remember it always because I am such a wicked
+girl."
+
+Now as evening approached she could not help whispering to herself:
+
+"The net is closing--closing round me. It is gathering me up into a heap.
+My legs and arms are tied. Soon the wicked, dreadful thing will press my
+head down, and I shall be powerless and lost."
+
+She thought out this metaphor, and it seemed to haunt her footsteps.
+
+"It is right that a girl who told a black lie should be cramped up in
+it," thought Pauline. "Oh, why hadn't I courage to tell Aunt Sophy the
+truth? She might have been angry, but in the end she would have forgiven
+me. I would far rather have no notice whatever taken of my birthday than
+be as miserable as I am now."
+
+"That child isn't well," said Miss Tredgold to Verena, as Pauline was
+seen slowly creeping in a subdued sort of way in the direction of the
+lower shrubbery. "Why is she always stealing off by herself? I have a
+good mind to call her back and take her for a drive. It is a lovely
+evening, and a drive would do her good."
+
+"So it would, Aunt Sophy. You know how busy all the rest of us are
+finishing her presents. I am sure she would love to drive with you, for I
+think she is getting very fond of you."
+
+"Perhaps, my dear; but I have made up my mind not to have favorites. As
+long as you are all good I shall love you all.--Pauline--yes, Verena, I
+shall offer her a drive--Pauline, come here."
+
+Pauline hated to be called back, but she could not do otherwise than
+obey. She approached lingeringly.
+
+"Yes, Aunt Sophy," she said.
+
+"Would you like to take a drive with me? We might go and find out how
+soon Peas-blossom and Lavender will be ready to come to their new home."
+
+At another time such a request on the part of Miss Tredgold would have
+enraptured Pauline; but she knew that it only wanted five minutes to six,
+and she doubted if Nancy would consent to be kept waiting long.
+
+"No," she answered slowly; "my head aches. Please, I would rather not
+take a drive."
+
+She did not wait for Miss Tredgold's response, but continued her slow
+walk.
+
+"The poor child is certainly ill," said the good lady. "If she continues
+to look as poorly and as sadly out of sorts next week I shall take her to
+the seaside."
+
+"Will you, Aunt Sophy? How lovely! Do you know that Paulie and I have
+never been to the sea? We do so long to see it!"
+
+"Well, my dear, I shall take you all presently, but I can't say when.
+Now, as Pauline does not want to drive with me, I shall go into the house
+and finish some of my arrangements."
+
+Miss Tredgold went indoors, and Verena joined Briar and Patty, who were
+in a great state of excitement.
+
+Meanwhile Pauline had reached the wicket-gate. She opened it and went
+out. Nancy was waiting for her. Nancy's cheeks were flushed and her eyes
+bright. She looked as if she had been quarreling with somebody. Pauline
+knew that look well. Nancy's two friends Becky and Amy were standing at a
+little distance. There was a small governess-cart drawn up not far away,
+and Becky was stroking the nose of a rough little Forest pony.
+
+"Father gave me the cart and pony this morning," said Nancy. "There's
+nothing he wouldn't do for me. The pony and cart aren't much, perhaps,
+but still it is fun to have them to fly over the place. Well, and how
+goes her little high-and-mightiness? Frumpy, I can see. Grumpy, I can
+guess. Now, is Pauline glad to see poor old Nance--eh?"
+
+"Of course, Nancy; but I have come to say----"
+
+"We'll have no 'buts,' darling, if you please."
+
+"I can't come to the picnic, Nancy; I really cannot."
+
+"How white poor little Dumpy looks! Wants some one to cheer her up, or
+she'll be dumped and frumped and grumped all in one. Now, darling, I'm
+going to put my arm round your waist. I am going to feel your little
+heart go pit-a-pat. You shall lean against me. Isn't that snug? Doesn't
+dear old Nancy count for something in your life?"
+
+"Of course you do, Nancy. I am fond of you. I have always said so,"
+replied Pauline.
+
+"Then you will yield, darling, to the inevitable."
+
+"I am yielding to it now," replied Pauline. "I am not going with you
+because I can't."
+
+"And you are going with me because you must," Nancy responded. "For
+listen, Pauline. Although I am affectionate, I can be--oh, yes--dangerous.
+And if you don't come, why, I can keep my word. Wednesday is your
+birthday. I wonder when the crown of the day will come?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, there always is a crown to a birthday. There is a time, either in
+the evening or in the morning, when the queen receives the homage of her
+subjects. She gets her presents, and there are pretty speeches made to
+her, and she has her dainty feast and her crown of flowers. Yes, that
+time is the crown of the day, and that is just the moment when the poor
+little queen shall topple down. The throne shall be knocked from under
+her; the presents will vanish; the sovereignty will cease to exist. Poor,
+poor little queen without a kingdom! How will you like it, Paulie? Do you
+think you could bear it? To have no kingdom and no crown and no presents
+and no love, and to be bitterly disgraced as well! How will you like it,
+Paulie?"
+
+"I know that you can do all that you say," answered Pauline. "I know you
+can be dreadful, and everything is against me. You can ruin me if you
+like, but I want you not to do it, Nancy."
+
+"And if you don't come with us I want to do it, dear; and I rather think
+that my will is stronger than yours."
+
+"But if it kills me?"
+
+"It won't do that, Paulie. You will feel bad, and, oh! as though somebody
+had crushed you; but you won't die. There's only one way out."
+
+Pauline was silent.
+
+"It is quite an easy way," continued Nancy. "It is easy and safe, and
+there's a deal of fun to be got out of it. You have got to come to the
+picnic. Once you are there you will enjoy yourself tremendously. I
+promise to get you home in the morning. You will come, and you will bring
+two of your sisters with you. Two will be enough. I have yielded that
+point. You will meet us here, at this very spot, at eleven o'clock on
+Wednesday night. We are going some distance away, so that no one in the
+neighborhood of The Dales need hear our singing and our fun and our
+jollity. We will come back before daybreak and deposit you just outside
+the wicket-gate. You may think it very unpleasant just now, and very mean
+and all the rest, but it is the only possible way to save yourself. You
+must come to the picnic, and bring two of your sisters."
+
+"But suppose they won't come?"
+
+"They will if you manage things properly. It needn't be Verena. I expect
+Verena, for all she is so soft and fair, is a tough nut to crack; but you
+can bring Briar and Patty. My father will be quite satisfied if three of
+you are present. The fact is, he is awfully hurt at the thought of your
+all thinking yourselves too good for us. He says that the Dales and the
+Kings were always friends. My father is a dear old man, but he has his
+cranks, and he has made up his mind that come you must, or he'll make
+mischief. It won't be only me; it will be my father as well. He will
+appear at The Dales, and if I go straight to Miss Tredgold, he will go
+straight to Mr. Dale. Now, what do you think of that? I am determined to
+have you for reasons of my own, and I shall poke up my father to do no
+end of mischief if you don't appear. Now don't be a goose. Get up a
+little dash of courage and a little dash of your old spirit and
+everything will be as straight as possible."
+
+Pauline stood quite still. Nancy danced in front of her. Nancy's face was
+almost malicious in its glee. Pauline looked at it as a child will look
+when despair clutches at her heart.
+
+"I didn't know--I couldn't guess--that you were like that," she said in a
+sort of whisper.
+
+"Couldn't you, dear little duckledoms? Well, you do know it now; and you
+know also how to act. Don't you see by the lines round my mouth and the
+expression in my eyes that I can be hard as hard when I please? I am
+going to be very hard now. My honor is involved in this. I promised that
+you would be there. There are presents being bought for you. Come you
+must; come you shall."
+
+Pauline stood quite silent; then she flung her arms to her sides and
+faced her tormentor.
+
+"There was a time," she said slowly, "when I loved you, Nancy. But I
+don't love you now. By-and-by, perhaps, you will be sorry that you have
+lost my love, for I think--yes, I think it is the sort that doesn't come
+back. I don't love you to-night because you are cruel, because you have
+already got me into a scrape, and you want to push me into a yet deeper
+one. I am not the sort of girl you think me. However grand and stately
+and like a lady Aunt Sophia is--and compared to you and me, Nancy, she is
+very stately and very grand and very noble--I would not give you up. Aunt
+Sophy is a lady with a great brave heart, and her ideas are up-in-the-air
+ideas, and she doesn't know anything about mean and low and vulgar
+things. I'd have clung to you, Nancy, and always owned you as my friend,
+even if Aunt Sophy had taken me into good society. Yes, I'd have stuck to
+you whatever happened; but now"--Pauline pressed her hand to her
+heart--"everything is altered. You are cruel, and I don't love you any
+more. But I am in such trouble, and so completely in despair, that I will
+come to the picnic; and if I can bring two of the girls, I will. There is
+nothing more to say. You may expect us at eleven o'clock on Wednesday
+night."
+
+"But there is more to say," cried Nancy.
+
+She flew at Pauline, and before she could stop her Nancy had lifted the
+younger girl into her strong arms. She had not only lifted her into her
+arms, but she was running with her in the direction where Becky and Amy
+were minding the pony.
+
+"Hurrah! I have won!" she cried. "She yields. Come and kiss her, the
+little duck.--Pauline, you silly, if you don't love me, I love you; and
+you will soon find out for yourself what a good time you are going to
+have, and what a goose you have made of yourself with all this ridiculous
+fuss. What a grand birthday you are going to have, Paulie! A birthday for
+a whole twenty-four hours--a whole day and a whole night! Remember, there
+will be presents, there will be surprises, there will be love, there will
+be sweetness. Trust us, you will never get into a scrape for this. Now
+run along home as fast as you can."
+
+Pauline did not run. She closed the wicket-gate and walked soberly to the
+house. Strange as it may seem, once she had made her decision, the fact
+that she was to deceive her aunt, and do the thing that of all others
+would fill Aunt Sophia with horror, did not pain her. The conflict was
+over; she must rest now until the time came to go. She was a clever
+child, and she thought out the situation with wonderful clearness. She
+must go. There was no help for it. The sin must be sinned. After all,
+perhaps, it was not such a very great sin. Aunt Sophia would be happier
+if she never knew anything at all about it.
+
+"If I go she will never know," thought the child. "Nancy is clever, and
+now that I have yielded to her she will not fail me. If I go it will
+never be discovered, and what has happened before will never be
+discovered; and Aunt Sophy will never have reason to distrust me, for she
+will never know. Yes," thought Pauline, "it is the only possible way."
+
+She saw Penelope coming to meet her. The other girls were still busy with
+their birthday surprises, but Penelope had just deposited her own small
+and somewhat shabby present in Verena's keeping, and was now, as she
+expressed it, taking the air. When she saw Pauline she ran to meet her.
+
+"I suppose you are feeling yourself monstrous 'portant, and all that sort
+of thing," she said.
+
+"No, I am not," said Pauline.
+
+Penelope gave her a quick glance out of her sharp eyes.
+
+"Does you like me to be nursery or schoolroom child?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I like you to be just what you are, Pen; and I do beg of you not to
+worry me just now."
+
+"You is most ungrateful. I has been spending my teeny bit of money on
+you. You will know what I has done on your birthday. You are going to get
+a most 'licious present, and it will be I who has gived it to you.
+Sometimes I does wish I was two years older; but Aunt Sophy has got
+monstrous fond of me, Paulie, and of you, too. I know it. Shall I tell
+you how I know it?"
+
+"How?" asked Pauline.
+
+"I was standing near her when you said you wouldn't go for a drive, and
+she gave a big sigh, just as though she was hurted. I was hurted, too,
+for I thought I might perhaps sit on the little back-seat and hear more'n
+is good for me. People always say that little girls like me hear more'n
+is good for them. I love--I love hearing things of that wicked sort.
+Well, you didn't go, and I couldn't have my nice drive on the little
+back-seat. But Aunt Sophy did give a pained sigh. She loves you, does
+Aunt Sophy. She loves me, too."
+
+"Do you love me, Pen?" said Pauline suddenly, for it occurred to her that
+perhaps Penelope was the child who would have to accompany her to the
+midnight picnic. She knew enough of Penelope to be sure that she could be
+bribed. She was not so certain about the others.
+
+"Do you love me, Pen?" she repeated.
+
+"When you speak in that softy, sympathisy voice, I feel that I could just
+hug you," said Penelope.
+
+"Then would you really help me?"
+
+"Really and really. What am I to do? If you will whisper secrets to me, I
+will even forget that I am certain you know something most 'portant about
+that thimble, and I will cling to you like anything. You will be the oak,
+and I will be the ivy. It will be most lovely to be the close friend of
+the birthday queen. I do--oh, I do hope you are going to tell me a great
+secret!"
+
+"Perhaps I am, but I can't tell you now."
+
+"When will you tell me?"
+
+"If I ever tell you, it will be before midday on my birthday. Now run
+away. Don't whisper a word of this."
+
+"Not me," said Penelope. "I was borned to keep secrets."
+
+She marched away in her usual stalwart fashion.
+
+"I may have to take her with me," thought Pauline again. "If the others
+won't be bribed, I must fall back on her."
+
+She felt a curious sense of relief, for of course Penelope could be
+bribed. A shilling would do it. Penelope would go to the end of the earth
+for a shilling, particularly if it was given to her all in pence. Twelve
+separate pence would send Penelope off her head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE CONFERENCE.
+
+
+It was late on the following evening when Pauline found herself alone
+with Briar and Patty. Both these little girls had plenty of character;
+but perhaps Patty had more of that estimable quality than her sister.
+They were both straightforward by nature, upright and noble, and were
+already benefiting by the discipline which had at last come into their
+lives. The glories of the birthday which was so near were already
+beginning to shed some of their rays over Pauline, and her sisters felt
+themselves quite honored by her company.
+
+"To think," said Briar, "that you are really only Paulie! I can scarcely
+bring myself to believe it."
+
+"Why so?" asked Pauline.
+
+"In twelve hours' time--in less--you will be a queen."
+
+"It is rather like the Lord Mayor," said Patty. "It's all very grand, but
+it lasts for a very short time. Aunt Sophy was telling us to-day about
+the Lord Mayor and the great, tremendous Show, and I began to think of
+Pauline and her birthday. I could not help myself. It is a pity that a
+birthday should only last such a very short time!"
+
+"Yes, that is the worst of it," said Pauline. "But then it comes every
+year. Perhaps it is all for the best that it should have a quick come and
+a quick go. Of course, I shall be very happy to-morrow, but I dare say I
+shall be glad when the next day arrives."
+
+"Not you," said Briar. "I have known what the next day meant, even when
+we had only shilling birthdays. The others used to cry out, 'Your
+birthday is the farthest off now.' I used to keep my head covered under
+the bedclothes rather than hear them say it. Adelaide and Josephine
+always said it. But don't let's get melancholy over it now," continued
+Briar in a sympathetic tone. "When you lie down to-night you won't be
+able to sleep much; but you will sleep like a top to-morrow night. I
+expect you will wake about every two minutes to-night. Oh, it is exciting
+the night before a birthday! Even when we had shilling birthdays I used
+to wake the night before every few minutes. Once I got up at four o'clock
+in the morning. I went out. I had a cold afterwards, and a bad sore
+throat, but I never told anybody how I got it. If I was excited about my
+poor little birthday, what will you be to-morrow?"
+
+"I don't know," said Pauline. "Listen, girls. I am so excited in one
+sense that I couldn't be any more so. I am so excited that I'm not
+excited. Can you understand what I mean?"
+
+"No, I'm sure I can't a bit," said Briar.
+
+"And it's quite likely," continued Pauline, "that I shall have no sleep
+at all the night after my birthday."
+
+"What do you mean now?" asked Briar.
+
+Pauline looked mysterious. The two girls glanced at her. Suddenly Pauline
+put one arm around Briar's neck and the other arm round Patty's neck.
+
+"You are the nicest of us all--that is, of course, except Verena," she
+said. "I have always been fonder of you two than of Adelaide or Josephine
+or Helen or Lucy. As to Pen, well, I don't suppose any of us feel to Pen
+as we do to the rest. She is so different. Yes, I love you two. I love
+you just awfully."
+
+"It is sweet of you to say that; and, seeing that you are to have a
+birthday so soon, it makes us feel sort of distinguished," said Briar.
+
+"How old are you, Briar?"
+
+"I'll be thirteen next May. That's a long time off. I do wish my birthday
+had waited until Aunt Sophy came on the scene."
+
+"And my birthday comes in the winter," said Patty--"near Christmas; but I
+dare say Aunt Sophy will give us a good time then, too."
+
+"I do like her awfully," said Pauline. "Now, girls, I want to ask you a
+question. I know you won't tell, for you are not the sort to tell."
+
+"Of course we won't tell, Paulie."
+
+"And you love me, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," echoed both little girls.
+
+"This is my question. If I do something that is not just exactly
+absolutely right, will you still love me?"
+
+"Why, of course. We're not so wonderfully good ourselves," said Briar.
+
+"I know what you are thinking of," said Patty. "You are thinking of
+Punishment Day. But we have forgotten all about that."
+
+"I was thinking of Punishment Day. And now I want to say something. I
+want to make the most tremendous confidence. I want to tell you the most
+tremendous secret."
+
+"Oh!" echoed both.
+
+"Light that candle, Briar," said Pauline.
+
+Briar crossed the room, struck a match, lit the candle, and then turned
+to see what her darling Paulie wished further.
+
+"Bring it right over here," said Pauline. "Put it on this table."
+
+Briar did so.
+
+"Kneel down, Briar, so that the light from the candle falls full on your
+face."
+
+Briar knelt. Her eyes were beaming with happiness.
+
+"Look at me," said Pauline.
+
+Briar raised two honest and pretty brown eyes to her sister's face.
+
+"I think," said Pauline slowly, "that you are the sort of girl to make a
+promise--a solemn, awfully solemn promise--and stick to it."
+
+"Yes; you are right. I am made that way," said Briar proudly.
+
+"I see you are. Patty, will you kneel so that the candle may shine on
+your face?"
+
+Patty hurried to obey.
+
+"I am made like that, too," she said. "I always was like that. When I
+said I wouldn't tell, you might pinch me black and blue, but it didn't
+change me. Pen has tried to run pins into me sometimes to make me tell.
+Pen is the only one who would tell when she promised not."
+
+"I think so," said Pauline decidedly. "Pen would not do at all. Girls, I
+shall come to you to-morrow evening. To-morrow evening, very late, I will
+come to you here. Perhaps you will have gone to bed, but that won't
+matter. I will come to you whether you are in bed or whether you are up;
+and I will claim your promise. You will do what I ask, and you will
+never, never, never tell. You must help me. You will--oh, you will!"
+
+"Of course," said Briar. "Darling Paulie, don't cry. Oh, how the pet is
+trembling! Patty, she's trembling like anything. Do kiss her and hug her,
+and tell her there's nothing we wouldn't do for her."
+
+"There's nothing in all the world we wouldn't do for you," said Patty.
+
+They both kissed her so often and with such deep affection that she found
+herself leaning on their innocent strength. She would not tell them yet;
+she would tell them just before the time to-morrow evening. Of course
+they would go with her. Pen would never do. It would be madness to
+confide in Pen.
+
+Notwithstanding her excitement Pauline did sleep soundly that night
+before her birthday. No sooner had her head touched the pillow than sweet
+unconsciousness visited her. She slept without dreaming, and was at last
+awakened by the shouts of her sisters.
+
+"Paulie, get up. It's your birthday. Oh, do dress yourself fast! There's
+such a lot of fun going on! We are to have a whole holiday, and Aunt
+Sophy is so delightful. And what do you think? She has dragged father out
+of his study, and he is standing in the very middle of the lawn. He has a
+huge, untidy-looking parcel in his hands, and he looks as if he didn't in
+the least know what to do with it. He is trying each moment to escape
+back into the house, but Aunt Sophy won't let him. She says he must not
+stir until you come down. Poor father does look in misery. Be quick and
+dress and come downstairs."
+
+At this moment there was a shout from below, and the three girls who had
+summoned Pauline from the land of dreams rushed off, dashing through the
+house with whoops of triumph.
+
+Pauline rose and dressed quickly. She put on the pretty pale lavender
+print frock that Aunt Sophia had decided she was to wear, and went
+downstairs. When she joined the others Mr. Dale greeted her with one of
+his slow, sweet smiles.
+
+"How are you, darling?" he said. "I have a sort of idea that I am kept
+standing here on this lawn, exposed to the heat of a very powerful sun,
+on your account."
+
+"Of course it is on Pauline's account, Henry," said Miss Sophia. "It is
+her birthday. Kiss me, Pauline, dear. Many happy returns of the day.
+Henry, give your daughter her present. She is fourteen to-day."
+
+"Fourteen! Ah!" said Mr. Dale, "a charming age. The ancients considered a
+woman grown-up at fourteen."
+
+"But no one is so silly in these days," said Miss Tredgold. "We know that
+a girl is never more childish than at fourteen. Henry, open that parcel
+and give Pauline what it contains."
+
+Mr. Dale dropped the brown-paper parcel at his feet. He looked at it in
+bewilderment.
+
+"It is heavy," he said. "I haven't the least idea what is in it."
+
+"It is your present to your daughter."
+
+"Ah!" said Mr. Dale, "I forgot; and I packed it myself last night. My
+child, I wonder if you are worthy of it."
+
+"I don't suppose I am, father," said Pauline.
+
+"For goodness' sake open it, Henry, and don't torture the child's
+feelings."
+
+"I put it in an old bandbox," said Mr. Dale. "I couldn't find anything
+else. Pauline, in giving you what I am about to give you, I show a high
+appreciation of your character. I remember now what my present is. I had
+an awful night in consequence of it. I felt as though one of my limbs was
+being severed from my body. Nevertheless, my dear, I don't retract nor go
+back, for that is not my way. I give you this most noble gift with a
+distinct object. I have lately been examining all your foreheads.
+Although I have appeared to take little notice of you, I have watched you
+as day by day I have enjoyed the excellent food provided by your most
+worthy aunt. While my body was feeding, my mind was occupying itself, and
+I have at last come to the decision that you, my child, are the only one
+of my young people who has been blessed with a classical brow. As yet you
+have not even begun to learn the language of the ancients; but now that
+you have reached the mature age of fourteen, I shall be pleased to
+instruct you myself for one hour daily, in both that Latin and Greek
+which delighted our forefathers."
+
+"But the Romans and Greeks were not our forefathers," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+She snapped out the words quite angrily, and the look on her aunt's face
+caused Pauline to go closer to her father and take one of his long white
+hands and hold it close to her heart.
+
+"It doesn't matter whether we are descended from them or not, does it,
+Padre?" she said.
+
+"All that is noble in thought, all that is original, all that partakes of
+inspiration, has come down to us from the classics," said Mr. Dale. "But
+take your gift, Pauline. Now, my dear children, I beseech of you, don't
+keep me any longer from my important work."
+
+He was striding towards the house, when Verena got in front of him, Briar
+stood at his left hand, Patty at his right, and Adelaide, Josephine,
+Lucy, Helen, and Penelope came up in the rear.
+
+"You don't stir," they cried, "until Paulie opens her parcel."
+
+So Pauline knelt down on the grass, untied the clumsy cord, and removed
+the brown paper. She then lifted the lid from a broken-down bandbox and
+revealed a musty, fusty tome bound in old calf.
+
+"It is my precious annotated edition of Cicero," said Mr. Dale. "I have
+written your name in it--'Pauline Dale, from her affectionate father.' It
+is yours now, and it will be yours in the future. If you like to leave it
+on the shelf in my study, I shall not object, but it is yours to do what
+you like with."
+
+He sighed profoundly, and turned away with his lip trembling.
+
+"Good gracious!" Miss Tredgold was heard to exclaim. Then she spoke to
+Adelaide.
+
+"Run into the house and bring out a cup of coffee. The precious man gets
+queerer each moment. What a present to give the child!"
+
+Pauline raised the big book and clasped it against her neat lilac frock.
+
+"Thank you, father," she said. "I will learn to read it. Thank you very
+much."
+
+"And you don't object to its occupying its old place on my shelf?"
+
+"No. Shall I run and put it there now?"
+
+"Do. You are really a wise child. Sophia, as I have given Pauline her
+present, I presume I need not stay out any longer wasting my precious
+time and running the risk of sunstroke."
+
+Miss Tredgold nodded and laughed. Adelaide appeared with the coffee. Mr.
+Dale drank it off at a single draught. Pauline ran into the house with
+the treasure which was hers and yet not hers. For surely never during his
+lifetime would Mr. Dale allow that special edition of Cicero out of his
+study. She put it gravely and quietly into its accustomed place, kissed
+her father, told him she appreciated his present beyond words, and then
+went back to her sisters and aunt, who were waiting for her.
+
+What a day it was! What a wonderful, magnificent day! The weather was
+perfect; the air was sweet; the garden was full of perfume. And then the
+presents. Every imaginable thing that a little girl could want was poured
+at the feet of the birthday queen. The story-books she had longed for;
+the little writing-desk she had always coveted but never possessed; the
+workbox with its reels of colored silks, its matchless pair of scissors,
+its silver thimble, its odds and ends of every sort and description; the
+tennis-bat; the hockey-club; the new saddle that would exactly fit
+Peas-blossom: all these things and many more were given to Pauline. But
+besides the richer and more handsome presents, there were the sort of
+pretty things that only love could devise--that charming little
+pin-cushion for her dressing-table; that pen-wiper; that bag for her
+brush and comb; that case for her night-dress. Some of the gifts were
+clumsy, but all were prompted by love. Love had begun them, and gone on
+with them, and finished them, and Pauline laughed and had brighter eyes
+and more flushed cheeks each moment as the day progressed.
+
+After breakfast Miss Tredgold took her nieces for a drive. The little
+party were all packed into the wagonette, and then they went off. They
+drove for miles and miles under the trees of the Forest. Miss Tredgold
+told more interesting and fascinating stories of her own life than she
+had ever told before. The girls listened to her with the most absorbed
+attention. As a rule Miss Tredgold's stories carried a moral with them;
+but the birthday stories had no moral. Pauline waited for one. She waited
+with a sort of trembling dread. She expected it to intrude its sober face
+at each moment, but it did not put in an appearance anywhere. It stayed
+out of sight in the most delightful and graceful manner. Soon the girls,
+Pauline amongst them, forgot to look out for the moral. Then Verena began
+telling anecdotes of the past, and Pauline joined her; and the children
+laughed, and nearly cried with delight. That drive was the happiest they
+had ever enjoyed.
+
+But it was somewhat late in the afternoon when the birthday treat came to
+its culmination. They were having tea on the lawn, a most fascinating
+tea, with a frosted cake in the middle of the table, on which Pauline's
+name was inscribed in golden letters, and round which were lighted
+fourteen little wax candles, denoting that she had now come to that
+mature age. The candles were protected by tiny glass shades, so that the
+soft summer air could not blow them about, and all the girls thought they
+had never seen such a wonderful sight. Mr. Dale was abducted from his
+study--there was really no other word to describe the way in which he was
+carried off bodily--and requested to light the candles. He did so looking
+very confused, and as though he did not in the least comprehend what he
+was doing. Nevertheless he was there, and he was obliged to seat himself
+in the centre of the group; and then garlands and garlands of flowers
+suddenly made their appearance, and Pauline was conducted to her throne,
+and a crown of tiny roses was placed on her dark head, and wreaths of
+flowers were laid at her feet.
+
+"Now you are queen, Pauline," said Miss Tredgold. "Your father and I and
+your sisters are bound to obey you from now until ten o'clock to-night.
+This is your reign. It is short, but full of possibilities. What are we
+to do for you, fair queen? In what way do you wish to employ us?"
+
+"May I wish for anything?" asked Pauline eagerly.
+
+She had a flashing thought as she uttered the words--a quick, terrible,
+agonized thought. Oh, if only she might claim her birthright! If only she
+might put into use her grand privilege and ask for the one thing she
+really wanted--a free, absolute pardon! If she might confess her sin
+without confessing it, and get her aunt and father to say that, whatever
+she had done in the past, she was forgiven now! Just for an instant her
+black eyes looked almost wild; then they fixed themselves on Miss
+Tredgold, who was looking at her attentively. She glanced beyond her, and
+met the great black eyes of Penelope. Penelope seemed to be reading
+Pauline. Pauline felt a sudden revulsion of feeling.
+
+"That would never do," she said to herself.
+
+"Why don't you speak?" said Verena in her gentle voice.
+
+"I was considering what to ask," replied Pauline.
+
+"It isn't to ask, it is to command," said Miss Tredgold. "What sort of a
+queen would you make, Pauline, if you really had a kingdom? This is your
+kingdom. It lasts for a few hours; still, for the present it is your own.
+Your sway is absolute."
+
+"Then let us have hide-and-seek in the garden," she said.
+
+She laughed. The spell was broken. Penelope's eyes lost their watchful
+glance. The girls were all agreeable. Mr. Dale rose to his feet.
+
+"I have had my tea," he said, "and the queen has received her crown. I am
+truly thankful that birthdays don't last longer than a day. I presume
+there is no reason why I may not return to my study."
+
+"No, father, you mustn't stir," said Pauline. "You are my subject, and I
+command you to play hide-and-seek. You and Aunt Sophy must hide together.
+Now let us begin."
+
+The games that followed were provocative of mirth. Even Mr. Dale was
+heard to chuckle feebly. This was when Josephine put her hand into his
+pocket and withdrew his handkerchief. He made a scholarly remark the next
+moment to Miss Tredgold, who replied:
+
+"For goodness' sake, Henry, come down from the clouds. This is your
+child's birthday. It is all very well to know all that musty stuff, but
+there are times when it is fifty times better to be full of nonsense."
+
+Mr. Dale groaned, and then Lucy seemed to spring out of the ground. She
+laughed in his face, and cried out that she had found him.
+
+So the merry game proceeded. It had nearly come to an end when Pauline
+and Penelope found themselves alone.
+
+"I waited for you at twelve o'clock," said Penelope, "but you never
+comed. Why didn't you?"
+
+"I didn't want to, Pen. I have changed my mind. Think no more about what
+I said."
+
+"I can't never forget it," replied Pen.
+
+But then she heard a whoop from a distant enemy, and darted to another
+part of the garden.
+
+The game of hide-and-seek was followed by another, and then another and yet
+another, and the cries of mirth and laughter sounded all over the place.
+Even Betty forgot the tragic end of the Duke of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton,
+who was killed by a brigand in Italy while defending his fair duchess.
+Betty had been weeping scalding tears over the tragedy when the sound of
+mirth called her forth. John accompanied her, and the other servants looked
+on in the distance.
+
+"There never was such a rowdy family," said Betty.
+
+"Rowdy do you call it?" cried John.
+
+"Yes; and the very rowdiest is Miss Tredgold. For mercy's sake look at
+the way she runs! She's as fleet as a hare."
+
+"She have very neat ankles," said John. "I call her a neat figure of a
+woman."
+
+"Don't tell me," said Betty. "Much you know what a neat figure of a woman
+means. Miss Tredgold's a haristocrat. Now, if you'll believe me, she's
+the moral image of the duchess."
+
+"What duchess?" cried John.
+
+"The Duchess of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton--her that's just made a widow,
+and is crying her eyes out over the murdered remains of the poor dook."
+
+"Sometimes," said John, "I think that you have gone off your head, Betty.
+But I can't stay to listen to any more of these nonsenses. I have my
+garden to look after."
+
+The final delight before the curtain of that birthday was dropped down
+for ever found its vent in music--music in which Mr. Dale took a part,
+and in which Miss Tredgold excelled herself. It was the music that awoke
+Pauline's slumbering conscience. It was during that music that her heart
+truly began to understand itself.
+
+"I am wicked--a coward and a liar," she thought. "But, all the same, I am
+going on, for I must. Aunt Sophy loves me, and I love her, and I wouldn't
+have her love turned to hate for all the world. She must never find out
+what I did in the past, and the only way to keep it from her is to go on
+as I am going on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+A WILD FROLIC.
+
+
+The first part of the birthday was absolutely over, but the second
+part--the terrifying, awful part--was at hand. Aunt Sophy had kissed
+Pauline and had blessed her by a look. Her father had also put his
+trembling hand on her shoulder.
+
+"When you want to read that lovely volume of Cicero," he said, "come to
+me and I will teach you. I will spare a few minutes of my valuable time
+to give you instruction."
+
+Verena had also kissed her heartily, and she and the rest of her sisters
+had gone to bed. They were all tired. Verena came for a minute into
+Pauline's little room.
+
+"I am too sleepy even to brush my hair in your room to-night, Paulie,"
+she said. "I am too sleepy to talk about our long happy day. What a pile
+of presents you have got! Don't you think you have had a perfect
+birthday? I only wish mine was near at hand."
+
+"It will come in good time," said Pauline; "and even birthdays----"
+
+She broke off abruptly.
+
+"What do you mean by 'even birthdays'?" asked Verena. "What were you
+going to say?"
+
+"I was going to say that even birthdays had drawbacks. I know that I am
+dead-tired."
+
+"You look it, darling. Do turn into bed and go to sleep."
+
+Verena kissed her sister and left the room.
+
+Pauline stood by the attic window. The window was a French one, and was
+wide open. The night was warm; the sky was without a cloud; stars like
+diamonds dotted the firmament; the sky itself looked darkly blue. Pauline
+felt a sudden thrill going through her. It was a thrill from the nobler
+part of her being. The whole day, and all that happened in the day, had
+wrought her up to her present state of feeling. A touch now and she would
+have confessed all. A touch, a look, would have done it--for the child,
+with her many faults, was capable of noble deeds; but the touch was not
+there, nor the word of gentle advice given. Had her mother been alive,
+Pauline would have certainly gone to her and confessed what she had done.
+As it was, she only felt that, in order to save herself from the past,
+she must do something much more wicked in the future.
+
+She waited until she was quite certain that Verena was in bed; then she
+gently unfastened the door of her room and stole out on to the landing.
+There was not a light in the house. All the tired people had gone to bed.
+She reached the room, at the farther end of the same wing, where Briar
+and Patty slept. The sleeping attics occupied two wings of the old house,
+the centre part of the house being without rooms in the roof. Pauline,
+Verena, Briar, and Patty slept in one of the wings, the rest of the girls
+and the nursery children in the other. Mr. Dale had the room exactly
+under the large attic occupied by Briar and Patty. Miss Tredgold's room
+was under the nursery wing.
+
+Pauline now very gently opened the door of the room where her two little
+sisters slept. They were not asleep; they were sitting up in their beds
+waiting for her.
+
+"We thought you would come, Paulie," said Briar. "We are so excited! What
+is it you want us to do for you, darling Paulie?"
+
+"To save me! To save me!" said Pauline.
+
+Her tone was dramatic; her action was more so. She fell on her knees by
+Briar's bed; she clasped her arms round the little girl's neck; she laid
+her head on her shoulder and burst into tears. The birthday queen was
+weeping. Could emotion go beyond that fact? Patty bounded out of her bed
+and knelt by Pauline's other side. The two little girls clasped their
+arms round her. She had exercised a glamour over them all day, which now
+became greater than ever. Was she not their queen? Oh, yes, until
+midnight she was their own dear and absolutely beautiful queen. An hour
+was still left of her sovereignty. She had quite stolen their hearts;
+they loved her like anything.
+
+"What is it, Paulie?" said Briar.
+
+"I must tell you," said Pauline. "I know you won't betray me."
+
+"Indeed we won't," they both answered.
+
+"Well, then, this is what has happened."
+
+She began to tell her story. She told it quickly, for the time was short.
+If they were to meet Nancy they must steal away almost at once. Pauline
+told her tale with scarcely any comment. When it was finished she looked
+at her sisters. The moonlight was in the room, and Pauline's face looked
+ghastly, but it looked beautiful also. Her eyes were very big and dark
+and solemn and beseeching. Briar and Patty glanced at each other.
+
+"Shall we?" said Briar.
+
+"It seems the only thing to do," said Patty.
+
+"All the same, it is awfully wrong," said Briar.
+
+"Think of poor Paulie," said Patty.
+
+"If we are discovered----" cried Briar.
+
+"Oh, bother!" interrupted Patty. "She's our queen. We must obey her. We
+are bound to help her. Let us go. She mustn't run into danger. You know
+what Nancy has said: two of us must go with her. She mustn't go alone."
+
+Briar leant towards Patty, and Patty whispered in her ear; and then the
+two little girls began to dress.
+
+"You are darlings," said Pauline. "I shall never forget this to
+you--never. I have everything else managed. I am going back to my room.
+When you are dressed you must shut the door of your room very quietly
+behind you, and then you must steal along the corridor and you will find
+my door just ajar. We will get out of my window by the beech-tree, and
+we'll be back and safe in our beds before any one is up in the morning."
+
+"It certainly is thrilling," said Briar, raising her voice in her
+excitement.
+
+"Oh, don't speak so loud!" said Pauline. "Dress very fast. I will wait
+for you in my room. I shall be quite ready."
+
+Pauline rushed back to her own room. She then put on a warm golf-cape and
+an old hat; and her arrangements having been completed, she bent out of
+the French window. In an incredibly short time Briar and Patty appeared.
+All three girls were now in the wildest state of excitement. Scruples
+were silenced for the time being. Pauline's conscience no longer spoke.
+She felt that a midnight picnic, stolen, partaken of under difficulties,
+sinned mightily to obtain, had its own inexplicable charm. It was
+certainly sweet to be naughty; there was a thrill about it, and a sense
+of adventure, which goodness never brought. Oh, yes, it was well worth
+the risk and danger. Her two little sisters partook of Pauline's
+feelings. They all easily reached the ground, and when they found
+themselves outside in the middle of the night, it was with difficulty
+that Briar could keep from giving a shriek of ecstasy.
+
+"I suppose it's because I'm so awfully naughty that I enjoy it so," she
+said.
+
+"Come along; don't speak," said Pauline.
+
+She took a hand of each sister. They ran quickly over the dew-laden
+grass. Their feet soon got wet, for they had forgotten to put on strong
+shoes. But what mattered that? What did small discomforts signify when
+the grand total of pleasure was so enormous?
+
+They opened the wicket-gate, and Pauline found herself immediately in the
+strong embrace of Nancy King.
+
+"There you are, darling!" she cried, bestowing a resounding kiss on her
+cheek. "I feared that the she-dragon would waken and call you back; but
+you are here, and you have brought--let me see. Oh, you are Patty, are
+you not? And Briar? You are my friends for ever now. Oh, we shall have
+fun! The wagonette is here, and the dogcart; there are a party of us, and
+a lot more coming to meet us at the rendezvous. We shall have the most
+glorious time you ever imagined."
+
+As Nancy spoke she called out to two girls who were standing in the
+shadow.
+
+"Becky, this is Briar Dale--in other words, Rose Dale. You are to see
+after her. Amy, Patty Dale is your charge. Now let us get into the
+wagonette, for it is the snuggest of all the carriages, and the horses
+are so fleet. Listen how they are pawing the ground; they're mad to be
+off. Oh, here's father! Father, three of the young Dales have come."
+
+"Pleased to see you, I'm sure," said the farmer. "It's a warm night for
+the time of year."
+
+The little girls did not answer. Even Pauline, now that she had met the
+rest of the party, felt curiously silent. A weight seemed to rest on her.
+Her wild and riotous spirits had died down. Her conscience was not
+troubling her, but she felt depressed, she scarcely knew why.
+
+"I want something to poke me up," she said to herself. "I thought I'd be
+quite riotous with bliss when I met Nancy. I don't feel riotous; and, oh,
+how white the moonlight is making Briar look! Briar," whispered Pauline
+suddenly, "are your feet very wet?"
+
+"Very: and they're getting so cold," said Briar.
+
+"What are you talking about?" said Nancy.
+
+"The fact is," said Pauline, "we forgot to put on our outdoor shoes, and
+the dew is very heavy."
+
+"Dear, dear! That will never do. Father, what do you think these silly
+little misses have done? They've come out in their house slippers."
+
+"I never!" cried the farmer. "You are silly little ladies; that I will
+say. I tell you what it is, Nance; we don't want these children to catch
+cold. Shall we drive back to The Hollies and get them some of your shoes?
+You have enough, I take it, to shoe a regiment."
+
+Nancy laughed.
+
+"They wouldn't fit," she said. "They'd be too big for any of them."
+
+"Well, then," said the farmer, "they shall all three take their shoes off
+and wrap their feet in these warm rugs. They can put them on again, and
+when the dancing begins they will soon dry."
+
+"Are we to dance?" said Pauline, her eyes sparkling.
+
+"You wait and see," said Nancy.
+
+"Yes, you wait and see," cried the farmer. "There are all sorts of
+surprises. And there's a birthday queen of this here party, ain't there,
+Nancy?"
+
+"I have heard tell that there was," said Nancy. As she spoke she took
+Pauline's hand and dragged the little girl forward to sit by her.
+
+The drive took some time, and the farmer and his party were extremely
+loud and riotous and merry. As they passed under the huge oak-trees some
+one in a dogcart went by, and the light from a lantern fell on his face.
+Pauline recognized Dr. Moffat. The moment she saw him he looked round,
+and she fancied that he must have seen her, and that his eyebrows went up
+with an expression of astonishment. But he did not look again; he only
+continued on his way.
+
+"I do hope he didn't see me," said Pauline to Nancy.
+
+"What matter if he did? He's thinking of his profession, and not of a
+little girl like you. I wonder where he is going to."
+
+"To Farmer Jackson," said Farmer King. "He broke his leg a fortnight ago,
+and they say mortification is setting in and he can't live. Poor Farmer
+Jackson! Here are we all on a rollick, so to speak, a midnight picnic in
+summer, and all our hearts as light as froth, and the farmer lying on the
+flat of his back and like to pass away before morning."
+
+Pauline felt uncomfortable. She turned her head away. She did not wish to
+think of the sober events of life at that moment.
+
+By-and-by the long drive came to an end. The girls again put on their wet
+slippers, and the next moment they found themselves inside a large
+marquee, with a boarded floor, where a magnificent feast was prepared at
+the farther end. The whole centre of the marquee was got ready for
+dancing, and a number of young people whom Pauline had never seen before
+were standing about in little knots, evidently waiting for the arrival of
+the farmer and his family.
+
+"There!" said Nancy. "Now, Paulie, what do you think? Here's feasting for
+you at this end, and there's dancing at the other, and if the Kings don't
+do things in style I don't know who do."
+
+"Ah, Miss King, and how are you?"
+
+"Pleased to see you, I'm sure," was Nancy's response.
+
+A bashful-looking young man with sandy hair and light-blue eyes now came
+forward. He was followed by a girl of similar type, and the two were
+introduced to Pauline as Mr. and Miss Minchin. The Minchins were
+accompanied by other neighbors, and the Dale girls found themselves in
+the midst of a party numbering at least fifty people.
+
+Pauline felt suddenly shy. As a rule she was not remarkable for this
+quality. She had a certain pretty assurance, and never, as her sisters
+expressed it, lost her head; but now her principal desire was to creep
+into her shell, not to answer the inane remarks made by the young men of
+the party, and on no account to allow them to put their arms round her
+waist and carry her round in the dance. Her face grew first red, then
+pale. She realized that she was very tired, and more than ever did she
+wish that she had never yielded to Nancy's enticements.
+
+Patty and Briar, on the other hand, were enjoying themselves very much.
+They had done this very naughty thing on account of Pauline; they were
+glad they were helping her--their consciences did not trouble them in the
+least. They leant upon Pauline more than they were themselves aware of.
+If trouble came, she would of course shield them. At present there was no
+trouble. A picnic in the middle of the night, miles away from home, was
+the most exciting thing they had ever imagined. It beat the joys of the
+birthday hollow. They were quite aware that by-and-by there would perhaps
+be repentance, but who could think of repentance now, with the feast--and
+such a feast!--on the board, and Fiddler Joe making such exquisite, mad,
+intoxicating music (it caused your feet to twitch so that they could
+scarcely keep still), and that floor as smooth as glass, and the summer
+moon entering through a chink in the big tent, and the gayly dressed
+people, and all the merry voices? Oh, it was an intoxicating time!
+
+So Briar danced with the first man who asked her, and Patty did likewise.
+They danced with the ease and lightness and grace of children in whom the
+accomplishment is born. Nancy's clumsy efforts, and the clumsy efforts of
+her friends, were nowhere beside them.
+
+"That little girl," said a rough-headed farmer, pointing to Patty as he
+spoke, "dances like the foam of the sea. I never saw anything like it in
+all my life."
+
+"But why doesn't the elder Miss Dale dance?" asked Farmer King.
+
+He had noticed that she was declining one partner after another.
+
+"Come, Miss Paulie," he said, going to her side: "this won't do. May I
+have the pleasure of a barn-dance with you, miss? You can't refuse me."
+
+Pauline did find it impossible to refuse the good man. He took her hand
+and led her out, and presently she, too, was being whirled round and
+round. But her sense of weariness increased, and the heavy pain and
+bewilderment at her heart grew worse. Oh, why had she come? Once the
+farmer, looking at her, saw tears in her eyes. In a moment he stopped
+dancing. He took her hand and led her to the other side of the tent.
+
+"You dance beautifully, miss," he said; "not quite so light as your
+little sister, but I am proud to be seen with you, miss, all the same.
+And now, if I may make so bold, what is the matter with you, Miss Pauline
+Dale?"
+
+"Nothing," answered Pauline.
+
+"Don't tell me," replied the farmer. "Is it in reason that a little lady
+like yourself would have tears in her eyes at a moment like the present
+if there was nothing the matter? Is it in reason, miss?"
+
+"Oh, I ought not to have come!" said Pauline.
+
+The farmer's face grew rather red. He looked full at Pauline for a
+moment; then he said:
+
+"I can't speak out now, for it's only the beginning of the fun. There's a
+great deal planned, and you are in the thick of it, but before you go
+back home I'll have a word with you; so cheer up, my pretty little miss,
+for things that aren't right can be put right. You trust Farmer King for
+that."
+
+Pauline did cheer up. She felt that the farmer was her friend, and she
+also knew that he was a friend worth having. The other girls met her once
+or twice, and Patty whispered:
+
+"Oh, there never was anything like this before! I could be naughty every
+single night of my life to have such fun!"
+
+The dance was followed by the feast, and the feast was A1. When it was
+over there was a moment of silence. Then Nancy, accompanied by Briar and
+Patty, Becky and Amy, and the two boys, Jack and Tom, assembled round the
+seat where Pauline had placed herself.
+
+"It is your turn, Paulie," said Nancy. "You are queen of to-night, for it
+is the night following your birthday. Come, queen, take your throne."
+
+"I am sick of thrones," answered Pauline.
+
+But Nancy took her hand.
+
+"Whatever you feel, you must not show it," she said, "for that will spoil
+everything. Here is your throne; step up."
+
+Pauline looked round her. Up to the present moment a curtain had been
+drawn across one end of the tent. It was now removed, and the little girl
+saw a deep chair covered completely with flowers and moss and ferns. A
+bright light was hanging just at the back of this throne. Now Pauline, as
+queen of the day, was led up to it, and requested to take her seat
+thereon. She did so, feeling queer and giddy. When she was seated the
+young people stood in groups at her right hand and at her left.
+
+The farmer now appeared, carrying a table. All the guests stood in the
+background and looked on. The table was placed in front of Pauline. At
+the same instant Nancy bent forward and laid her hand across the little
+girl's eyes.
+
+"Don't look just for a minute," she said.
+
+Pauline heard the ecstatic whispers of her own little sisters, and for
+the first time a feeling of wonder and pleasure stole over her. She
+forgot all that had gone before, and for the time was both happy and
+excited.
+
+"Now you may look," said Nancy.
+
+As Pauline opened her eyes she felt something cool and soft descending on
+her head.
+
+"Don't touch it," whispered Nancy; "it's your crown. But come, girls and
+boys, we must do more than this to make our queen beautiful."
+
+As she spoke all the young people divided into two groups, crossed the
+floor, and came past Pauline as she sat on her throne; and each one, as
+she or he passed, threw a wreath of flowers either over the head of the
+little girl, or round her neck, or into her lap, until finally she found
+herself absolutely embedded in flowers.
+
+"Look at yourself," said Nancy, suddenly slipping a looking-glass in
+front of the birthday queen. "Tell us what you see."
+
+Pauline looked. The lights were so managed that she could see everything
+distinctly. The lights fell full upon her. She saw a pair of dark eyes,
+sweet, anxious, and beautiful; she saw a radiant and rosy face. Lilies of
+the valley, sweet-peas, and summer roses fell about her soft dark hair.
+Similar flowers fell about her neck. Her dress was hidden beneath its
+wealth of flowers; her charming face rose out of a perfect foam of
+flowers.
+
+"Oh, I do look beautiful!" she said aloud, and at the naive remark the
+whole party shouted with merriment. Nancy cried, "Long life to the
+queen!" and Joe the Fiddler burst into his merriest strains; it was with
+the greatest difficulty that the desire for dancing could be suppressed,
+for the little ceremony was not yet quite over. It was Nancy's turn to
+come forward.
+
+"Queen of the night," she said, "we hope that you will like what we, your
+subjects, have done for you, and we hope that you will never forget your
+happy birthday. There is just one thing I have to say. When the flowers
+fade--and they are fading already--you, dear queen, will have no longer a
+kingdom, so we have brought you something; we have subscribed among us
+for something that will not fade--something that you can always wear in
+memory of us. Look! isn't it beautiful?"
+
+As Nancy spoke, she took a morocco case from the table, touched a spring,
+and revealed to Pauline's dazzled eyes, a necklace of thin pure gold, to
+which a little locket, with a diamond in the centre, was attached.
+
+"This won't fade," said Nancy. "You can keep it all your life long. You
+can also remember that there are people in the world, perhaps born a
+little lower than yourself, who love you and care for you."
+
+"Oh, you are good!" cried Pauline. "I will never forsake you, Nancy, or
+think myself better than you are."
+
+"Didn't I say she was a brick?" said Nancy. "Stoop your head, queen; I
+will clasp the necklace around your neck."
+
+Pauline did stoop her head, and the necklace was put in its place. The
+little diamond in the centre glittered as though it had a heart of fire.
+The flowers smelled sweet, but also heavy. Pauline was tired once again;
+but the music was resumed. Fiddler Joe played more enchanting music than
+before, and Pauline, suddenly rising from her throne, determined to dance
+during the remaining hours of that exciting night.
+
+But all happy things, and all naughty things come to an end, for such is
+the fashion of earth; and by-and-by the farmer said that if they wished
+to be home before morning they must get into the wagonette and the
+dogcart, and their guests must take themselves away. Now it was the
+farmer's turn to come up to Pauline.
+
+"You have given us all pleasure to-night, Miss Pauline," he said; "and it
+warms our hearts to feel that, whatever the circumstances, you will
+always be true to us, who have been true to you and yours for
+generations. For, miss, the history of the Dales is almost bound up with
+the history of the Kings. And if the Dales were gentlefolks and lords of
+the manor, the Kings were their humble retainers. So, miss, the Dales and
+Kings were always good to each other; the Kings over and over again
+laying down their lives for the Dales in the Civil Wars, and the Dales on
+their part protecting the Kings. So, after all, miss, there's no earthly
+reason, because a grand aunt of yours has come to live at The Dales, why
+the traditions of your house should be neglected and forgotten. I am
+proud to feel that this will never happen, and that your family and mine
+will be one. We do not consider ourselves your equals, but we do consider
+ourselves your friends. And if I can ever help you, Miss Pauline, you
+have only to come to me and I will do it. That's all I've got to say. I
+don't want thanks. I'm proud that you and your little sisters have
+trusted yourselves to us to-night, and I leave the matter of whether it
+was right or wrong to your own consciences. But whatever happens, what
+you did to-night is the sort of thing that Farmer King will never
+forget."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+VINEGAR.
+
+
+It was certainly not at all remarkable that the entire party should be
+drowsy and languid on the following day. Pauline had dark shadows under
+her eyes, and there was a fretful note in her voice. Nurse declared that
+Briar and Patty had caught cold, and could not imagine how they had
+managed to do so; but Miss Tredgold said that colds were common in hot
+weather, and that the children had played too long in the open air on the
+previous night. In short, those who were out of the mischief suspected
+nothing, and Pauline began to hope that her wild escapade would never be
+known. Certainly Briar and Patty would not betray her.
+
+They had all managed to climb up the tree and get in at her window
+without a soul knowing. Pauline therefore hoped that she was quite safe;
+and the hope that this was the case revived her spirits, so that in the
+afternoon she was looking and feeling much as usual. As she was dressing
+that morning she had made a sort of vow. It was not a bit the right thing
+to do, but then poor little Pauline was not doing anything very right
+just then. This was her vow. She had said in her prayer to God:
+
+"If You will keep Aunt Sophy from finding out how naughty I have been, I
+will, on my part, be extra good. I will do my lessons most perfectly, and
+never, never, never deceive Aunt Sophy again."
+
+Now, Pauline, unaware that such a prayer could not possibly be answered,
+felt a certain sense of security after she had made it.
+
+In addition to the beautiful chain with its locket and its diamond star
+in the middle, she had received several other presents of the gay and
+loud and somewhat useless sort. Nancy's friends, Becky and Amy, had both
+given her presents, and several young people of the party had brought
+little trifles to present to the queen of the occasion. There was a time
+when Pauline would have been highly delighted with these gifts, but that
+time was not now. She felt the impossible tidies, the ugly pin-cushions,
+the hideous toilet-covers, the grotesque night-dress bags to be more
+burdens than treasures. What could she possibly do with them? The gold
+chain and locket were another matter. She felt very proud of her chain
+and her little heart-shaped locket. She was even mad enough to fasten the
+chain round her neck that morning and hide it beneath her frock, and so
+go downstairs with the diamond resting on her heart.
+
+Miss Tredgold had wisely resolved that there were to be very few lessons
+that day. The girls were to read history and a portion of one of
+Shakespeare's plays, and afterwards they were to sit in the garden and do
+their fancy-work. They were all glad of the quiet day and of the absence
+of excitement, and as evening progressed they recovered from their
+fatigue, and Pauline was as merry as the rest.
+
+It was not until preparation hour that Pauline felt a hand laid on her
+arm; two keen black eyes looked into her face, and a small girl clung to
+her side.
+
+"Oh, what is it, Pen?" said Pauline, almost crossly. "What do you want
+now?"
+
+"I thought perhaps you'd like to know," replied Penelope.
+
+"To know what, you tiresome child? Don't press up against me; I hate
+being pawed."
+
+"Does you? Perhaps you'd rather things was knowed."
+
+"What is it, Pen? You are always so mysterious and tiresome."
+
+"Only that I think you ought to tell me," said Penelope, lowering her
+voice and speaking with great gentleness. "I think you ought to tell me
+all about the things that are hidden away in that bandbox under your
+bed."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Pauline, turning pale.
+
+"Why, I thought I'd like to go into your room and have a good look
+round."
+
+"But you have no right to do that sort of thing. It is intolerably mean
+of you. You had no right to go into my bedroom."
+
+"I often does what I has no right to do," said Penelope, by no means
+abashed. "I went in a-purpose 'cos you didn't tell me what you wished to
+tell me once, and I was burning to know. Do you understand what it is to
+be all curiosity so that your heart beats too quick and you gets fidgety?
+Well, I was in that sort of state, and I said to myself, 'I will know.'
+So I went into your room and poked about. I looked under the bed, and
+there was an old bandbox where you kept your summer hat afore Aunt Sophy
+came; and I pulled it out and opened it, and, oh! I see'd---- Paulie, I'd
+like to have 'em. You doesn't want 'em, 'cos you have hidden 'em, and I
+should like to have 'em."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, that pin-cushion for one thing--oh! it's a beauty--and that tidy.
+May I have the pin-cushion and the tidy, Paulie--the purple pin-cushion
+and the red tidy? May I?"
+
+"No."
+
+"May Aunt Sophy have them?"
+
+"Don't be silly."
+
+"May anybody have them?"
+
+"They're mine."
+
+"How did you get them?"
+
+"That's my affair."
+
+"You didn't get them from me, nor from any of the other girls--I can go
+round and ask them if you like, but I know you didn't--nor from father,
+nor from Aunt Sophy, nor from Betty, nor from John, nor from any of the
+new servants. Who gave them to you?"
+
+"That's my affair."
+
+"You won't tell?"
+
+"No."
+
+"May I tell Aunt Sophy about the bandbox chock-full of funny things
+pushed under the bed?"
+
+"If you do----"
+
+Penelope danced a few feet away. She then stood in front of her sister
+and began to sway her body backwards and forwards.
+
+"I see'd," she began, "such a funny thing!"
+
+"Penelope, you are too tormenting!"
+
+"I see'd such a very funny thing!"
+
+Miss Tredgold was seen approaching. Penelope looked round at her and then
+deliberately raised her voice.
+
+"I see'd such a very, very funny thing!"
+
+"What is it, Pen? Why are you teasing your sister?" said Miss Tredgold.
+
+"I aren't!" cried Penelope. "I are telling her something what she ought
+to know. It is about something I---- Shall I go on, Paulie?"
+
+"No; you make my head ache. Aunt Sophy, may I go in and lie down?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear. You look very pale. My poor child, you were
+over-excited yesterday. This won't do. Penelope, stop teasing your
+sister, and come for a walk with me. Pauline, go and lie down until
+dinner-time."
+
+Pauline went slowly in the direction of the house, but fear dogged her
+footsteps. What did Penelope know, and what did she not know?
+
+Meanwhile Miss Tredgold took the little girl's hand and began to pace up
+and down.
+
+"I have a great deal to correct in you, Pen," she said. "You are always
+spying and prying. That is not a nice character for a child."
+
+"I can be useful if I spy and pry," said Penelope.
+
+"My dear, unless you wish to become a female detective, you will be a
+much greater nuisance than anything else if you go on making mysteries
+about nothing. I saw that you were tormenting dear little Pauline just
+now. The child is very nervous. If she is not stronger soon I shall take
+her to the seaside. She certainly needs a change."
+
+"And me, too?" said Penelope. "I want change awful bad."
+
+"Not a bit of you. I never saw a more ruddy, healthy-looking little girl
+in the whole course of my life."
+
+"I wonder what I could do to be paled down," thought Penelope to herself;
+but she did not speak her thought aloud. "I mustn't tell Aunt Sophy, that
+is plain. I must keep all I know about Paulie dark for the present.
+There's an awful lot. There's about the thimble, and--yes, I did see them
+all three. I'm glad I saw them. I won't tell now, for I'd only be
+punished; but if I don't tell, and pretend I'm going to, Paulie will have
+to pay me to keep silent. That will be fun."
+
+The days passed, and Pauline continued to look pale, and Miss Tredgold
+became almost unreasonably anxious about her. Notwithstanding Verena's
+assurance that Pauline had the sort of complexion that often looked white
+in summer, the good lady was not reassured. There was something more than
+ordinary weakness and pallor about the child. There was an expression in
+her eyes which kept her kind aunt awake at night.
+
+Now this most excellent woman had never yet allowed the grass to grow
+under her feet. She was quick and decisive in all her movements. She was
+the sort of person who on the field of battle would have gone straight to
+the front. In the hour of danger she had never been known to lose her
+head. She therefore lost no time in making arrangements to take Verena
+and Pauline to the seaside. Accordingly she wrote to a landlady she
+happened to know, and engaged some remarkably nice rooms at Easterhaze on
+the south coast. Verena and Pauline were told of her plans exactly a week
+after the birthday. Pauline had been having bad dreams; she had been
+haunted by many things. The look of relief on her face, therefore, when
+Miss Tredgold told her that they were to pack their things that day, and
+that she, Verena, and herself would start for Easterhaze at an early hour
+on the following morning, was almost beyond words.
+
+"Why is you giving Pauline this great big treat?" asked Penelope.
+
+"Little girls should be seen and not heard," was Miss Tredgold's remark.
+
+"But this little girl wants to be heard," replied the incorrigible child.
+"'Cos she isn't very strong, and 'cos her face is palefied."
+
+"There is no such word as palefied, Penelope."
+
+"I made it. It suits me," said Penelope.
+
+"Pauline's cheeks are rather too pale," answered Miss Tredgold.
+
+She did not reprove Penelope, for in spite of herself she sometimes found
+a smile coming to her face at the child's extraordinary remarks.
+
+Presently Penelope slipped away. She went thoughtfully across the lawn.
+Her head was hanging, and her whole stout little figure testified to the
+fact that she was meditating.
+
+"Off to the sea!" she muttered softly to herself. "Off to the big briny
+waves, to the wadings, to the sand castles, to the shrimps, to the
+hurdy-gurdies, and all 'cos she's palefied. I wish I could be paled."
+
+She ran into the house, rushed through the almost deserted nursery, and
+startled nurse out of her seven senses with a wild whoop.
+
+"Nursey, how can I be paled down?"
+
+"Nonsense, child! Don't talk rubbish."
+
+"Am I pale, nursey, or am I a rosy sort of little girl?"
+
+"You are a sunburnt, healthy-looking little child, with no beauty to fash
+about," was nurse's blunt response.
+
+"Am I healthy-looking?"
+
+"Of course you are, Miss Pen. Be thankful to the Almighty for it, and
+don't worry me."
+
+Pen stuck out her tongue, made a hideous face at nurse, and darted from
+the room. She stood in the passage for a minute or two reflecting, then
+she slipped round and went in the direction of Pauline's bedroom.
+
+The bandbox chock-full of those vulgar presents had been pushed into the
+back part of a dark cupboard which stood in the little girl's room.
+Penelope knew all about that. She opened the cupboard, disappeared into
+its shadows, and then returned with an orange-colored tidy and a
+chocolate-red pin-cushion. Having made a bag of the front of her frock,
+she slipped the pin-cushion and tidy into it, and ran off to the kitchen.
+Aunt Sophia visited the kitchen each morning, but Pen knew that the hour
+of her daily visit had not yet arrived. Betty was there, surreptitiously
+reading a copy of the _Faithful Friend_. She started when Pen darted into
+her domain.
+
+"Now what is it, Miss Penelope? For goodness' sake, miss, get out of
+this. Your aunt would be flabbergasted to see you here."
+
+For response Pen planted down in front of Betty the orange-colored tidy
+and the chocolate-red pin-cushion.
+
+"Here's some things," she said. "Here's two nice things for a nice body.
+What will that nice body give for these nice things?"
+
+"My word!" said Betty, "they're natty."
+
+She took up the pin-cushion and examined it all over. She then laid it
+down again. She next took up the tidy, turned it from side to side, and
+placed it, with a sigh of distinct desire, beside the pin-cushion.
+
+"Them's my taste," she said. "I like those sort of fixed colors. I can't
+abide the wishy-washy tastes of the present day."
+
+"They's quite beautiful, ain't they?" said Pen. "I'll give them to you if
+you will----"
+
+"You will give them to me?" said Betty. "But where did you get them
+from?"
+
+"That don't matter a bit. Don't you ask any questions and you will hear
+no lies. I will give them to you, and nobody and nothing shall ever take
+them from you again, if you do something for me."
+
+"What's that, Miss Pen?"
+
+"Will you, Betty--will you? And will you be awful quick about it."
+
+"I should like to have them," said Betty. "There's a friend of mine going
+to commit marriage, and that tidy would suit her down to the ground.
+She'd like it beyond anything. But, all the same, I don't hold with young
+ladies forcing their way into my kitchen; it's not haristocratic."
+
+"Never mind that ugly word. Will you do what I want?"
+
+"What is it, Miss Pen?"
+
+"Palefy me. Make me sort of refined. Take the color out of me. Bleach
+me--that's it. I want to go to the seaside. Pale people go; rosy people
+don't. I want to be awful pale by to-night. How can it be done? It's more
+genteel to be pale."
+
+"It is that," said Betty, looking at the rosy Penelope with critical
+eyes. "I have often fretted over my own color; it's mostly fixed in the
+nose, too. But I don't know any way to get rid of it."
+
+"Don't you?" said Penelope.
+
+Quick as thought she snatched up the pin-cushion and tidy.
+
+"You don't have these," she said. "Your friend what's going to be married
+won't have this tidy. If you can't take fixed colors out of me, you don't
+have fixed colors for your bedroom, so there!"
+
+"You are awful quick and smart, miss, and I have heard tell that vinegar
+does it."
+
+"Vinegar?"
+
+"I have heard tell, but I have never tried it. You drink it three times a
+day, a wine-glass at a time. It's horrid nasty stuff, but if you want to
+change your complexion you must put up with some sort of inconvenience."
+
+"Suppose, Betty, you and me both drink it. Your nose might get white, and
+I might go to the seaside."
+
+"No, miss, I'm not tempted to interfere with nature. I've got good
+'ealth, and I'll keep it without no vinegar."
+
+"But will you give me some? You shall have the pin-cushion and the tidy
+if you do."
+
+"'Arriet would like that tidy," contemplated Betty, looking with round
+eyes at the hideous ornament.
+
+"You sneak round to the boot-house, and I'll have it ready for you," she
+said. "Come at eleven, come again at half-past three, and come at seven
+in the evening."
+
+This was arranged, and Pen, faithfully to the minute, did make her
+appearance in the boot-house. She drank off her first glass of vinegar
+with a wry face; but after it was swallowed she began to feel intensely
+good and pleased with herself.
+
+"Will it pale me in an hour?" was her thought.
+
+She ran upstairs, found a tiny square of looking-glass, concealed it in
+her pocket, and came down again. During the remainder of the day she
+might have been observed at intervals sneaking away by herself, and had
+any one followed her, that person would have seen her taking the
+looking-glass from her pocket and carefully examining her cheeks.
+
+Alas! the vinegar had only produced a slight feeling of discomfort; it
+had not taken any of the bloom out of the firm, fat cheeks.
+
+"It's horrid, and it's not doing it," thought the child. "I wish I hadn't
+gived her that tidy and that pin-cushion. But I will go on somehow till
+the color is out. They will send for me when they hear that I'm bad.
+Perhaps I'll look bad to-night."
+
+But Pen's "perhapses" were knocked on the head, for Miss Tredgold made a
+sudden and most startling announcement.
+
+"Why wait for the morning?" she exclaimed. "We are all packed and ready.
+We can easily get to Easterhaze by a late train to-night."
+
+Accordingly, by a late train that evening Miss Tredgold, Verena, and
+Pauline departed. They drove to Lyndhurst Road, and presently found
+themselves in a first-class carriage being carried rapidly away.
+
+"I am glad I thought of it," said Miss Tredgold, turning to the two
+girls. "It is true we shall arrive late, but Miss Pinchin will have
+things ready, as she will have received my telegram. We shall sleep at
+our new quarters in peace and comfort, and be ready to enjoy ourselves in
+the morning."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+GLENGARRY CAPS.
+
+
+Penelope drank her vinegar three times a day. She applied herself to this
+supposed remedy with a perseverance and good faith worthy of a better
+cause. This state of things continued until on a certain night she was
+seized with acute pain, and awoke shrieking out the startling words,
+"Vinegar! vinegar!" Nurse, who was not in the plot, thought the child was
+raving. She scolded Penelope more than pitied her, administered a strong
+dose, and, in short, treated her as rather a naughty invalid.
+
+"It's green apples that has done it," said nurse, shaking her head
+solemnly, and looking as if she thought Penelope ought certainly to
+return to her nursery thraldom.
+
+"I mustn't take so much vinegar," thought the little girl; "but I do hope
+that being so ill, and taking the horrid medicine, and being scolded by
+the nurse will have made me a bit pale."
+
+She doubtless hoped also that her illness would be reported to Miss
+Tredgold, who would send for her in double-quick time; but as Miss
+Tredgold was not told, and no one took any notice of Pen's fit of
+indigestion, she was forced to try other means to accomplish her darling
+desire--for go to the seaside she was determined she would. Of late she
+had been reading all the books she could find relating to the sea. She
+devoted herself to the subject of shells and seaweeds, and always talked
+with admiration of those naughty children who got into mischief on the
+sands.
+
+"Lots of them get drownded," she was heard to say to Adelaide. "It is
+quite, quite common to be washed up a drownded person by the big waves."
+
+Adelaide did not believe it, but Penelope stuck to her own opinion, and
+whenever she found one of her sisters alone and ready to listen to her,
+her one invariable remark was:
+
+"Tell me about the sea."
+
+Once it darted into her erratic little head that she would run away, walk
+miles and miles, sleep close to the hedges at night, receive drinks of
+milk from good-natured cottagers, and finally appear a dusty,
+travel-stained, very sick little girl at Aunt Sophia's lodgings at
+Easterhaze. But the difficulties in the way of such an undertaking were
+beyond even Pen's heroic spirit. Notwithstanding her vinegar and her
+suffering, she was still rosy--indeed, her cheeks seemed to get plumper
+and rounder than ever. She hated to think of the vinegar she had taken in
+vain; she hated to remember Betty and the tidy and pin-cushion she had
+given her.
+
+Meanwhile the days passed quickly and the invitation she pined for did
+not come. What was to be done? Suddenly it occurred to her that, if she
+could only become possessed of certain facts which she now suspected, she
+might be able to fulfil her own darling desire. For Pen knew more than
+the other girls supposed. She was very angry with Pauline for not
+confiding in her on Pauline's birthday, and at night she had managed to
+keep awake, and had risen softly from her cot and stood in her white
+night-dress by the window; and from there she had seen three little
+figures creeping side by side across the lawn--three well-known little
+figures. She had very nearly shouted after them; she had very nearly
+pursued them. But all she really did was to creep back into bed and say
+to herself in a tone of satisfaction:
+
+"Now I knows. Now I will get lots of pennies out of Paulie."
+
+She dropped into the sleep of a happy child almost as she muttered the
+last words, but in the morning she had not forgotten what she had seen.
+
+On a certain day shortly after Penelope had recovered from her very
+severe fit of indigestion, she was playing on the lawn, making herself,
+as was her wont, very troublesome, when Briar, looking up from her new
+story-book, said in a discontented voice:
+
+"I do wish you would go away, Penelope. You worry me awfully."
+
+Penelope, instead of going away, went and stood in front of her sister.
+
+"Does I?" she said. "Then I am glad."
+
+"You really are a horrid child, Pen. Patty and Adelaide, can you
+understand why Pen is such a disagreeable child?"
+
+"She is quite the most extraordinary child I ever heard of in the whole
+course of my life," said Adelaide. "The other night, when she woke up
+with a pain in her little tum-tum, she shouted, 'Vinegar! vinegar!' She
+must really have been going off her poor little head."
+
+"No, I wasn't," said Penelope, who turned scarlet and then white. "It was
+vinegar--real vinegar. It was to pale me."
+
+"Oh, don't talk to her!" said Patty. "She is too silly for anything. Go
+away, baby, and play with sister Marjorie, and don't talk any more
+rubbish."
+
+"You call me baby?" said Penelope, coming close to the last speaker, and
+standing with her arms akimbo. "You call me baby? Then I will ask you a
+question. Who were the people that walked across the lawn on the night of
+Paulie's birthday? Who was the three peoples who walked holding each
+other's hands?--little peoples with short skirts--little peoples about
+the size of you, maybe; and about the size of Briar, maybe; and about the
+size of Paulie, maybe. Who was they? You answer me that. They wasn't
+ghostses, was they?"
+
+Briar turned pale; Patty glanced at her. Adelaide, who had watchful blue
+eyes, turned and looked from one sister to the other.
+
+"You are talking rubbish," said Briar. "Go and play."
+
+"Who was they?" repeated Pen.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Am I baby or big wise girl?"
+
+"Oh, you are an infant Solomon! I don't know who the people were."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+Penelope looked at Briar with a sigh of disappointment. Then she
+whispered to herself:
+
+"It's 'cos of Adelaide. Course they don't want to say anything when
+Addy's there."
+
+She strolled away.
+
+"What was the child talking about?" asked Adelaide.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," replied Briar. "She's the rummiest little thing
+that ever walked. But there's no good in taking any notice of what she
+says."
+
+"Of course no one does," answered Adelaide. "But I do wonder if ghosts
+ever walk across the lawn. Do you believe in ghosts, Briar?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Briar. "No girl in her senses does."
+
+"I don't know at all as to that," replied Adelaide. "There was a girl
+that came to stay with Nancy King last year; her name was Freda Noell.
+She believed in ghosts. She said she had once been in a haunted house.
+What is it, Briar? Why do you shrug your shoulders?"
+
+"I don't know," said Briar. "I don't want to talk about ghosts. I don't
+believe in them."
+
+She got up and crossed the lawn. The next moment Pen had tucked her hand
+inside her arm.
+
+"You needn't keep it from me," she said in a whisper. "It was you and
+Patty and Paulie. I knew who you were, 'cos the moon shone on Patty's
+Glengarry cap. You needn't deny it."
+
+"I do deny it. I didn't go," said Briar.
+
+She felt her heart smite her as she told this lie. She walked quickly.
+
+"Do leave me," she said. "You are a little girl that doesn't at all know
+her own place."
+
+"But I do know it," said Penelope. "My place is at the seaside. I want to
+go there. I'm 'termined to go there. If I don't go one way I'll go
+another. Why should Paulie, what is the naughtiest of girls, have all the
+fun? I don't mind Renny being there so much. And why should I, what is
+the very best of girls, be kept stuck here with only nursey and you
+childrens to bother me? I am going. I'm 'termined."
+
+She marched away. Patty came up.
+
+"Patty," said Briar, "I've done it."
+
+"What?" asked Patty.
+
+"I've told a lie about it. I said we weren't on the lawn at all. I told
+her she was talking nonsense."
+
+"Couldn't you have got out of it by any other way?" asked Patty. "It
+doesn't seem right to tell lies."
+
+"I could with any one but Pen; but Pen can see through a brick wall. I
+had to tell it, and very plump, too, where Pen was in the question."
+
+"Well, it makes me feel horrid," said Patty. "I am sorry we went. I think
+we did awfully wrong."
+
+"We did it for Paulie. We'd do more than that for her," replied Briar.
+
+"I suppose so. I certainly love Paulie very much," answered Patty.
+
+"And, Patty," continued Briar, "having told such a great black lie to
+help her, we must go through with it. Pen means mischief. She's the sort
+of child who would do anything to gain anything. She wants to go to the
+seaside, and she wouldn't mind whom she got into trouble if it suited her
+own ends. We must remember she means mischief, and if she talks again
+about three figures on the lawn, you and I have got to stick to it that
+we didn't go. Do you understand?"
+
+"I do, and I consider it awful," said Patty.
+
+She did not add any more, but went slowly into the house. Presently,
+feeling much depressed, she sought nurse's society. Nurse was turning
+some of the girls' skirts. She was a good needlewoman, and had clung to
+the house of Dale through many adverse circumstances. She was enjoying
+herself at present, and used often to say that it resembled the time of
+the fat kine in Egypt.
+
+"Ah, Miss Patty!" she cried. "It's glad I am to see you, darling."
+
+"Can I do anything for you, nursey?" asked Patty.
+
+"Of course you can, dear. You can help me to unpick this frock. I am
+cutting it down to fit Miss Pen. It will make a very neat frock for her,
+and it seems unfair that dear Miss Tredgold should be at more expense
+than is necessary."
+
+"Why," asked Patty, with a surprised look, "doesn't father pay for the
+things?"
+
+"Mr. Dale!" cried nurse in a tone of wrath, "I'd like to see him. It's
+not that he wouldn't, and for all I can tell he may have the money; but,
+bless you, darling! he'd forget it. He'd forget that there was such a
+thing as dress wanted in all the world; and servants and food, and the
+different things that all well-managed houses must have, couldn't lie on
+his memory while you were counting twenty. Do you suppose if that dear,
+blessed lady didn't put her hand into her pocket in the way she does that
+you'd be having the right good time you are now having, and the nice
+clothes, and the good education, and the pretty ponies coming next week?
+And Miss Pauline, just because she's a bit pale, taken to the seaside?
+Not a bit of it, my dear Miss Patty. It's thankful you ought to be to the
+Providence that put it into your aunt's head to act as she has done. Ah!
+if my dear mistress was living she would bless her dear sister."
+
+"Did you know mother before she was married?" asked Patty, taking up a
+skirt and the pair of sharp scissors which nurse provided her with, and
+sitting down happily to her task.
+
+"Didn't I live with her when she was Miss Tredgold?" asked nurse. "And
+didn't I over and over again help Miss Sophia out of scrapes? Oh, she was
+a wild young lady!"
+
+"You don't mean to tell me that Aunt Sophy ever did anything wrong?"
+
+"Nothing mean or shameful; but for temper and for spirit and for dash and
+for go there wasn't her like. Not a horse in the land was wild enough to
+please her. She'd ride bareback on any creature you gave her to mount,
+and never come to grief, neither. She broke horses that trainers couldn't
+touch. She had a way with her that they couldn't resist. Just a pat of
+her hand on their necks and they'd be quiet and shiver all over as though
+they were too delighted for anything. Oh, she did follow the hounds! My
+word! and she was admired, too. She was a young lady in a thousand. And
+as for wanting to have her own way, she was for all the world like our
+Miss Pauline. It strikes me those two have very much in common, and that
+is why Miss Tredgold has taken such a fancy to your sister."
+
+"Do you think she has?" asked Patty.
+
+"Do I think it?" cried nurse. "For goodness' sake, Miss Patty, don't cut
+the material. Do look where you are putting the scissors. Do I think it,
+miss? I know it. Miss Marjorie, sweet pet, you shall thread these
+daisies. You shall make a pretty chain of them to put around your neck.
+There's my little precious."
+
+Fat, lovely, little Marjorie shrieked with delight when nurse put a
+coarse needle, to which was attached an equally coarse piece of cotton,
+and a basket of daisies before her. Marjorie tried to thread daisies, and
+uttered little cries of happiness, while Patty and nurse talked together.
+
+"Miss Tredgold was a wonderful young lady, so handsome and high-spirited.
+But if she didn't always obey, she never did anything mean or underhand.
+Everybody loved her; and your poor mother was that took up with her that
+when my master proposed that they should marry, it was a good while
+before she'd consent--and all because she didn't want to part with Miss
+Sophy. She said that if Miss Sophy would consent to live with them she'd
+marry Mr. Dale at once, for she was very much attached to him. But Miss
+Sophy put down her foot. 'Live with a married couple!' she cried. 'Why,
+I'd rather die.' Well, my dear, there were words and tears and groans;
+but at last Miss Sophy took the bit between her teeth, and went off to an
+old relative, a certain Miss Barberry, in Scotland, and arranged to live
+with her and look after her. And your mother married; and when Miss
+Barberry died she left Miss Sophy every penny she possessed, and Miss
+Sophy is very rich now; and well she deserves it. Dear, dear! I seem to
+see Miss Sophia over again in our Miss Pauline. She was very comical, and
+so high-spirited and wild, although she'd never do an underhand thing."
+
+"Never?" asked Patty, with a sigh.
+
+"Of course not. What do you take her for? Noble ladies what is ladies
+don't do mean sort of things."
+
+Patty sighed again.
+
+"What are you sighing for, Miss Patty? I hate to hear young ladies giving
+way to their feelings in that sort of fashion."
+
+"I was only thinking that you compared Aunt Sophy to Pauline."
+
+"And why shouldn't I? Is it you who want to belittle your sister? Miss
+Pauline is as high-spirited as ever young lady was, but neither would she
+do a mean or underhand thing."
+
+Patty suppressed her next sigh. For a long time she did not speak.
+
+"Nurse," she said when she next broke silence, "did you in the whole
+course of your life ever tell a lie?"
+
+"My word!" cried nurse--"Miss Marjorie, you'll prick your little fingers
+if you hold the needle like that. This way, lovey. Did I ever tell a lie,
+Miss Patty? Goodness gracious me! Well, to be sure, perhaps I told a bit
+of a tarradiddle when I was a small child; but an out-and-out lie--never,
+thank the Almighty!"
+
+"But what is the difference between a lie and a tarradiddle?"
+
+"Oh, Miss Patty, there's a deal of difference. A tarradiddle is what you
+say when you are, so to speak, took by surprise. It isn't a lie out and
+out; it's the truth concealed, I call it. Sometimes it is a mere
+exaggeration. You say a person is very, very cross when maybe that person
+is hardly cross at all. I can't quite explain, miss; I suppose there's
+scarcely any one who hasn't been guilty of a tarradiddle; but a lie--a
+thought-out lie--never."
+
+"Is a lie so very awful?" asked Patty.
+
+"Awful!" repeated nurse.
+
+She rose solemnly from her seat, went up to Patty, and put her hand under
+her chin.
+
+"Don't you ever catch me a-seeing you a-doing of it," she said. "I
+wouldn't own one of you Dales if you told falsehoods. A black lie the
+Bible speaks of as a thing that ain't lightly forgiven. But, of course,
+you have never told a lie. Oh, my dear, sweet young lady, you quite
+frightened me! To think that one of my children could be guilty of a sin
+like that!"
+
+Patty made no answer.
+
+"I am tired of work," she said; "I am going out."
+
+She flung down the skirt that she was helping to unpick and let the
+scissors fall to the ground.
+
+"You might put your work tidily away, Miss Patty. You aren't half as
+useful and helpful as you ought to be."
+
+Patty laid the skirt on a chair and slipped away. Nurse continued her
+occupation.
+
+"I wonder what the child meant," she thought. "She looked queer when she
+spoke. But there! with all their faults--and goodness knows they've
+plenty--they're straight, every one of them. A crooked-minded Dale or a
+crooked-minded Tredgold would be a person unheard of. Oh, yes, they're
+straight enough, that's a blessing."
+
+Meanwhile Patty sought her sister.
+
+"It's worse than I thought," she remarked. "It's not even a tarradiddle."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Briar.
+
+"The lie you told--the lie I am to help you to hide. It's black as ink,
+and God is very angry with little girls who tell lies. He scarcely can
+forgive lies. I was talking to nurse, and she explained."
+
+"You don't mean to say that you told her about Pauline?"
+
+"No," answered Patty in a voice of scorn. "I am not quite as bad as that.
+But she was speaking about Aunt Sophy and how wild she used to be, and
+she compared her to Paulie, and said that Aunt Sophy never did anything
+mean or underhand, and that Paulie never did either. I felt as if I could
+jump, for we know, Briar, what Paulie has done."
+
+"Yes, we know," answered Briar. "And you and I have done very wrong, too.
+But there is no help for it now, Patty. We can't go back."
+
+"It certainly does seem awful to think of growing up wicked," said Patty.
+"I don't like it."
+
+"Don't let's talk about it," said Briar. "We'll have to suffer some time,
+but perhaps not yet. Do you know that the apples are getting ripe, and
+John wants us to help him to pick them? Oh! and the mulberry-tree, too,
+is a mass of fruit. What do you say to climbing the apple-trees and
+shaking down the apples?"
+
+"Say!" cried Patty. "Delicious!"
+
+Without more words the little girls ran off to the orchard, and nurse's
+remarks with regard to the difference between lies and tarradiddles were
+forgotten for the time being.
+
+The days went on, but Pen did not forget. There came a morning when, a
+letter having arrived from Aunt Sophy saying that Pauline was much
+better--in fact, quite herself again--and that she and both the girls
+would be home in about a week, the little girl was rendered desperate.
+
+"I has no time to lose," she said to herself. "I am 'termined to go; I am
+going some fashion or t'other."
+
+On this occasion she took a bolder step than she had yet attempted. She
+resolved to walk alone the entire distance between The Dales and The
+Hollies, which was about three miles. Pen was the sort of child who was
+never troubled by physical fear. She also knew the Forest very well. She
+had but to slip away; none of her sisters would miss her. Or if nurse
+wondered where she was, she would conclude that Pen was keeping her elder
+sisters company. If the girls wondered, they would think she was with
+nurse. Altogether the feat was easy of accomplishment, and the naughty
+child determined to go. She started off an hour after breakfast, opened
+the wicket-gate, let herself out, and began to walk quickly. These were
+the days of early autumn, when the Forest was looking its best; the trees
+were beginning to put on their regal dresses of crimson and brown and
+gold. Already the rich red leaves were dropping to the ground. The
+bracken was withering to a golden brown, and the heather was a deep
+purple. Everywhere, too, little bluebells sprang up, looking as if they
+were making fairy music. There were squirrels, too, darting from bough to
+bough of the beech-trees; and rabbits innumerable, with white-tipped
+tails, disappearing into their various holes. A walk in the Forest on
+this special day was the sort to fascinate some children, but Pen cared
+for none of these things. Her way lay straight before her; her object was
+never for a moment forgotten. She meant to reach the sea by some means or
+other.
+
+She was a somewhat tired and hot little person when at last she appeared
+outside the broad gravel walk that led to The Hollies; and it so happened
+that when she entered this walk her courage was put to a severe test, for
+Lurcher, the farmer's bulldog, happened to be loose. As a rule he was
+kept tied up. Now, Lurcher was a very discerning person. He attacked
+beggars in a most ferocious manner, but as to ladies and gentlemen a
+fierce bout of barking was sufficient. Pen, however, looked like neither
+a beggar nor a lady or gentleman. Lurcher did not know what to make of
+Pen. Some one so small and so untidy could scarcely be a visitor. She was
+much too short and much too stout, and her little legs were bleeding from
+the thorny brambles that she had come through during her journey.
+Accordingly Lurcher, with a low growl and a swift bound, pinned poor
+little Pen by the skirt of her short frock. He was sufficiently a
+gentleman not to hurt her, but he had not the least idea of letting her
+go. He pinned her even more firmly when she moved an inch away from him,
+and when she raised her voice he growled. He not only growled, but he
+shook her dress fiercely. Already she felt it snap from its waistband
+under Lurcher's terrible teeth. She was a very brave child, but her
+present predicament was almost more than she could bear. How long it
+lasted no one quite knew. Then there came a stride across the gravel, a
+shout from Farmer King, and Pen was transferred from the ground into his
+sheltering arms.
+
+"You poor little thing!" he said. "You poor little bit of a lass! Now,
+you don't tell me you are one of the Dales? You have their eyes--black as
+black most of them are. Are you a Dale?"
+
+"Course I am," answered Penelope. "I'm Penelope Dale. He's a shocking bad
+dog. I never thought I could be frightened. I was 'termined to come, but
+I never thought you kept such a shocking, awful dog as that."
+
+"I am more sorry than I can say, my little dear. I wonder now who let the
+brute out. He'll catch it from me, whoever he is. Here, Nancy! Hullo,
+Nancy! Come along here, quick!"
+
+Nancy, looking fresh and smiling, stepped out of the open French window.
+
+"Why," she said when she saw Pen, "wherever did you drop from?"
+
+Pen began to cry.
+
+"I wor 'termined to come," she said. "I wanted to see you most tur'ble
+bad."
+
+"Poor little thing!" said the farmer. "She's got a bit of a fright. What
+do you think, Nancy? Lurcher had little miss by her skirt. He'd pinned
+her, so to speak, and he wouldn't let go, not if she fainted; and she was
+that brave, little dear, that she didn't do anything but just stood
+still, with her face as white as death."
+
+"Wor I paled down?" said Pen. "Do tell me if I wor paled down a bit."
+
+"You were as white as death, you poor little pretty," said the farmer;
+and then he kissed the little girl on her broad forehead, and hurried off
+to expostulate with regard to Lurcher.
+
+Nancy took Pen into the house, and sat down in a cosy American
+rocking-chair with the little girl in her lap. She proceeded to gorge her
+with caramels and chocolates. Pen had never been so much fussed over
+before; and, truth, to tell, she had seldom enjoyed herself better.
+
+"I wor 'termined--'termined to come," she repeated several times. At last
+her sobs ceased altogether, and she cuddled up against Nancy and went to
+sleep in her arms.
+
+Nancy lifted her up and put her on the horse-hair sofa; she laid a rug
+over her, and then stooped and kissed her. Afterwards she went out and
+joined her father.
+
+"Whatever brought little miss here?" asked the farmer.
+
+"That's more than I can tell you, father."
+
+"And why don't the others come sometimes?" snapped Farmer King. "They
+none of 'em come, not even that pretty girl we made so much fuss over,
+giving her a gold locket and chain. Now, I'd like to find out, Nancy, my
+girl, if she has ever shown that locket and chain to her haristocratic
+aunt. Do you suppose the haristocratic lady has set eyes on it?"
+
+Nancy laughed.
+
+"I guess not," she said. "Paulie's a bit of a coward. She wants to know
+us and yet she don't. She wants to know us behind the aunt's back."
+
+"Left hand, not right hand," said the farmer. "I don't like that sort."
+
+"At any rate she can't come to us at present, father, for Miss Tredgold
+has taken her to the seaside."
+
+"That's it, is it?" said the farmer, his face clearing. "Then I suppose
+little miss has come with a message. What did missie say about your
+friend, Nancy?"
+
+"Nothing. She's asleep at present. I mean to let her have her sleep out,
+then give her some dinner, and drive her home in the dogcart."
+
+"Do as you like, Nance; only for mercy's sake don't make a fool of
+yourself over that family, for it strikes me forcibly they're becoming
+too grand for us."
+
+Nancy said nothing further. She returned to the house and sat down in the
+room where Penelope slept. Her work-basket was open. She was making a
+pretty new necktie for herself. Nancy was a very clever workwoman, and
+the necktie grew under her nimble fingers. Presently she dived into the
+bottom of the basket and took out a gold thimble with a sapphire top and
+turquoises round the rim. She slipped it on to the tip of her slender
+first finger.
+
+"I must send it back again," she said to herself. "I'd have done it
+before, but Pauline is away."
+
+Just then she was attracted by a sound on the sofa. She turned. Pen's big
+black eyes were wide open; she was bending forward and gazing at the
+thimble.
+
+"So you got it after all!" she said.
+
+"Oh, child, how you startled me! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, that's Aunty Sophy's thimble. I was to get a penny if I found it."
+
+Nancy was silent.
+
+"How did it get into your work-basket?" asked Pen.
+
+"I borrowed it from Paulie, and I'd have given it to her long ere this,
+but I heard she was away."
+
+"Give it to me," cried Penelope. Her voice quite shook in her eagerness.
+"Give it to me at once, and I will take it back to her."
+
+"I wish you would, Pen, I am sure; but you must be very careful not to
+lose it, for it is a real beauty. See, I will put it into this little
+box, and cover the box up."
+
+Penelope pressed close to Nancy. Nancy placed the thimble in the midst of
+some pink cotton-wool and looked at it affectionately; then she tied up
+the little box, put brown paper round it, tied string round that again,
+and then she held it out to Pen.
+
+"You are quite positive you won't lose it?" she said.
+
+"Positive. I has a big pocket, and no hole in it. See for yourself,
+there's no hole. Turn it out, will you?"
+
+Penelope's pocket proved to be quite safe, and Nancy, with a qualm at her
+heart which she could not account for, allowed the little girl to put the
+thimble therein.
+
+"Well, that is settled," she cried. "And now I want to know what you came
+for. You are going to have dinner with father and me after a bit."
+
+"No, I'm not," answered Pen. "I'm going home at once."
+
+"But why did you come? Did Pauline send me a message?"
+
+"No, she wouldn't."
+
+"Why not? I've done a great deal for her."
+
+"She's ongrateful," said Pen. "She didn't send no message. I 'spect
+she'll have forgot you when she comes back."
+
+Nancy's face flamed.
+
+"I can make it a little too hot for her if she does."
+
+"What's making a thing too hot?" asked Penelope.
+
+"Oh, making it so that you squirm and tingle and your heart goes
+pit-a-pat," replied Nancy. "There! I'm not going to talk any more. If you
+won't tell me why you came, I suppose you will come into the other room
+and have some dinner?"
+
+"I won't. I'm going home. As Paulie didn't send you a message, are you
+going to make it hot for her?"
+
+"That I am. Somebody will come here--somebody I know--to see somebody she
+knows; and there will be a begging and imploring, and somebody she knows
+will do nothing for somebody I know. Now, can you take that in?"
+
+"You are very funny," answered Penelope, "but I think I can. I'm glad,
+and I'm not glad, that I comed. I won't stay to dinner; I'm going
+straight away home this blessed minute."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+PEN VICTORIOUS.
+
+
+Penelope managed to reach home unattended. She was tired and draggled and
+dusty, and also very much scratched. Her sisters received her with whoops
+of astonishment and welcome. They had not missed her, it is true, but
+when they saw her coming sadly and sheepishly in at the wicket-gate they
+concluded that they had. Adelaide was the first to reach her.
+
+"Don't ask me any questions and you'll hear no lies," was Pen's remark.
+She waved her fat hand as she spoke. "I am going to nursey straight away.
+I has something I wants to say to nursey. Has the post gone? I want to
+catch the post immediate."
+
+"You are too queer for anything," said Adelaide; "but go your own way.
+You'll catch it for being out all by yourself in the woods."
+
+"I won't catch it, but there are others who will," replied Penelope. "And
+now keep out of my way. I want to find nursey."
+
+She marched in a most defiant and even queenly style towards the house;
+and the others, after laughing for a moment, returned to their various
+pursuits and forgot all about her.
+
+When nurse saw Penelope she uttered a groan.
+
+"There you come," she said. "You are a handful! You never turned up at
+dinner-time, although we looked for you everywhere. Now, where were you
+hiding?"
+
+"Never mind that, nursey. Get out your writing 'terials."
+
+"Now, whatever does the child mean? Sakes! you are scratched, and your
+nice new holland frock is all torn, and you are dusty and pale and
+trembling--as pale and trembling as can be."
+
+"Is it pale I am?" cried Penelope. "Is it? Is it? Nursey, I love you,
+love you, love you!"
+
+With a flop Penelope's fat arms were flung round nurse's neck; her hot
+little lips caressed nurse's cheeks.
+
+"Oh," she cried, "how much I love you! Get writing 'terials quick. Get
+pen and ink and paper, and sit down and write. I will tell you what to
+say. You must write this instant minute. It is the most 'portant thing in
+all the world. Write, and be quick. If you don't I'll go to Betty, and
+she'll do what I want her to do."
+
+"You needn't do that," cried nurse. "You are a queer child, and more
+trouble than you're worth, but when you are in a bit of a mess I'm not
+the one to refuse my aid. Who have I to write to?"
+
+"To my darlingest Aunt Sophy."
+
+"My word! What on earth have you got to say to her?"
+
+"Get 'terials and you'll know."
+
+Nurse complied somewhat unwillingly. She produced a portfolio, got out
+her ink-bottle and pen, dipped the pen in ink, and looked up at Penelope.
+
+"Go on, and be quick," she said. "I can't be fashed with the whims of
+children. What is it that you want to say?"
+
+"Write, 'Dear, darling Aunt Sophia.'"
+
+"You are too queer!"
+
+Nevertheless nurse put the words on the sheet of paper, and Pen proceeded
+to deliver herself quickly.
+
+"'I am paled down, and want change of air. My breaf is too quick. My legs
+is all tored with briers and things. I has got a prickly feeling in my
+froat, and I gets wet as water all over my hands and round my neck and my
+forehead. It's 'cos I'm weak, I 'spect.'"
+
+"Miss Penelope," said the nurse, "if those symptoms are correct, it is
+the doctor you want."
+
+"'I has a doubly-up pain in my tum-tum,'" proceeded Penelope, taking no
+notice of nurse's interruption. "'I shrieks in my sleep. I wants change
+of air. I am very poorly. Nursey is writing this, and she knows I am very
+poorly. I feel sort of as though I could cry. It's not only my body, it's
+my mind. I has got a weight on my mind. It's a secret, and you ought to
+know. Send for me quick, 'cos I want change of air.
+
+                                                                  Pen.'"
+
+"I never wrote a queerer letter," said nurse; "and from the looks of you
+there seems to be truth in it. You certainly don't look well."
+
+"You will send it, nursey?" asked Pen, trembling with excitement.
+
+"Yes, child; you have dictated it to me, and it shall go by the post.
+Whether Miss Tredgold will mind a word you say or not remains to be
+proved. Now leave me, and do for goodness' sake try not to run about
+wildly any more for to-day at least."
+
+Penelope left the room. She stooped slightly as she walked, and she
+staggered a little. When she got near the door she coughed. As she
+reached the passage she coughed more loudly.
+
+"It's my froat," she said in a very sad tone, and she crept down the
+passage, nurse watching her from the open door of the nursery.
+
+She did not guess that when Penelope turned the last corner she gave a
+sudden whoop, leapt nearly a foot into the air, and then darted out of
+the house as fast as she could.
+
+"I 'spect I's done it this time," thought Pen.
+
+Meanwhile in the nursery, after a moment's reflection, nurse added a
+postscript of her own to Pen's letter.
+
+"Miss Penelope is very queer, and don't look well at all."
+
+That letter was put in the post, and in due time received by Miss
+Tredgold.
+
+Penelope began to count the hours. She knew that no answer could come for
+some time after the letter was written. During the next day she went at
+intervals to visit Betty, and begged her for drinks of vinegar; and as
+she paid Betty by more and more presents out of Pauline's old bandbox,
+she found that individual quite amenable. After drinking the vinegar
+Penelope once again suffered from the "doubly-up pain in her tum-tum."
+She spoke of her agonies to the others, who pitied her a good deal, and
+Josephine even presented her with some very precious peppermints for the
+purpose of removing it. Towards evening she seemed better, and talked
+continually of the seaside and how she intended to enjoy herself there.
+And then she suggested that her sisters should come and help her to pack
+her things. The girls naturally asked why they were to do it, and she
+replied:
+
+"'Cos I'm going on a journey, and it's most 'portant. None of you are
+going, but I am."
+
+"You're not going on any journey," said Lucy. "You do talk rubbish."
+
+"What you bet?" asked Penelope, who saw an instant opportunity of making
+a little money.
+
+"Nothing," replied Lucy. "You are talking rubbish. Get out of my way. I'm
+very busy."
+
+Pen looked wildly around her. She was in such a state of suppressed
+excitement that she could stop at nothing. Her sisters were all close at
+hand. Patty and Briar were sitting as usual almost in each other's
+pockets. Adelaide, Josephine, Lucy, and Helen made a group apart. Pen
+thought carefully.
+
+"There's six of 'em," she said to herself. "I ought to make a little
+money by six of 'em. Look here!" she called out. "You all say I'm not
+going on a journey to-morrow; I say I am. Will you give me a penny each
+if I go? Is it done? Is it truly done? If I don't go I'll give you a
+penny each."
+
+"But you haven't got any pence to give us."
+
+"I will borrow from nursey. I know she'll lend me the money. But I shan't
+need it, for I am going. Will you give me a penny each if I go?"
+
+"Oh, yes, if you want it," said Adelaide.
+
+"But remember," continued Lucy, "we shall keep you to your part of the
+bargain if you don't go."
+
+"All right," cried Pen; and, having received the promise, she walked
+sedately across the grass.
+
+"Six pennies! I'll find them useful at the seaside," she thought.
+"There's nothing like having a little money of your own. It buys
+sweetmeats and cakes. I'll tell Aunt Sophy that my froat is so sore, and
+that I must have constant sweetmeats. Six pennies will get a lot."
+
+She walked more slowly. She was in reality in excellent health; even the
+vinegar was not doing her much harm.
+
+"How hungry I'll be when I get to the seaside!" she said to herself.
+"I'll swell out and get very red and very fat. My body will be 'normous.
+Oh, there's father!"
+
+Mr. Dale was seated near his window. His head was bent as usual over his
+work.
+
+"Father could give me something," thought Pen. "He could and he ought.
+I'll ask him. Dad!" she called.
+
+Mr. Dale did not answer.
+
+"Dad!" called Pen again.
+
+He looked up with a fretful expression.
+
+"Go away, my dear," he said. "I am particularly busy."
+
+"I will if you'll give me sixpence."
+
+"Go away."
+
+Pen's father bent again over his book. He forgot Penelope.
+
+"He's sure to give me sixpence if I worrit him long enough," thought the
+naughty little girl.
+
+She stood close to the window. Suddenly it occurred to her that if she
+drew down the blind, which she could easily do by pushing her hand inside
+the window and then planting her fat little person on the window-sill,
+she would cause a shadow to come before the light on her father's page.
+
+"That will make him look up," she thought. "When he does I'll ask him
+again for sixpence. I'll tell him I won't go away till I get it."
+
+She sat down on the window-sill, cleverly manipulating the blind, and Mr.
+Dale found an unpleasant darkness steal over his page.
+
+"Draw up that blind and go away, Penelope," he said. "Do you hear? Go
+away."
+
+"I will 'mediately you give me sixpence. I will draw up the blind and
+I'll go away," said Pen.
+
+"I will give you nothing. You are an extremely naughty little girl."
+
+Penelope sat on. Mr. Dale tried to read in the darkening light. Presently
+he heard a sniff. The sniff grew louder.
+
+"My froat," said Penelope.
+
+He glanced towards her. She was sitting huddled up; her back looked very
+round.
+
+"Do go away, child. What is wrong?"
+
+"My froat. I want something to moisten it. It is so dry, it hurts me."
+
+"Go and get a drink of water."
+
+"Oh, my froat! Oh, my tum-tum! Oh, my froat!" said Penelope again.
+
+Mr. Dale rose from his seat at last.
+
+"I never was so worried in my life," he said. "What is it, child? Out
+with it. What is wrong?"
+
+Penelope managed to raise eyes brimful of tears to his face.
+
+"If you knowed that your own little girl was suffering from bad froat and
+doubly-up tum-tum, and that sixpence would make her well--quite, really,
+truly well--wouldn't you give it to her?" said Penelope.
+
+"How can sixpence make you well? If you really have a sore throat and a
+pain we ought to send for the doctor."
+
+"Sixpence is much cheaper than the doctor," said Penelope. "Sixpence will
+do it."
+
+"How?"
+
+"It will buy peppermints."
+
+"Well, then, here it is, child. Take it and be off."
+
+Penelope snatched it. Her face grew cheerful. She shot up the blind with
+a deft movement. She jumped from her seat on the window-ledge. She was no
+longer doubled up.
+
+"Thank you, dad," she said. "Thank you--thank you."
+
+She rushed away.
+
+"I'll have another sixpence to-morrow," she thought. "That's a whole
+beautiful shilling. I will do fine when I am at the seaside."
+
+Penelope could scarcely sleep that night. She got up early the next
+morning. She was determined to stand at the gate and watch for the
+postman. The letters usually arrived about eight o'clock. The postman
+hove in sight, and Pen rushed to meet him.
+
+"Have you letters--a letter for me?" she asked.
+
+"No, Miss Penelope, but there is one for your nurse."
+
+"It is from Easterhaze," said the child. "Thank you--thank you, posty."
+
+She snatched the first letter away from the old man and darted away with
+it. Into the nursery she rushed.
+
+"Here it is, nursey. Open it, quick! I am to go; I know I am."
+
+Nurse did open the letter. It was from Miss Tredgold, and it ran as
+follows:
+
+"DEAR NURSE: Penelope is evidently too much for you. I intend to remain
+two or three days longer in this pleasant place, so do not expect me home
+next week. I shall have Penelope here, so send her to me by the first
+train that leaves Lyndhurst Road to-morrow. Take her to the station and
+put her into the charge of the guard. She had better travel first-class.
+If you see any nice, quiet-looking lady in the carriage, put Penelope
+into her charge. I enclose a postal order for expenses. Wire to me by
+what train to expect the child."
+
+The letter ended with one or two more directions, but to these Pen
+scarcely listened. Her face was pale with joy. She had worked hard; she
+had plotted much; she had succeeded.
+
+"I feel as though I'd like to be really quite good," was her first
+thought.
+
+Nurse expected that she would be nearly mad with glee; but she left the
+nursery quietly. She went downstairs quietly. Her sisters were at
+breakfast. She entered the room and stood before them.
+
+"Pennies, please," she said.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Briar, who was pouring out coffee.
+
+"Pennies from all of you, quick."
+
+Josephine put on a supercilious face; Lucy sniffed; Helen and Adelaide
+went on with their breakfast as though nothing had happened.
+
+Penelope came a little nearer.
+
+"Must I speak up?" she said. "Must I ask again? Is you all deaf? I am
+going to Easterhaze to Aunt Sophy. Darling aunty can't do without me. She
+has sent for me as she wants me so badly. I'm going by the first train. I
+am much the most 'portant person in the house, and I's won my bet. I like
+betting. A penny from you all if you please."
+
+The girls were excited and amazed at Pen's news.
+
+"You are clever," said Briar. "How in the world did you get her to do
+it?"
+
+"Tum-tum and sore froat," said Penelope bluntly. "Oh! and vinegar and
+paling down."
+
+"You are really such an incomprehensible child that I am glad Aunt Sophy
+is going to manage you," was Patty's remark. "Here are your pence. Shall
+we help you to pack your things?"
+
+"They are a'most packed. I did some myself last night. I took your new
+little trunk, Briar. I don't 'uppose you'll mind."
+
+Briar did mind, but she knew it was useless to expostulate.
+
+By eleven o'clock Penelope was off to Lyndhurst Road station. By twelve
+o'clock she was in charge of a red-faced old lady. In five minutes' time
+she was _en route_ for Easterhaze. The old lady, whose name was Mrs.
+Hungerford, began by considering Pen a plain and ordinary child; but she
+soon had reason to change her views, for Pen was not exactly plain, and
+was certainly by no means ordinary. She stared fixedly at the old lady,
+having deliberately left her own seat and planted herself on the one
+opposite.
+
+"Vinegar will do it," she said.
+
+"What are you talking about, child?" asked Mrs. Hungerford.
+
+"You are so red--such a deep red, I mean--much the same as chocolate.
+Vinegar will do it. Take three small glasses a day, and pay your Betty
+with vulgar sort of things out of an old bandbox."
+
+"The unfortunate child is evidently insane," was Mrs. Hungerford's
+thought. She spoke, therefore, in a reassuring way, and tried to look as
+though she thought Pen's remarks the most natural in the world.
+
+Pen, however, read through her.
+
+"You don't believe me," she said. "Now you listen. I look a pale little
+girl, don't I? I am nearly eight years old. I don't see why a girl of
+eight is to be trampled on; does you? I wanted to go, and I am going.
+It's tum-tum-ache and sore froat and paling cheeks that has done it. If
+you want to get what you don't think you will get, remember my words.
+It's vinegar does it, but it gives you tum-ache awful."
+
+The old lady could not help laughing.
+
+"Now, I wonder," she said, opening a basket of peaches, "whether these
+will give tum-ache."
+
+Penelope grinned; she showed a row of pearly teeth.
+
+"Guess not," she said.
+
+The old lady put the basket between Penelope and herself.
+
+"I have also got sandwiches--very nice ones--and little cakes," she said.
+"Shall we two have lunch together, even if my face is like chocolate?"
+
+"It's a beauty face, even if it is, and I love you," said Penelope. "I
+think you are quite 'licious. Don't you like to look like chocolate?"
+
+The old lady made no answer. Penelope dived her fat hand into the basket
+of peaches and secured the largest and ripest.
+
+"It is the best," she said. "Perhaps you ought to eat it."
+
+"I think I ought, but if you don't agree with me you shall have it."
+
+Penelope hesitated a moment.
+
+"You wouldn't say that if you didn't mean me to eat it," she said. "Thank
+you."
+
+She closed her teeth in the delicious fruit and enjoyed herself vastly.
+In short, by the time Mrs. Hungerford and her curious charge reached
+Easterhaze it seemed to them both that they had known each other all
+their days.
+
+Miss Tredgold, Verena, and Pauline met the train. The girls looked rosy
+and sunburnt. This was an ideal moment for Penelope. She almost forgot
+Mrs. Hungerford in her delight at this meeting with her relatives. But
+suddenly at the last moment she remembered.
+
+"How are you, Aunt Sophy? I am scrumptiously glad to see you. How are
+you, Verena? How are you, Paulie? Oh! please forgive me; I must say
+good-bye to the chocolate old lady."
+
+And the chocolate old lady was hugged and kissed several times, and then
+Pen was at liberty to enjoy the delights of the seaside.
+
+The lodgings where Miss Tredgold was staying were quite a mile from the
+station. Pen enjoyed her drive immensely. The look of the broad sea
+rolling on to the shore had a curious effect upon her strange nature. It
+touched her indescribably. It filled that scarcely awakened little soul
+of hers with longings. After all, it might be worth while to be good. She
+did not know why the sea made her long to be good; nevertheless it did.
+Her face became really pale.
+
+"Are you tired, dear?" asked Miss Tredgold, noticing the curious look on
+the expressive little face.
+
+"Oh, no, not that," replied Pen; "but I have never seen the sea before."
+
+Miss Tredgold felt that she understood. Pauline also understood. Verena
+did not think about the matter. It was Verena's habit to take the sweets
+of life as they came, to be contented with her lot, to love beauty for
+its own sake, to keep a calm mind and a calm body through all
+circumstances. She had accepted the sea as a broad, beautiful fact in her
+life some weeks ago. She was not prepared for Pen's emotion, nor did she
+understand it. She kept saying to herself:
+
+"Nurse is right after all; it was not mere fancy. Little Penelope is not
+well. A day or two on the sands in this glorious air will soon put her
+straight."
+
+Pauline, however, thought that she did understand her little sister. For
+to Pauline, from the first day she had arrived at Easterhaze, the sea had
+seemed to cry to her in one incessant, reiterating voice:
+
+"Come, wash and be clean. Come, lave yourself in me, and leave your
+naughtiness and your deceits and your black, black lies behind."
+
+And Pauline felt, notwithstanding her present happiness and her long days
+of health and vigor and glee, that she was disobeying the sea, for she
+was not washing therein, nor getting herself clean in all that waste of
+water. The old cry awoke again in her heart with an almost cruel
+insistence.
+
+"Come, wash and be clean," cried the sea.
+
+"I declare, Pauline, you are looking almost as pale as your sister," said
+Miss Tredgold. "Well, here we are. Now, Pen," she added, turning to
+Penelope, "I hope you will enjoy yourself. I certainly did not intend to
+ask you to join us, but as nurse said you were not well, and as your own
+extremely funny letter seemed to express the same thing, I thought it
+best to ask you here."
+
+"And you did quite right, Aunty Sophy," said Penelope.
+
+Then the look of the sea faded from her eyes, and she became once again a
+suspicious, eager, somewhat deceitful little girl. Once again the subtle
+and naughty things of life took possession of her. At any cost she must
+keep herself to the front. At any cost she must assume the power which
+she longed for. She was no longer a nursery child. She had won her way
+about coming to the seaside; now she must go still further. She must
+become a person of the greatest moment to Aunt Sophia. Aunt Sophia held
+the keys of power; therefore Penelope determined to devote herself to
+her.
+
+The lodgings were extremely cheerful. They were in a terrace overhanging
+the sea. From the big bay-windows of the drawing-room you could see the
+sunsets. There was a glorious sunset just beginning when Penelope walked
+to the window and looked out. Miss Tredgold had secured the best rooms in
+this very handsome house, and the best rooms consisted of a double
+drawing-room, the inner one of which was utilized as a dining-room; a
+large bedroom overhead in which Verena and Pauline slept; and a little
+room at the back which she used for herself, and in which now she had
+ordered a cot to be placed for Penelope.
+
+Penelope was taken upstairs and shown the arrangements that had been made
+for her comfort. Her eyes sparkled with delight when she saw the little
+cot.
+
+"There's no time like the night for telling things," she thought to
+herself. "Aunt Sophy can't get away from me at night. It's only to stay
+awake, perhaps to pertend to have a nightmare. Anyhow, night is the time
+to do what I have to do."
+
+Being quite sure, therefore, that she would get her opportunity of
+talking to Aunt Sophia, she revived for the time being to enjoy herself.
+Her volatile spirits rose. She laughed and talked, and ate an enormous
+meal. After the sort of tea-dinner was over the three girls went out by
+themselves on the sands.
+
+"You may stay out half-an-hour," said Miss Tredgold: "no longer, for
+Penelope has to go to bed. Afterwards I will take a walk with you two
+elder ones if you care to have me."
+
+"Of course we care to have you, dear Aunt Sophy," said Verena in her
+gentlest tone; and then the three started off. Penelope, in honor of her
+recent arrival, was promoted to the place in the middle. She laid a hand
+on each sister's arm and swung herself along. People remarked the trio,
+and said to themselves what a remarkably fat, healthy-looking little girl
+the one in the middle was.
+
+"Well, Pen," said Pauline as they approached the house, having discussed
+all sorts of subjects, "I can't see where the tum-ache and the sore
+throat and the pale cheeks come in."
+
+"They're gone," said Penelope. "I knew the sea would cure 'em. I am quite
+perfect well. I am going to be quite perfect well while I am here. I love
+the sea; don't you?"
+
+"Come, wash and be clean," whispered the sea to Pauline.
+
+She was silent. Verena said, however, that she greatly liked the sea.
+They went back to the house. Penelope was escorted upstairs. Pauline
+helped her to undress, and presently she was tucked into her little bed.
+
+"It seems a'most as if I wor still a nursery child," she said to her
+elder sister.
+
+"Why so?" asked Pauline.
+
+"Being sent to bed afore you and Renny. I am quite as old as you and
+Renny--in my mind, I mean."
+
+"Don't talk nonsense," said Pauline almost crossly.
+
+"Paulie," said Penelope, taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards
+her, "I went to see Nancy King t'other day."
+
+"Why did you do that?" asked Pauline.
+
+"Because I wanted to come to the sea, and there was no other way. Vinegar
+wouldn't do it, nor tum-aches, but I thought Nancy might."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said Pauline. "In what possible way could
+Nancy King have brought you here?"
+
+"Only that I got so desperate after seeing her that I wrote that funny,
+funny letter, and nursey helped me; and now I'm here, and I think I can
+do what I like. You had best be friends with me now, for I can do just
+what I like."
+
+Pauline felt just a little afraid. She knelt down by Pen.
+
+"Tell me why you went," she said. "You know you disobeyed Aunt Sophy when
+you went."
+
+"Yes; but what's one more in a family doing disobeying things?" answered
+Pen in her glib fashion. "But now listen. I will tell you."
+
+She related her adventures with much glee--her walk through the woods,
+her arrival, the terrible way in which Lurcher had treated her, the
+kindness of the farmer, the proposed dinner, Nancy's manners. She was
+working up to the grand climax, to the moment when she should speak about
+the thimble.
+
+"What do you think?" she said suddenly. "Nancy put me on a sofa, and I
+slept. I slept sound, and when I woke up I saw Nancy sitting by the
+window sewing. She wor making a blue scarf, and her thimble went flashing
+in and out; and what do you think, Paulie? What _do_ you think?"
+
+"Well?" said Pauline.
+
+"Pauline, dear, are you ready?" called a voice from below.
+
+"I must go," said Pauline; "but tell me at once, Pen, what you mean."
+
+"It was the thimble--the lost one," said Penelope--"the one with the
+dark-blue top and the light-blue stones round the rim, the goldy thimble
+which was Aunt Sophy's."
+
+In spite of her efforts Pauline did find herself turning white.
+
+"Pauline, dear, we can't wait any longer," said Miss Tredgold's voice.
+
+"I must go," said Pauline. "Tell me afterwards."
+
+"Whisper," said Penelope, pulling her hand. "I have got it. The deep-blue
+top and the light-blue stones and the goldy middle--I have it all. And I
+can tell Aunt Sophy, and show it, and I will if--if you don't tell me
+about----"
+
+"About what?"
+
+"About that time when three peoples walked across the lawn--the night
+after your birthday, I mean. Will you tell? I asked Briar, and she said
+she didn't know. She told a lie. Are you going to tell a lie, too? If you
+do I will---- Well, I won't say any more; only I have put it in the
+safest of places, and you will never find it. Now you can go down and go
+out with Aunt Sophy. Now you know, 'cos I've told you."
+
+Pauline slowly left the room. She felt dazed. Once again Miss Tredgold
+called her. She ran to her washstand, filled her basin with cold water,
+and dipped her face into it. Then she ran downstairs. She found it
+difficult to analyze her own sensations, but it seemed to her that
+through her little sister's eyes she saw for the first time her own
+wickedness.
+
+"To think that Pen could do it, and to think that I could be afraid of
+her!" she thought.
+
+She went out and walked with her aunt and Verena, but the insistent voice
+of the sea, as with each swish of the waves it cried, "Come, wash and be
+clean," hit like a hammer on her brain.
+
+"What is the matter with Pauline?" thought Verena.
+
+"The child is tired; she is not quite well yet," was Miss Tredgold's
+mental reflection.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE WHITE BAY.
+
+
+Penelope did not repeat her threat, but she watched Pauline. Miss
+Tredgold also watched Pauline. Verena felt uncomfortable, without quite
+knowing why. The keen vigor and joy of the first days at the seaside had
+departed. Pauline became pale once more, and Miss Tredgold's anxieties
+about her were revived. The Dales were a healthy race, but one or two of
+the Tredgolds had died of consumption. Miss Tredgold remembered a
+young--very young--sister of her own who had reached Pauline's age, and
+then quite suddenly had become melancholy, and then slightly unwell, and
+then more unwell, until the fell scourge had seized her as its prey. She
+had died when between sixteen and seventeen. Miss Tredgold seemed to see
+her sister's face in Pauline's. She did not for a single moment accuse
+the child of any wrong-doing. She did not imagine that what ailed her
+could have to do with the mind. Nevertheless she was anxious about her.
+Miss Tredgold had a good deal of penetration, but she was not accustomed
+to children. She thought that children of Pen's age were more little
+animals than anything else. It did not occur to her that a small child
+like Pen could have a mind of a very extraordinary order, and that the
+mind of this child could work in a direction which might hurt others. She
+did not suppose such a terrible child could exist.
+
+Pauline was therefore more or less a prey to the naughtiness of Pen, who
+used her as a weapon for her own enjoyment. Pen was quite determined to
+enjoy herself at the seaside. She would have her bucket and spade and
+make castles in the sand as long as ever she liked, and she would play
+with other children, and would make acquaintance with them. She insisted
+also on going very often to the shops to buy caramels or chocolates. In
+short, she was determined that during her brief stay at Easterhaze she
+would have as good a time as possible. It is quite on the cards that she
+would not have had so good a time as she did but for the agency of
+Pauline. Pauline, however, in spite of herself, sided with Pen. She
+almost hated Pen, but she sided with her. She used to throw her voice
+into the scale of Pen's desires, and Pen in consequence got pretty much
+what she wanted.
+
+There came a day when two children, a boy and a girl of the name of
+Carver, ran up to Pen and asked her if she would join them in going round
+the next promontory and gathering shells in a wide bay on the other side,
+which was known as the White Bay. The way to this bay, except at
+low-water, was not very safe, as during high-tide the sea was apt to come
+up and cut off retreat. Pen, however, knew nothing about this. The moment
+she was asked to go it occurred to her that there could be no such
+delightful place as the White Bay anywhere else in the world. She knew
+well, however, that Miss Tredgold never allowed her to go fifty yards
+from the house on either side. She looked up. Pauline was walking along
+the upper walk. She had a story-book in her hand. She meant to reach one
+of the shelters and sit down there to read. Pen turned to the two Carvers
+and said that she must ask permission, but she would be with them in a
+minute. She then scrambled up the path and ran to Pauline's side.
+
+"Pauline," she said, "I am going to the White Bay with the Carvers--those
+two children there--that boy and girl; you see 'em. We are going at once.
+They have got a basket of cakes, and we are going to gather shells and
+have a jolly time. We won't be back till one o'clock."
+
+"But you can't go," said Pauline. She did not know of any danger in
+going; she only thought that Penelope meant to disobey Miss Tredgold.
+"Aunt Sophy is out, and she has not given you leave," she said. "You must
+stay where you are, Pen."
+
+"But you can give me leave, Paulie, darling, can you not?"
+
+"I can't do anything of the sort; you mustn't ask me."
+
+Pen's eyes danced. The children on the sands called out to her.
+
+"Be quick, little girl, or we'll be cotched. If nurse comes out she won't
+let us go. We can go if we start at once."
+
+"Well, I'm off. You must give me leave, Paulie. If you don't I will----"
+
+"Don't!" said Pauline, backing away from her sister. She felt a sort of
+terror when Penelope taunted her with her superior knowledge and the
+cruel use she meant to put it to.
+
+"Go if you like," she said, in a white heat of passion. "You are the
+worry of my life."
+
+Pen gave her a flashing, by no means good sort of glance, and then tore
+down the winding path which led to the sands. Pauline got up; she left
+her seat by the shore and went inland.
+
+"I don't know how I am to bear it," she said to herself. "Pen has made me
+so wretched. I was hoping that nothing would be known. I was trying to
+forget, and I was making a lot of good resolves, and I am loving Aunt
+Sophy more and more each day. Why have I got such a dreadful little
+sister as Pen? She is like none of the rest. It seems almost incredible
+that I should be in the power of such a small child. Nevertheless I am in
+her power. I had no right to let her go to the White Bay; still, I told
+her to go, for I couldn't bear the agonies I should have to go through if
+I refused. Oh, I am wretched! Pen practically knows everything; so does
+Patty, and so does Briar. But they're safe enough; they won't betray
+me--they wouldn't for all the world. As to Pen, I don't know what she is
+made of. She will be a terrible woman by-and-by."
+
+Pauline walked on until she heard Verena's voice. She then turned back.
+
+"Aunt Sophy said we were to go up to the town to meet her," said Verena.
+"She's doing some shopping. She wants to get a new autumn hat for you,
+and another for me. Come along, Paulie. We are to be at Murray's in the
+High Street at eleven o'clock."
+
+Pauline turned and walked soberly by her sister's side.
+
+"Are you as tired as ever this morning, Paulie?" asked Verena.
+
+"I am not tired at all," replied Pauline.
+
+Verena considered for a minute.
+
+"Aunt Sophy is often anxious about you," she said. "I can't imagine why,
+but she is. She says that she doesn't think you are at all strong."
+
+"Oh, I am!" interrupted Pauline. "I wish she wouldn't worry about me. I
+wish you'd tell her not to worry. I am really as strong as any girl could
+be. Do tell her not to fret about me any more."
+
+"Where is Pen?" said Verena suddenly.
+
+Pauline did not speak.
+
+"I suppose she is down on the beach as usual," said Verena again in a
+careless tone. "She's always down there. She is such a queer little
+mite!"
+
+"Don't let's talk about her," said Pauline almost crossly.
+
+The girls turned their conversation to other matters, and when they
+joined Miss Tredgold at Murray's shop they had both forgotten the
+existence of their little sister Penelope.
+
+Meanwhile that young person was having a good time. Having gained her
+wish, she was in excellent spirits, and was determined to make herself
+extremely agreeable to the Carvers. She thought them quite nice children.
+They were different from the children at home. They had lived almost all
+their lives in London. They told Pen a good many stories about London. It
+was the only place worth living in, Harry Carver said. When you went out
+there you always turned your steps in the direction of the Zoo. Pen asked
+what the Zoo was. Harry Carver gave her a glance of amazement.
+
+"Why, it's chock-full of wild beasts," he said.
+
+Pen thought this a most exciting description. Her cheeks paled; her eyes
+grew big. She clasped hold of Harry's arm and said in a trembling voice:
+
+"Are you joking, or do you mean real lions and bears and tigers?"
+
+"I mean real lions and bears and tigers," said Harry. "Oh, if you only
+heard the lions roar! We see them fed, too. It is fun to hear them
+growling when they get their meat; and the way they lick it--oh, it's
+most exciting!"
+
+"So it is," said Nellie Carver. "It's awful fun to go to the Zoo."
+
+"You must be very courageous," said Pen, who did not know that the wild
+beasts were confined in cages.
+
+Neither Eleanor nor Harry Carver thought it worth while to enlighten Pen
+with regard to this particular; on the contrary, they determined to keep
+it to themselves. It was nice to have a little girl like Pen looking at
+them with awe.
+
+"It isn't everybody who can go to the Zoo," proceeded Harry. "There are
+people that the wild beasts don't ever care to touch. Nellie and I are
+that sort; we're made that way. We walk about amongst them; we stroke
+them and pet them. I often sit on the neck of a lion, and quite enjoy
+myself."
+
+"My pet beast for a ride is a panther," said Nellie, her eyes sparkling
+with fun at her own delicious ideas; "but most children can never ride on
+lions and panthers."
+
+"I don't believe you ride on them," said Pen. "You don't look half brave
+enough for that."
+
+"Why don't you think us brave?" asked Harry. "You are not a nice girl
+when you talk in that way. You wouldn't even be brave enough to ride on
+the elephants. Oh, it's very jolly for the real brave people when they go
+to the Zoo."
+
+"And is that the only place to go to in London?" asked Pen.
+
+As she spoke she quickened her steps, for the children were now crossing
+the extreme end of the promontory round which was the celebrated White
+Bay.
+
+"There are other places. There's the British Museum, full of books. There
+are miles and miles of books in London, and miles and miles of pictures."
+
+"What an awful place!" said Pen, who had no love for either books or
+pictures. "Don't tell me any more about it. Go on ascribing the wild
+animals. Is there serpents at the Zoo?"
+
+"Tons of 'em. When they have gorged a rabbit or a lamb or a girl whole,
+they lie down and sleep for about a week."
+
+"They don't gorge girls!"
+
+"They think nothing of it; that is, if the girl is the sort of child they
+don't like."
+
+"I won't go," said Pen. "I am not the sort of child the wild beasts would
+love. I think maybe I might be crunched up by the lions. I shan't go."
+
+"Well, no one asked you," said Harry. "You are quite certain to be eaten,
+so you had best stay away."
+
+"Why do you say that?"
+
+Harry glanced at his sister. Nellie laughed. Harry laughed also.
+
+"Why do you talk in that way, you horrid boy?" said Pen, stamping her
+foot. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I'll tell you, only you need not try to kill me with your eyes. The wild
+beasts only like good uns. You ain't good. The wild beasts would soon
+find that out."
+
+For some extraordinary reason Pen found herself turning pale. She had a
+moment of actual fear. At this instant she would have resigned the
+thimble--the golden thimble, with its sapphire top and turquoise rim--to
+the safe keeping of Pauline. For if Pauline had the thimble Pen would
+have very little to say against her. As long as she possessed the thimble
+she felt that Pauline was in her power. She liked the sensation, and she
+was honest enough to own as much.
+
+The conversation was now quickly turned. The children found plenty of
+shells in the White Bay. Soon they were sitting on the sands picking them
+up and enjoying themselves as only children can.
+
+"So," said Pen, pushing back her hat and fixing her eyes on Harry's face,
+"you comed here without leave?"
+
+"Of course we did," said Harry. "Won't nurse be in a state when she finds
+we've gone! She will rush up and down in front of the house and cry, for
+father and mother have gone away for the whole day, and nurse is in sole
+charge. Oh, won't she be in a state! She went off to walk with her young
+man, and we thought we'd play a joke on her, for she's often told us not
+to come here. 'If you go near that White Bay,' she said, 'you will be
+drowned as sure as sure.' She daren't tell father and mother because of
+her young man. Isn't it fun?"
+
+"Yes," said Penelope, "it's prime fun; but isn't this fun, too? You won't
+be able to go to that Zoo place any more."
+
+"Now what do you mean?"
+
+"Why, this: the animals will eat you up. You are bad, same as me. You two
+won't be able to go to any more Zoos;" and Pen rolled round and round in
+fiendish delight.
+
+The other children looked at her with anything but approval.
+
+"I don't like her," whispered Nellie to her brother.
+
+"Of course you don't like bad little girls," replied Harry. "Let's run
+away at once and leave her. Let's."
+
+They scrambled to their feet. To love a new playmate and yet without an
+instant's warning to desert her was quite in accordance with their
+childish ideas. In a moment they were running as fast as their legs would
+permit across the sands. The tide had been coming in fast for some time.
+
+For a moment Pen sat almost petrified; then she rushed after them. She
+was wild with passion; she had never been so angry in all her life. There
+were many times when the other children at The Dales treated her with
+scant courtesy, but to be suddenly deserted in this fashion by strange
+children was more than she could endure.
+
+"Oh, how bad you have got! You are so bad--so dreadfully, horribly
+bad--that the tide is certain to come in and drown you up," she cried.
+"You can't go away from me; you can't. Oh, see! it has comed;" and Pen
+danced up and down and clapped her hands in triumph.
+
+She was right. She had gained a complete victory. Just at the extreme end
+of the promontory a gentle wave, peaceful, pretty, and graceful, curled
+up against the solid rock. It had scarcely retired in bashful innocence
+when another wave tumbled after it. They looked like charming
+playfellows. Then came a third, then a fourth and a fifth. Faster and
+faster they rolled in, flowing up the white sands and making a white foam
+round the rock.
+
+The little Carvers stood still, transfixed with a curious mingling of
+delight, excitement, and horror. Pen ceased to jump up and down.
+Presently she ceased to laugh. She was only a very small girl, and did
+not in the least realize her danger; nevertheless, as she used her eyes
+to good purpose, and as she quickly perceived that the opposite side of
+the bay was now shut away by a great body of water, it did occur to her
+that they would have to stay in their present shelter for some time.
+Harry turned round slowly. Harry was ten years old, and he understood. He
+had heard his father talk of the dangerous White Bay. He went straight up
+to Pen, and, taking her hand, burst out crying.
+
+"It don't matter," he said--"it don't matter whether we are good or
+whether we are bad. We can none of us ever go to the Zoo again. Nellie
+and I won't ever go any more, and you can never go at all."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Pen.
+
+Her heart began to beat fast and loud.
+
+"What do you mean? Oh, you dreadful bad----"
+
+"Don't call names," said Harry. "You will be sorry by-and-by; and
+by-and-by comes soon. We have got to be drowned, all three of us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+"OUR FATHER" IS BEST.
+
+
+Pauline and Verena found Miss Tredgold waiting for them. They went into
+the shop, which was quite one of the best shops in the High Street. There
+Miss Tredgold asked to see hats, and presently the two girls and their
+aunt were absorbed in the fascinating occupation of trying on new
+headgear. Miss Tredgold was buying a very pretty hat for herself also. It
+was to be trimmed with lace and feathers, and Verena had a momentary
+sense of disappointment that she was to have nothing so gay to wear on
+her own head. The attendant who was serving them made a sudden remark.
+
+"Yes, ma'am," she said, "this little brown hat trimmed with velvet will
+exactly suit the dark young lady." Here she looked at Pauline. "And I
+should venture to suggest a very little cream-colored lace introduced in
+front. The autumn is coming on, and the young lady will find this hat
+very suitable when the weather changes."
+
+"Well, the weather seems inclined to remain fine," said Miss Tredgold,
+glancing out of the window, where a very blue sky met her gaze. There
+were heavy white clouds, however, drifting quickly across the sky, and
+the young shop attendant said:
+
+"I hear that there's a storm expected. And anyhow it is high-tide
+to-night. The tide will come up and quite cover the White Bay this
+evening. It is always more or less dangerous there, but it is specially
+dangerous to-day. I never like these high-tides; children and nursemaids
+are so apt to forget all about them."
+
+Miss Tredgold muttered something conventional. Pauline suddenly sat down
+on a chair.
+
+"How white you are, dear!" said Miss Tredgold. "Would you oblige me," she
+added, turning to the attendant, "by bringing this young lady a glass of
+water?"
+
+But Pauline had already recovered herself.
+
+"Please don't," she said. "I want to go out. I want to get the air.
+Don't--don't keep me."
+
+Her movement was so sudden and so unexpected that neither Miss Tredgold
+nor Verena had time to say a word. The people in the shop saw a somewhat
+untidy-looking little girl rush wildly down the stairs and out of doors,
+and long before Miss Tredgold had time to recover her scattered senses
+that same little girl was tearing as though on the wings of the wind up
+the High Street. Panting, breathless, overpowered with emotion, she
+presently reached the long flat stretch of beach at the farther end of
+which was the dangerous White Bay. Never in all her life had Pauline run
+as she did now. Faster and faster flew her feet. There was a noise in her
+ears as though something was hammering on her brain. She was almost faint
+with terror. Should she be in time? Should she be too late? Oh! she must
+be in time.
+
+Presently she saw the far end of the promontory. Her heart gave a bound
+and almost stood still. What was that white thing curling round it?
+Water? Oh, yes; but she did not mind. She had waded before now. This was
+a case of wading again. She reached the spot, and a moment later she had
+torn off her shoes and stockings, had gathered her skirts round her
+waist, and was walking through the waves. The water was already over a
+foot deep. There was also a strong tide, and she had some difficulty in
+keeping her feet. She managed to hold her own, however, and found herself
+a minute or two later, drenched all over, panting and trembling, but
+still safe in the White Bay. To her relief, she saw three terrified
+children crouching up as near as they dared to the water. Even now a
+great wave, deeper and stronger than its predecessors, rolled in. It took
+Pauline off her feet just as she was clambering to dry ground. She
+recovered herself, ran up to Pen, took her hand, and said:
+
+"We have played pickaback before now. Get on my back this moment; don't
+stop to think."
+
+"I daren't," said Pen.
+
+"Little boy--I don't know your name," said Pauline--"put Pen onto my back
+whatever happens."
+
+Harry Carver sprang towards Pen.
+
+"You must," he said. "She is brave; she is a true heroine. The lions and
+tigers would love her. Get on her back and she will return for us. Oh! be
+quick--do be quick--for we don't any of us want to be drowned."
+
+"Can you swim?" asked Pauline. "No; I know you can't. I haven't a moment
+to stay; I'll come back somehow."
+
+She struggled towards the water, but Pen scrambled off her back and stood
+firm on the ground.
+
+"I am bad," she said--"there never was anybody much badder--but I'm not
+going first. Take that little girl; I will go afterwards."
+
+"Come, little girl," said Pauline.
+
+Harry rushed towards his sister.
+
+"Do go, Nellie. Let mother keep one of us. I don't mind being
+drowned--not a bit. You tell mother I don't mind. Go, Nellie; do go with
+the big brave girl."
+
+So Pauline carried Nellie through the rising tide, and, marvellous to
+relate, did land her safely on the other side.
+
+"Now look here," she said, "you must rush home as fast as you can, and
+when you get there you are to say that there are two girls and a boy in
+the White Bay, and that your people are to bring a boat immediately.
+Don't waste a second. Find somebody. If all your people are out, go to
+ours. Our house is No. 11. You understand? There isn't a minute to lose."
+
+"Yes, see you go," shouted Harry Carver. "And if you are too late, be
+sure you tell mother that I wasn't afraid to drown."
+
+Nellie Carver began to run as fast as she could across the sands. Pauline
+hesitated for a moment; then she deliberately waded back to the other
+two. The water was up to her waist now, and she had the greatest
+difficulty in keeping her feet.
+
+"I couldn't face anybody again if Pen were drowned," she said to herself.
+"If she drowns, so will I. It is the only thing fit for me. Perhaps when
+God sees that I am sorry, and that I did try to save Pen, He will forgive
+me; but I am not sure. Anyhow, I deserve to be drowned. I could never,
+never face the others if Pen were to die because of me."
+
+She was just able to scramble again out of the water on the White Bay
+side. The tide was coming in with great rapidity. It was hopeless to
+think of carrying Pen across.
+
+"Let us go to the top part of the bay, as close to the rocks as
+possible," said Pauline; "and don't let's be really frightened, for I am
+sure the boat will be in time."
+
+"Oh, I am certain of it!" said Harry. "Nellie never does lose her head.
+She won't want us to drown, so she'll hurry up."
+
+"Give me your hand, Pen," said Pauline. "You are a very brave little girl
+to let the other little girl go first. I am glad you did it."
+
+"Will God remember that about me by-and-by?" asked Pen.
+
+"I hope so," replied Pauline, with a shiver.
+
+She took Pen's icy hand and began to rub it.
+
+"It isn't at all good for you to shiver like this," she said. "Here is a
+bright piece of sunshine. Let us run up and down in the sunshine. It
+doesn't seem, somehow, as though anybody could drown when the sun
+shines."
+
+"Maybe the boat will be in time," said Harry.
+
+They ran up and down for some time, and then stood quiet. Pauline was
+very silent. Beside the other two children she felt quite old and
+grown-up. She had got Pen into this terrible scrape; it was her mission
+to help them both. If they must all die, she at least would have to show
+courage. She was not ready to die. She knew that fact quite well. But she
+had naturally plenty of pluck, and fearful as her present surroundings
+were, she would not have been afraid but for that ugly black thing which
+rested on her conscience. Penelope looked full into her face. There was
+something also pricking Penelope's conscience. The three children stood
+close together on the little white patch of sand which had not yet been
+covered by the waves. The wind was getting up, and the waves were
+mounting higher; they rushed farther and farther up the bay, and curled
+and swept and enjoyed themselves, and looked as though they were having a
+race up the white sands. Pauline made a rapid calculation, and came to
+the conclusion that they had about half-an-hour to live; for the bay was
+a very shallow one, and when the wind was in its present quarter the tide
+rose rapidly. She looked back at the rocks behind her, and saw that
+high-water mark, even on ordinary occasions, was just above their heads.
+This was what is called a spring-tide. There was not the least hope.
+
+"If only we could climb up," she thought.
+
+Then Penelope gave her hand a great tug. She looked down. Pen went on
+tugging and tugging.
+
+"Look," she said; "stoop and look."
+
+In the palm of Pen's hand lay the thimble.
+
+"Take it," said Pen. "I comed with it to make mischief, but I won't never
+tell now--never. Take it. Put it in your pocket. I am sorry I was so bad.
+Take it."
+
+Pauline did take the little gold thimble. She slipped it into her pocket;
+then she stooped and kissed Pen.
+
+"What are you two doing?" said Harry. "Why don't you talk to me? Can't I
+do something to help? I'm ten. How old are you?"
+
+"I was fourteen a few weeks ago," said Pauline.
+
+"Granny!" said the boy. "Why, you are quite old; you are withering up. I
+wouldn't like to be fourteen. You must know a monstrous lot. You are a
+very plucky one to come through the water as you did. I wish I could
+swim, and I wouldn't let the waves get the better of me; but I'm glad I
+let Nellie see that I wasn't afraid of drowning. Do you mind drowning,
+big, big, old girl?"
+
+"Yes, I do," said Pauline.
+
+"You have a queer sort of look in your eyes, like the little one has in
+hers. Are you wicked, too?"
+
+"You have guessed it," said Pauline.
+
+"I expect we're all wicked for that matter; but we can say our prayers,
+can't we?"
+
+"Yes," said Pauline, and now her lips trembled and the color faded from
+her cheeks. "Let us say them together."
+
+"By-and-by," said Pen. "We needn't say our prayers yet. It will be some
+time afore the water will touch us; won't it, Paulie?"
+
+Pauline knew that the water would come in very quickly. Harry looked full
+at Pen, and then he nodded his head. He came to Pauline and whispered
+something in her ear.
+
+"What is it?" she said.
+
+"She's little," he said. "She's quite a baby--not eight yet. I am ten.
+When the water begins to come in we'll lift her in our arms and raise her
+above it; shan't we?"
+
+"Yes; that is a very good thought," said Pauline. She looked back again
+at the rocks. They were smooth as marble; there did not seem to be a
+possible foothold. She felt a sense of regret that they had not gone to
+the farther end of the bay, where the rocks were lower and more indented,
+and where it might be possible for a brave boy and girl to get temporary
+foothold; but the sea had already reached those rocks and was dashing
+round them.
+
+"I wish I had thought of it," said Pauline.
+
+"What about?"
+
+"The rocks--those rocks out there."
+
+The words had scarcely passed her lips before Harry darted back. A wave
+from the incoming tide had rolled over his feet.
+
+Pen uttered a sudden cry:
+
+"I am frightened. I won't drown. I am awful frightened."
+
+She began to shriek.
+
+"Try and keep up your courage, darling," said Pauline. "It won't be long.
+It will be quickly over, and I will stay close to you. Paulie will be
+close to you."
+
+"Let us get her to stand on our two shoulders, and we'll lean up against
+the rocks," said Harry. "She can steady herself against the rock, and I
+will support you both. Here, I will hoist her up. Now, missy, you look
+slippy. That's it."
+
+Harry was a very active boy, and he did manage to lift Pen, who was stiff
+with cold and fright, and miserable with a sense of her own naughtiness,
+on to Pauline's and his shoulders. When she was established in that
+position she was propped up against the rocks.
+
+"Now you are safe," said Harry, looking back at her and trying to laugh.
+"We'll both drown before you. See how safe you are."
+
+Just for a moment Pen was somewhat consoled by this reflection. But
+presently a fresh terror seized her. It would be so awful when she was
+left alone and there was only a dead Pauline and a dead Harry to keep her
+company. She had never seen anybody die, and had not the least idea what
+death meant. Her terrors grew worse each moment. She began to cry and
+whimper miserably, "I wish that boat would come."
+
+Another wave came in and washed right over both Pauline's and Harry's
+ankles. They were jammed up against the rocks now. This big wave was
+followed by a second and a third, and soon the children were standing in
+water very nearly up to their knees.
+
+"Seems to me," said Harry in a choky voice, "that it is about time we
+began our prayers. It is like going to sleep at night. Just when you are
+preparing to sleep you say your prayers, and then you dump your head down
+on your pillow and off you go to by-bye land. Then mother comes and
+kisses you, and she says---- Oh, bother! I don't want to think of that.
+Let's try and fancy that it is night. Let's begin our prayers. Oh, what a
+wave that is! Why, it has dashed right into my eyes."
+
+"How far up is the water now, Pauline?" asked Penelope from her position.
+
+"It is not very far up yet," replied Pauline in as cheerful a tone as she
+could. "We had better do what Harry says, and say our prayers."
+
+"Shall us?" said Pen.
+
+"I think so," replied Pauline.
+
+There was a strange sensation in her throat, and a mist before her eyes.
+Her feet were so icy cold that it was with difficulty she could keep
+herself from slipping.
+
+"Which prayer shall we say?" asked Harry. "There's a lot of them. There's
+our special private prayers in which we say, 'God bless father and
+mother;' and then there's 'Our Father.'"
+
+"'Our Father' is best," said Pauline.
+
+The children began repeating it in a sing-song fashion. Suddenly Pen
+violently clutched hold of Pauline.
+
+"Will God forgive our badnesses?" she asked.
+
+"He will--I know He will," answered Pauline; and just at that instant
+there came a cry from Harry.
+
+"A boat! a boat!" he shrieked. "And it's coming our way. I knew Nellie
+was a brick. I knew she'd do it."
+
+A boat rowed by four men came faster and faster over the waves. By-and-by
+it was within a stone's-throw of the children. A big man sat in the
+stern. Harry glanced at him.
+
+"Why, it's father!" he cried. "Oh, father, why did you come home? I
+thought you had gone away for the day. Father, I wasn't a bit afraid to
+drown--not really, I mean. I hope Nellie told you."
+
+"Yes, my brave boy. Now, see, when I hold out my hand, spring up
+carefully or the boat will capsize."
+
+The next instant a stalwart hand and arm were stretched across the
+rapidly rising waves, and Harry, with a bound, was in the boat.
+
+"Lie down in the boat, and stay as quiet as a mouse," said his father.
+
+Pauline, already up to her waist in water, struggled a step or two and
+was dragged into the boat; while two of the men bent over, and, catching
+Penelope round the waist, lifted her into their ark of shelter.
+
+"It was touch-and-go, sir," said one of the sailors who had accompanied
+Harry's father. "Five minutes later and we could have done no good."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE DULL WEIGHT.
+
+
+The rest of that day passed for Pauline in a sort of dream. She felt no
+fear nor pain nor remorse. She lay in bed with a languid and sleepy
+sensation. Aunt Sophia went in and out of the room; she was all kindness
+and sympathy. Several times she bent down and kissed the child's hot
+forehead. It gave Pauline neither pain nor pleasure when her aunt did
+that; she was, in short, incapable of any emotion. When the doctor came
+at night his face looked grave.
+
+"The little girl is all right," he said. "She has had a terrible fright,
+but a good night's rest will quite restore her to her usual health; but I
+don't quite like the look of the elder girl."
+
+Verena, who was in the room, now came forward.
+
+"Pauline is always pale," she said. "If it is only that she looks a
+little more pale than usual----"
+
+"It isn't that," interrupted the doctor. "Her nervous system has got a
+most severe shock."
+
+"The fact is this," said Miss Tredgold. "The child has not been herself
+for some time. It was on that account that I brought her to the seaside.
+She was getting very much better. This accident is most unfortunate, and
+I cannot understand how she knew about Penelope."
+
+"It was a precious good thing she did find it out," said the doctor, "or
+Mr. Carver's two little children and your young niece would all have been
+drowned. Miss Pauline did a remarkably plucky thing. Well, I will send
+round a quieting draught. Some one had better sleep in the child's room
+to-night; she may possibly get restless and excited."
+
+When Miss Tredgold and Verena found themselves alone, Miss Tredgold
+looked at her niece.
+
+"Can you understand it?" she asked.
+
+"No, Aunt Sophy."
+
+"Has Pen told you anything?"
+
+"No."
+
+"We must not question her further just now," said Miss Tredgold. "She
+will explain things in the morning, perhaps. Why did the children go to
+the White Bay--a forbidden place to every child in the neighborhood? And
+how did Pauline know that they were there? The mystery thickens. It
+annoys me very much."
+
+Verena said nothing, but her eyes slowly filled with tears.
+
+"My dear," said Miss Tredgold suddenly, "I thought it right this
+afternoon to send your father a telegram. He may arrive in the morning,
+or some time to-morrow; there is no saying."
+
+"Oh, I'm sure he will come if he remembers," said Verena.
+
+"That's just it, Renny. How long will he remember? Sometimes I think he
+has a fossil inside of him instead of a heart. But there! I must not
+abuse him to you, my dear."
+
+"He is really a most loving father," said Verena; "that is, when he
+remembers. Why he should forget everything puzzles me a good deal; still,
+I cannot forget that he is my father."
+
+"And you are right to remember it, dear child. Now go and sleep in the
+same room with Pen, and watch her. I will take care of Pauline."
+
+Pauline was given her sleeping draught, and Miss Tredgold, placing
+herself in an easy-chair, tried to think over the events of the day. Soon
+her thoughts wandered from the day itself to the days that had gone
+before, and she puzzled much over Pauline's character and her curious,
+half-repellent, half-affectionate attitude towards herself.
+
+"What can be the matter with the child?" she thought. "She doesn't really
+care for me as the others do, and yet sometimes she gives me a look that
+none of the others have ever yet given me, just as if she loved me with
+such a passionate love that it would make up for everything I have ever
+missed in my life. Now, Verena is affectionate and sweet, and open as the
+day. As to Pen, she is an oddity--no more and no less. I wish I could
+think her quite straightforward and honorable; but it must be my mission
+to train her in those important attributes. Pauline is the one who really
+puzzles me."
+
+By-and-by Pauline opened her eyes. She thought herself alone. She
+stretched out her arms and said in a voice of excitement:
+
+"Nancy, you had no right to do it. You had no right to send it away to
+London. It was like stealing it. I want it back. Nancy, I must have it
+back."
+
+Miss Tredgold went and bent over her. Pauline was evidently speaking in
+her sleep. Miss Tredgold returned again to her place by the window. The
+dawn was breaking. There was a streak of light across the distant
+horizon. The tide was coming in fast. Miss Tredgold, as she watched the
+waves, found herself shuddering. But for the merest chance Pauline and
+Pen might have been now lying within their cold embrace. Miss Tredgold
+shuddered again. She stood up, and was just about to draw the curtain to
+prevent the little sleeper from being disturbed by the light, when
+Pauline opened her eyes wide, looked gravely at her aunt, and said:
+
+"Is that you, Nancy? How strange and thin and old you have got! And have
+you brought it back at last? She wants it; she misses it, and Pen keeps
+on looking and looking for it. It is so lovely and uncommon, you see. It
+is gold and dark-blue and light-blue. It is most beautiful. Have you got
+it for me, Nancy?"
+
+"It is I, dear, not Nancy," said Miss Tredgold, coming forward. "You have
+had a very good night. I hope you are better."
+
+Pauline looked up at her.
+
+"How funny!" she said. "I really thought you were Nancy--Nancy King, my
+old friend. I suppose I was dreaming."
+
+"You were talking about something that was dark-blue and light-blue and
+gold," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+Pauline gave a weak smile.
+
+"Was I?" she answered.
+
+Miss Tredgold took the little girl's hands and put them inside the
+bedclothes.
+
+"I am going to get you a cup of tea," she said.
+
+Miss Tredgold made the tea herself; and when she brought it, and pushed
+back Pauline's tangled hair, she observed a narrow gold chain round her
+neck.
+
+"Where did she get it?" thought the good lady. "Mysteries get worse. I
+know all about her little ornaments. She has been talking in a most
+unintelligible way. And where did she get that chain?"
+
+Miss Tredgold's discoveries of that morning were not yet at an end; for
+by-and-by, when the servant brought in Pauline's dress which she had been
+drying by the kitchen fire, she held something in her hand.
+
+"I found this in the young lady's pocket," she said. "I am afraid it is
+injured a good bit, but if you have it well rubbed up it may get all
+right again."
+
+Miss Tredgold saw in the palm of the girl's hand her own much-valued and
+long-lost thimble. She gave a quick start, then controlled herself.
+
+"You can put it down," she said. "I am glad it was not lost."
+
+"It is a beautiful thimble," said the girl. "I am sure Johnson, the
+jeweller in the High Street, could put it right for you, miss."
+
+"You had better leave the room now," replied Miss Tredgold. "The young
+lady will hear you if you talk in a whisper."
+
+When the maid had gone Miss Tredgold remained for a minute or two holding
+the thimble in the palm of her hand; then she crossed the room on tiptoe,
+and replaced it in the pocket of Pauline's serge skirt.
+
+For the whole of that day Pauline lay in a languid and dangerous
+condition. The doctor feared mischief to the brain. Miss Tredgold waited
+on her day and night. At the end of the third day there was a change for
+the better, and then convalescence quickly followed.
+
+Mr. Dale made his appearance on the scene early on the morning after the
+accident. He was very much perturbed, and very nearly shed tears when he
+clasped Penelope in his arms. But in an hour's time he got restless, and
+asked Verena in a fretful tone what he had left his employment for. She
+gave him a fresh account of the whole story as far as she knew it, and he
+once more remembered and asked to see Pauline, and actually dropped a
+tear on her forehead. But by the midday train he returned to The Dales,
+and long before he got there the whole affair in the White Bay was
+forgotten by him.
+
+In a week's time Pauline was pronounced convalescent; but although she
+had recovered her appetite, and to a certain extent her spirits, there
+was a considerable change over her. This the doctor did not at first
+remark; but Miss Tredgold and Verena could not help noticing it. For one
+thing, Pauline hated looking at the sea. She liked to sit with her back
+to it. When the subject was mentioned she turned fidgety, and sometimes
+even left the room. Now and then, too, she complained of a weight
+pressing on her head. In short, she was herself and yet not herself; the
+old bright, daring, impulsive, altogether fascinating Pauline seemed to
+be dead and gone.
+
+On the day when she was considered well enough to go into the
+drawing-room, there was a festival made in her honor. The place looked
+bright and pretty. Verena had got a large supply of flowers, which she
+placed in glasses on the supper-table and also on a little table close to
+Pauline's side. Pauline did not remark on the flowers, however. She did
+not remark on anything. She was gentle and sweet, and at the same time
+indifferent to her surroundings.
+
+When supper was over she found herself alone with Penelope. Then a wave
+of color rushed into her face, and she looked full at her little sister.
+
+"Have I done it or have I not, Pen?" she said. "Have I been awfully
+wicked--the wickedest girl on earth--or is it a dream? Tell me--tell me,
+Pen. Tell me the truth."
+
+"It is as true as anything in the wide world," said Pen, speaking with
+intense emphasis and coming close to her sister. "There never was anybody
+more wicked than you--_'cept_ me. We are both as bad as bad can be. But I
+tell you what, Paulie, though I meant to tell, I am not going to tell
+now; for but for you I'd have been drownded, and I am never, never, never
+going to tell."
+
+"But for me!" said Pauline, and the expression on her face was somewhat
+vague.
+
+"Oh, Paulie, how white you look! No, I will never tell. I love you now,
+and it is your secret and mine for ever and ever."
+
+Pauline said nothing. She put her hand to her forehead; the dull weight
+on her head was very manifest.
+
+"We are going home next week," continued Pen in her brightest manner.
+"You will be glad of that. You will see Briar and Patty and all the rest,
+and perhaps you will get to look as you used to. You are not much to be
+proud of now. You are seedy-looking, and rather dull, and not a bit
+amusing. But I loves you, and I'll never, never tell."
+
+"Run away, Pen," said Miss Tredgold, coming into the room at that moment.
+"You are tiring Pauline. You should not have talked so loud; your sister
+is not very strong yet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+PLATO AND VIRGIL.
+
+
+Mr. Dale returned home to find metamorphosis; for Betty and John, egged
+on by nurse, had taken advantage of his day from home to turn out the
+study. This study had not been properly cleaned for years. It had never
+had what servants are fond of calling a spring cleaning. Neither spring
+nor autumn found any change for the better in that tattered, dusty, and
+worn-out carpet; in those old moreen curtains which hung in heavy, dull
+folds round the bay-window; in the leathern arm-chair, with very little
+leather left about it; in the desk, which was so piled with books and
+papers that it was difficult even to discover a clear space on which to
+write. The books on the shelves, too, were dusty as dusty could be. Many
+of them were precious folios--folios bound in calf which book-lovers
+would have given a great deal for--but the dust lay thick on them, and
+Betty said, with a look of disgust, that they soiled her fingers.
+
+"Oh, drat you and your fingers!" said nurse. "You think of nothing but
+those blessed trashy novels you are always reading. You must turn to now.
+The master is certain to be back by the late afternoon train, and this
+room has got to be put into apple-pie order before he returns."
+
+"Yes," said John; "we won't lose the chance. We'll take each book from
+its place on the shelf, dust it, and put it back again. We have a long
+job before us, so don't you think any more of your novels and your grand
+ladies and gentlemen, Betty, my woman."
+
+"I have ceased to think of them," said Betty.
+
+She stood with her hands hanging straight to her sides; her face was
+quite pale.
+
+"I trusted, and my trust failed me," she continued. "I was at a wedding
+lately, John--you remember, don't you?--Dick Jones's wedding, at the
+other side of the Forest. There was a beautiful wedding cake, frosted
+over and almond-iced underneath, and ornaments on it, too--cupids and
+doves and such-like. A pair of little doves sat as perky as you please on
+the top of the cake, billing and cooing like anything. It made my eyes
+water even to look at 'em. You may be sure I didn't think of Mary
+Dugdale, the bride that was, nor of poor Jones, neither; although he is a
+good looking man enough--I never said he wasn't. But my heart was in my
+mouth thinking of that dear Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton."
+
+"Who in the name of fortune is he?" asked nurse.
+
+"A hero of mine," said Betty.
+
+Her face looked a little paler and more mournful even than when she had
+begun to speak.
+
+"He's dead," she said, and she whisked a handkerchief out of her pocket
+and applied it to her eyes. "It was bandits as carried him off. He loved
+that innocent virgin he took for his wife like anything. Over and over
+have I thought of them, and privately made up my mind that if I came
+across his second I'd give him my heart."
+
+"Betty, you must be mad," said nurse.
+
+"Maybe you are mad," retorted Betty, her face flaming, "but I am not. It
+was a girl quite as poor as me that he took for his spouse; and why
+shouldn't there be another like him? That's what I thought, and when the
+wedding came to an end I asked Mary Dugdale to give me a bit of the cake
+all private for myself. She's a good-natured sort is Mary, though not
+equal to Jones--not by no means. She cut a nice square of the cake, a
+beautiful chunk, black with richness as to the fruit part, yellow as to
+the almond, and white as the driven snow as to the icing. And, if you'll
+believe it, there was just the tip of a wing of one of those angelic
+little doves cut off with the icing. Well, I brought it home with me, and
+I slept on it just according to the old saw which my mother taught me.
+Mother used to say, 'Betty, if you want to dream of your true love, you
+will take a piece of wedding-cake that belongs to a fresh-made bride, and
+you will put it into your right-foot stocking, and tie it with your
+left-foot garter, and put it under your pillow. And when you get into
+bed, not a mortal word will you utter, or the spell is broke. And that
+you will do, Betty,' said my mother, 'for three nights running. And then
+you will put the stocking and the garter and the cake away for three
+nights, and at the end of those nights you will sleep again on it for
+three nights; and then you will put it away once more for three nights,
+and you will sleep on it again for three nights. And at the end of the
+last night, why, the man you dream of is he.'"
+
+"Well, and did you go in for all that gibberish?" asked nurse, with
+scorn.
+
+She had a duster in her hand, and she vigorously flicked Mr. Dale's desk
+as she spoke.
+
+"To be sure I did; and I thought as much over the matter as ought to have
+got me a decent husband. Well, when the last night come I lay me down to
+sleep as peaceful as an angel, and I folded my hands and shut my eyes,
+and wondered what his beautiful name would be, and if he'd be a dook or a
+marquis. I incline to a dook myself, having, so to speak, fallen in love
+with the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton of blessed memory. But what do
+you think happened? It's enough to cure a body, that it is."
+
+"Well, what?" asked nurse.
+
+"I dreamt of no man in the creation except John there. If that isn't
+enough to make a body sick, and to cure all their romance once and for
+ever, my name ain't Betty Snowden."
+
+John laughed and turned a dull red at this unexpected ending to Betty's
+story.
+
+"Now let's clean up," she said; "and don't twit me any more about my
+dreams. They were shattered, so to speak, in the moment of victory."
+
+The children were called in, particularly Briar and Patty, and the room
+was made quite fresh and sweet, the carpet taken up, the floor scrubbed,
+a new rug (bought long ago for the auspicious moment) put down, white
+curtains hung at the windows in place of the dreadful old moreen, every
+book dusted and put in its place, and the papers piled up in orderly
+fashion on a wagonette which was moved into the room for the purpose.
+Finally the children and servants gazed around them with an air of
+appreciation.
+
+"He can't help liking it," said Briar.
+
+"I wonder if he will," said Patty.
+
+"What nonsense, Patty! Father is human, after all, and we have not
+disturbed one single blessed thing."
+
+Soon wheels were heard, and the children rushed out to greet their
+returning parent.
+
+"How is Pauline, father?" asked Briar in an anxious voice.
+
+"Pauline?" replied Mr. Dale, pushing his thin hand abstractedly through
+his thin locks. "What of her? Isn't she here?"
+
+"Nonsense, father!" said Patty. "You went to see her. She was very ill;
+she was nearly drowned. You know all about it. Wake up, dad, and tell us
+how she is."
+
+"To be sure," said Mr. Dale. "I quite recall the circumstance now. Your
+sister is much better. I left her in bed, a little flushed, but looking
+very well and pretty. Pauline promises to be quite a pretty girl. She has
+improved wonderfully of late. Verena was there, too, and Pen, and your
+good aunt. Yes, I saw them all. Comfortable lodgings enough for those who
+don't care for books. From what I saw of your sister she did not seem to
+be at all seriously ill, and I cannot imagine why I was summoned. Don't
+keep me now, my dears; I must get back to my work. The formation of that
+last sentence from Plato's celebrated treatise doesn't please me. It
+lacks the extreme polish of the original. My dear Briar, how you stare!
+There is no possible reason, Briar and Patty, why the English translation
+should not be every bit as pure as the Greek. Our language has extended
+itself considerably of late, and close application and study may recall
+to my mind the most fitting words. But there is one thing certain, my
+dear girls---- Ah! is that you, nurse? Miss Pauline is better. I was
+talking about Plato, nurse. The last translation I have been making from
+his immortal work does not please me; but toil--ceaseless toil--the
+midnight oil, _et cetera_, may evoke the spirit of the true Muse, and I
+may be able to put the matter before the great English thinking public in
+a way worthy of the immortal master."
+
+Mr. Dale had now pushed his hat very far back from his forehead. He
+removed it, still quite abstractedly, and retired with long, shuffling
+strides to his beloved study.
+
+"No food until I ring for it," he said when he reached the door, and then
+he vanished.
+
+"Blessed man!" said Betty, who was standing in the far distance. "He
+might be a dook himself for all his airs. It was lovely the way he
+clothed his thoughts that time. What they be themselves I don't know, but
+his language was most enthralling. John, get out of my way. What are you
+standing behind me like that for? Get along and weed the garden--do."
+
+"You'll give me a cup of tea, and tell me more about that dream of
+yours," was John's answer.
+
+Whereupon Betty took John by the hand, whisked into her kitchen, slammed
+the door after her, and planted him down on a wooden seat, and then
+proceeded to make tea.
+
+But while John and Betty were happily engaged in pleasant converse with
+each other, Mr. Dale's condition was by no means so favorable. At first
+when he entered his study he saw nothing unusual. His mind was far too
+loftily poised to notice such sublunary matters as white curtains and
+druggets not in tatters; but when he seated himself at his desk, and
+stretched out his hand mechanically to find his battered old edition of
+Plato, it was not in its accustomed place. He looked around him, raised
+his eyes, put his hand to his forehead, and, still mechanically, but with
+a dawning of fright on his face, glanced round the room. What did he see?
+He started, stumbled to his feet, turned deathly white, and rushed to the
+opposite bookcase. There was his Plato--his idol--actually placed in the
+bookshelf upside-down. It was a monstrous crime--a crime that he felt he
+could never forgive--that no one could expect him to forgive. He walked
+across to the fireplace and rang the bell.
+
+"You must go, Miss Patty," said nurse. "I was willing to do it, but I
+can't face him. You must go; you really must."
+
+"Well, I'm not frightened," said Patty. "Come on, Briar."
+
+The two little girls walked down the passage. Mr. Dale's bell was heard
+to ring again.
+
+"Aren't you the least bit frightened, Patty?" asked Briar.
+
+"No," answered Patty, with a sigh. "If only I could get the real
+heaviness off my mind, nothing else would matter. Oh, Briar, Briar!"
+
+"Don't talk of it now," said Briar. "To-night when we are alone, when we
+are by ourselves in our own room, but not now. Come, let us answer
+father's bell."
+
+They opened the door and presented themselves--two pretty little figures
+with rosy faces and bright eyes--two neatly dressed, lady-like little
+girls.
+
+"Do you want anything, father?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Dale. "Come in and shut the door."
+
+The girls did what he told them.
+
+"Who did this?" asked the master of The Dales. He swept his hand with a
+certain majesty of gesture round the restored room. "Who brushed the
+walls? Who put those flimsies to the windows? Who touched my beloved
+books? Who was the person? Name the culprit."
+
+"There were quite a lot of us, father. We all did it," said Briar.
+
+"You all did it? You mean to tell me, little girl, that you did it?"
+
+"I dusted a lot of the books, father. I didn't injure one of them, and I
+put them back again just in the same place. My arms ached because the
+books were so heavy."
+
+"Quite right that they should ache. Do you know what injury you have done
+me?"
+
+"No," said Patty suddenly. "We made the room clean, father. It isn't
+right to live in such a dirty room. Plato wouldn't have liked it."
+
+"Now what do you mean?"
+
+Mr. Dale's white face quieted down suddenly; for his daughter--his small,
+young, ignorant daughter--to dare to mention the greatest name, in his
+opinion, of all the ages, was too much for him.
+
+"You are always talking to us about Plato," said Patty, who grew braver
+and braver as she proceeded. "You talk of Plato one day, and Virgil
+another day, and you always tell us how great they were; but if they were
+really great they would not be dirty, and this room was horrid and dirty,
+father. It really was. Nice, great, good, noble people are clean. Aunt
+Sophy says so, and she knows. Since Aunt Sophy came we have been very
+happy, and the house has been clean and nice. And I love Aunt Sophy, and
+so does Briar. I am very sorry, father, but I think when we made your
+room sweet and pretty as it is now we pleased Plato and Virgil--that is,
+if they can see us."
+
+"If Plato and Virgil can see mites like you?" said Mr. Dale.
+
+He took up his spectacles, poised them on his forehead, and gazed at the
+children.
+
+"There is the door," he said. "Go."
+
+They vanished. Mr. Dale sank into a chair.
+
+"Upon my word!" he said several times. "Upon--my--word! So Plato liked
+things clean, and Virgil liked things orderly. Upon--my--word!"
+
+He sat perfectly motionless for a time. His brain was working, for his
+glasses were sometimes removed and then put on again, and several times
+he brushed his hand through his hair. Finally he took up his hat, and,
+gazing at the frills of the white window-curtains, he opened the French
+windows, and, with an agile leap, found himself in the open air. He went
+for a walk--a long one. When he came back he entered his clean study, to
+find the lamp burning brightly, his Plato restored to its place by his
+left-hand side, and a fresh pad of blotting-paper on the table. His own
+old pen was not removed, but the inkpot was clean and filled with fresh
+ink. He took his pen, dipped it into the ink, and wrote on a sheet of
+paper, "Plato likes things clean, and Virgil likes things orderly," and
+then pinned the paper on the opposite wall.
+
+For the rest of the evening the astonished household were much beguiled
+and overcome by the most heavenly strains from Mr. Dale's violin. He
+played it in the study until quite late at night; but none of the
+household went to bed, so divine, so restoring, so comforting was that
+music.
+
+About eleven o'clock Patty and Briar found themselves alone.
+
+"Well," said Patty suddenly, "I have made up my mind."
+
+"Yes," said Briar, "I thought you had."
+
+"When Aunt Sophy comes back I am going to tell her everything."
+
+Briar went up to her sister, put her arms round her neck, and kissed her.
+
+"I wonder what she will say," said Briar.
+
+"Say!" echoed Patty. "She will be hurt. Perhaps she'll punish us; but
+that doesn't matter, for in the end she is quite, quite certain to
+forgive us. I am going to tell her. I couldn't go through another night
+like last night again."
+
+"Nor could I," said Briar. "I stayed awake and thought of Paulie, and I
+seemed to see her face as it might look if she were really dead. I wish
+they'd all come back, for Paulie is better. And then we'd have just a
+dreadful ten minutes, and everything would be all right."
+
+"That's it," said Patty. "Everything would be all right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+"YOU ARE NOT TO TELL."
+
+
+Pauline was certainly better, although she was not what she was before.
+In body she was to all appearance quite well. She ate heartily, took long
+walks, and slept soundly at night; but she was dull. She seldom laughed;
+she took little interest in anything. As to the sea, she had a positive
+horror of it. When she went out for walks she invariably chose inland
+directions. She liked to walk briskly over the great moors which surround
+Easterhaze, and to sit there and think, though nobody knew what she was
+thinking about. Her face now and then looked pathetic, but on the whole
+it was indifferent. Miss Tredgold was much concerned. She made up her
+mind.
+
+"The seaside is doing the child no good," she thought. "I will take her
+straight back home. She is certainly not herself; she got a much greater
+shock than we knew of or had any idea of. When she gets home the sight of
+the other children and the old place will rouse her. She is not
+consumptive at the present moment. That is one thing to be thankful for.
+I shall take her to London for the winter. If going back to The Dales
+does not arouse her, she must go somewhere else, for roused she certainly
+must be."
+
+Miss Tredgold, having made up her mind, spoke to Verena.
+
+"We are going home to-morrow, Verena," she said.
+
+"And a very good thing," answered the young girl.
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"I do, Aunt Sophy. Pauline has got all she can get out of the sea at
+present. She does not love the sea; she is afraid of it. She may be
+better when she is home."
+
+"And yet she is well," said Miss Tredgold. "The doctor pronounces her in
+perfect health."
+
+"In body she is certainly well," said Verena.
+
+"Oh, then, you have observed it?"
+
+"Yes, I have," replied Verena slowly. "There is some part of her stunned.
+I can't make out myself what ails her, but there is undoubtedly one part
+of her stunned."
+
+"We will take her home," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+The good lady was a person of very direct action and keen resource. She
+had whisked Pauline and Verena off to the sea almost at a moment's
+notice, and quite as quickly she brought them back. They were all glad to
+go. Even Pen was pleased. Pen looked very still and solemn and contented
+during these days. She sat close to Pauline and looked into her eyes over
+and over again; and Pauline never resented her glance, and seemed to be
+more pleased to be with Penelope than with anybody else.
+
+The nice landau which Miss Tredgold had purchased met the travellers at
+Lyndhurst Road, and the first piece of news which Briar, who had come to
+meet them, announced was that the ponies had arrived.
+
+"Peas-blossom and Lavender are so sweet!" she said. "They came yesterday.
+We are quite longing to ride them. As to Peas-blossom, he is quite the
+dearest pony I ever looked at in my life."
+
+"Peas-blossom will be Pauline's special pony," said Miss Tredgold
+suddenly. "Do you happen to know if the sidesaddles have arrived?"
+
+"Oh, yes, they have; and the habits, too," said Briar. "It is
+delicious--delicious!"
+
+"Then, Pauline, my dear, you shall have a ride to-morrow morning."
+
+Pauline scarcely replied. She did not negative the idea of the ride, but
+neither did she accept it with any enthusiasm.
+
+There was a wild moment when the entire family were reassembled. All the
+girls surrounded Pauline, and kissed her and hugged her as though she had
+come back from the dead.
+
+"You quite forget," said Penelope, "that I was nearly drownded, too. I
+was very nearly shutting up of my eyes, and closing of my lips, and
+stretching myself out and lying drownded and still on the top of the
+waves. I was in as big a danger as Pauline, every bit."
+
+"But you didn't get ill afterwards, as Paulie did," said the other girls.
+
+They kissed Pen, for, being their sister, they had to love her after a
+fashion; but their real adoration and deepest sympathy were centred round
+Pauline.
+
+Meanwhile Pen, who never cared to find herself neglected, ran off to
+discover nurse.
+
+"Well," she said when she saw that worthy, "here I am. I'm not pale now.
+I am rosy. The seaside suits me. The salty waves and the sands, they all
+agrees with me. How are you, nursey?"
+
+"Very well," replied nurse, "and glad to see you again."
+
+"And how is Marjorie? Kiss me, Marjorie."
+
+She snatched up her little sister somewhat roughly.
+
+"Don't make the darling cry," said nurse.
+
+"All right," replied Pen. "Sit down, baby; I have no time to 'tend you.
+Nursey, when I was at the sea I was a very 'portant person."
+
+"Were you indeed. Miss Pen? But you always think yourself that. And how
+is Miss Pauline?"
+
+"Paulie?" said Penelope. "She's bad."
+
+"Bad!" echoed nurse.
+
+"Yes, all-round bad," said Penelope.
+
+As she spoke she formed her mouth into a round O, and looked with big
+eyes at nurse.
+
+"The seaside didn't agree with her," said Pen. "Nor does the fuss, nor
+the petting, nor the nice food, nor anything else of that sort. The only
+thing that agrees with Paulie is me. She likes to have me with her, and I
+understand her. But never mind about Paulie now. I want to ask you a
+question. Am I the sort of little girl that lions would crunch up?"
+
+"I never!" cried nurse. "You are the queerest child!"
+
+"But am I, nursey? Speak."
+
+"I suppose so, Miss Pen."
+
+"I thought so," answered Pen, with a sigh. "I thought as much. I am bad
+through and through, then. They never eat good uns. You know that, don't
+you, nursey? They wouldn't touch Marjorie, though she is so round and so
+white and so fat; and they wouldn't look at Adelaide or Josephine, or any
+of those dull ones of the family; but they'd eat me up, and poor Paulie.
+Oh! they'd have a nice meal on Paulie. Thank you, nursey. I am glad I
+know."
+
+"What is the child driving at?" thought nurse as Penelope marched away.
+"Would lions crunch her up, and would they crunch up Miss Paulie? Mercy
+me! I wouldn't like any of us to be put in their way. I do hope Miss Pen
+won't go off her head after a time; she is too queer for anything. But
+what is wrong with Miss Pauline? I don't like what she said about Miss
+Pauline."
+
+When nurse saw Pauline she liked matters even less. For though her dearly
+beloved young lady looked quite well in health, her eyes were no longer
+bright, and she did not take the slightest interest in the different
+things which the children had to show her. When asked if she would not
+like to visit the stables, now in perfect restoration, and see for
+herself those darling, most angelic creatures that went by the names of
+Peas-blossom and Lavender, she said she was tired and would rather sit in
+the rocking-chair on the lawn.
+
+The others, accompanied by Aunt Sophia, went off to view the ponies; and
+then at the last moment Pen came back. She flung herself on the ground at
+Pauline's feet.
+
+"I has quite made up my mind for ever and ever," she said. "Not even
+lions will drag it from me."
+
+"What?" asked Pauline.
+
+"Why, all that I know: about who stole the thimble, and about the picnic
+on the birthday, and about what Briar and Patty did, and about you,
+Paulie, and all your wicked, wicked ways. I meant to tell once, but I
+will never tell now. So cheer up; even lions won't drag it from me."
+
+Pauline put her hand to her forehead.
+
+"I keep having these stupid headaches," she said. "They come and go, and
+whenever I want to think they get worse. I suppose I have been very bad,
+and that all you say is right, but somehow I can't think it out. Only
+there is one thing, Pen--if I were you I wouldn't do wrong any more. It
+isn't worth while."
+
+"It is quite worth while getting you cheered up," said Pen, "so I thought
+I'd let you know."
+
+That same evening Briar and Patty held a consultation in their own room.
+
+"We must do it after breakfast to-morrow," said Patty.
+
+Just then there was a slight rustle. Briar paused to listen.
+
+"Those horrid mice have come back again," she said. "We must get
+Tiddledywinks to spend a night or two in this room."
+
+"Oh, bother the mice!" was Patty's response. "Let us arrange when we must
+see her."
+
+"I have planned it all out," said Briar. "We must tell her just
+everything we know. She won't be so terribly angry with Paulie, because
+poor Paulie is not well. But I suppose she will punish us terribly. I
+have been thinking what our punishment ought to be."
+
+"What?" asked Patty.
+
+"Why, not to ride either of the ponies until after Christmas."
+
+"Oh! don't tell her to do that," said Patty, in some alarm. "I have been
+so pining for my rides."
+
+"There's that mouse again," said Briar.
+
+The children now looked under the little beds, and under the farther one
+there was something which would certainly have preferred to be thought an
+enormous mouse. On being dragged to the front, the stout, dishevelled
+figure of Penelope Dale was discovered.
+
+"I comed a-purpose," said Pen, who did not look the least taken aback. "I
+saw by your faces that you were up to fun, and I thought I'd like to be
+in it. It is well I comed. I am willing to talk to you about everything.
+Call me a mouse if you like. I don't care. I meant to listen. I am glad I
+comed."
+
+"You are too mean for anything," said Briar. "You are the horridest girl
+I ever came across. Why did you dare to hide under my bed in order to
+listen to what I had to say to Patty?"
+
+"I knew it all afore," said Penelope, "so that wasn't why I comed. I
+comed to keep you from doing mischief. What are you going to tell
+to-morrow?"
+
+"That isn't your business," said Briar.
+
+"But I am going to make it my business. What you have to tell isn't news
+to me. You are going to 'fess 'cos of the pain in your little hearts. You
+must keep your pain, and you must not 'fess. You are going to tell Aunt
+Sophy about that wicked, wicked birthday night--how you stole away in the
+dark across the lawn, and wore your Glengarry caps, and how you didn't
+come back until the morning. But you mustn't tell. Do you hear me, Briar
+and Patty?"
+
+"But why not? Why should you talk to us like that?" asked Patty. "Why
+shouldn't we say exactly what we like?"
+
+"You mustn't tell 'cos of Paulie. She is ill--more ill than you think.
+She mustn't be punished, nor fretted, nor teased, nor worrited. If you
+tell it will worrit her, so you mustn't tell. Why do you want to tell?
+You have kept it dark a long time now."
+
+"Because we are unhappy," said Patty then. "We haven't got hard hearts
+like yours. My heart aches so badly that I can't sleep at nights for
+thinking of the lies I've told and how wicked I am."
+
+"Pooh!" said Penelope. "Keep your achy hearts; don't worrit."
+
+"But it's past bearing," said Briar. "What we feel is remorse. We must
+tell. The Bible is full of the wickedness of people not confessing their
+sins. We can't help ourselves. We are obliged to tell."
+
+"Just because you have a bit of pain," said Pen in a tone of deepest
+contempt. "I suppose you think I never have any pain. Little you know. I
+have done a lot of wicked things. I consider myself much the most
+desperate wicked of the family. Your little pains is only pin-pricks
+compared to mine. It would relieve me to tell, but I love Paulie too
+much, so I won't. We have all got to hold our tongues for the present.
+Now good-night. I am not a mouse, nor a rat, nor a ferret. But I mean
+what I say. You are not to tell."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+DECEITFUL GIRLS.
+
+
+Miss Tredgold was dreadfully puzzled to know what to make of the girls.
+The time was autumn now; all pretense of summer had disappeared. Autumn
+had arrived and was very windy and wet, and the girls could no longer
+walk in twos and twos on the pretty lawn. They had to keep to the walks,
+and even these walks were drenched, as day after day deluges of rain fell
+from the heavens. The Forest, too, was sodden with the fallen leaves, and
+even the ponies slipped as they cantered down the glades. Altogether it
+was a most chilling, disappointing autumn, winter setting in, so to
+speak, all at once. Verena said she never remembered such an early season
+of wintry winds and sobbing skies. The flowers disappeared, several of
+the Forest trees were rooted up in consequence of the terrible gales, and
+Miss Tredgold said it was scarcely safe for the children to walk there.
+
+"The best cure for weather of this sort," she said to herself, "is to
+give the young people plenty to do indoors."
+
+Accordingly she reorganized lessons in a very brisk and up-to-date
+fashion. She arranged that a good music-master was to come twice a week
+from Southampton. Mistresses for languages were also to arrive from the
+same place. A pretty little pony-cart which she bought for the purpose
+conveyed these good people to and from Lyndhurst Road station. Besides
+this, she asked one or two visitors to come and stay in the house, and
+tried to plan as comfortable and nice a winter as she could. Verena
+helped her, and the younger girls were pleased and interested; and Pen
+did what she was told, dashing about here and there, and making
+suggestions, and trying to make herself as useful as she could.
+
+"The child is improved," said Miss Tredgold to Verena. "She is quite
+obliging and unselfish."
+
+Verena said nothing.
+
+"What do you think of my new plans, Verena?" said her aunt. "Out-of-door
+life until the frost comes is more or less at a standstill. Beyond the
+mere walking for health, we do not care to go out of doors in this wet
+and sloppy weather. But the house is large. I mean always to have one or
+two friends here, sometimes girls to please you other girls, sometimes
+older people to interest me. I should much like to have one or two
+_savants_ down to talk over their special studies with your father; but
+that can doubtless be arranged by-and-by. I want us to have cheerful
+winter evenings--evenings for reading, evenings for music. I want you
+children to learn at least the rudiments of good acting, and I mean to
+have two or three plays enacted here during the winter. In short, if you
+will all help me, we can have a splendid time."
+
+"Oh, I will help you," said Verena. "But," she added, "I have no talent
+for acting; it is Paulie who can act so well."
+
+"I wish your sister would take an interest in things, Verena. She is
+quite well in body, but she is certainly not what she was before her
+accident."
+
+"I don't understand Pauline," said Verena, shaking her head.
+
+"Nor do I understand her. Once or twice I thought I would get a good
+doctor to see her, but I have now nearly resolved to leave it to time to
+restore her."
+
+"But the other girls--can you understand the other girls, Aunt Sophy?"
+asked Verena.
+
+"Understand them, my dear? What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean the younger ones--Adelaide and Lucy and the others. I
+mean Briar and Patty. They are not a bit what they were."
+
+"Now that you remark it, I have noticed that they are very grave; but
+they always do their lessons well, and I have nothing to complain of with
+regard to their conduct."
+
+"Nor have you anything to complain of with regard to Paulie's conduct,"
+said Verena. "It isn't that."
+
+"Then what is it, my dear?"
+
+"It is that they are not natural. There is something on their minds. I am
+certain of it."
+
+"Verena," said her aunt gently, "I wonder if I might confide in you."
+
+Verena started back; a distressed look came over her face.
+
+"If it happens to be anything against Paulie, perhaps I had better not
+hear," she said.
+
+"I do not know if it is for her or against her. I am as much in the dark
+as you. I have not spoken of it yet to any one else, but I should like to
+mention it to you. It seems to me that light ought to be thrown on some
+rather peculiar circumstances or your sister will never get back her old
+brightness and gaiety of heart."
+
+"Then if you think so, please tell me, Aunt Sophy," said Verena.
+
+She got up as she spoke and shut the door. She was a very bright and
+pretty-looking girl, but her face sometimes wore too old a look for her
+age. Her aunt looked at her now with a mingling of affection and
+compassion.
+
+"Come," she said, "sit on this sofa, darling. We can understand each
+other better when we are close together. You know how much I love you,
+Renny."
+
+"There never, never was a better aunt," said the girl.
+
+"I am not that. But I do love you. Now, dear, I will tell you. You
+remember when first I came?"
+
+"Oh, don't I? And how angry we were!"
+
+"Poor children! I don't wonder. But don't you think, Verena, I was a very
+brave woman to put myself into such a hornet's nest?"
+
+"Indeed you were wonderful. It was your bravery that first attracted me.
+Then I saw how good you were, and how kindly you meant, and everything
+else became easy."
+
+"But was it equally easy for Pauline?"
+
+"I--I don't know. I am sure I do know, however, that now she loves you
+very much."
+
+"Ah! now," said Miss Tredgold. "But what about the early time?"
+
+"I don't quite know."
+
+"Verena, if I am to be frank with you, you must be frank with me."
+
+"I think perhaps she was not won round to you quite as easily as I was."
+
+"You are right, my dear. It was harder to win her; but she is worth
+winning. I shall not rest until I bring her round altogether to my side.
+Now, little girl, listen. You know what a very odd child we are all
+forced to consider your sister Pen?"
+
+"I should think so, indeed." Verena laughed.
+
+"Well, your sister found out one day, not very long after I came, that I
+had lost a thimble."
+
+"Your beautiful gold thimble? Of course we all knew about that," said
+Verena. "We were all interested, and we all tried to find it."
+
+"I thought so. I knew that Pen in particular searched for it with
+considerable pains, and I offered her a small prize if she found it."
+
+Verena laughed.
+
+"Poor Pen!" she said. "She nearly broke her back one day searching for
+it. Oh, Aunt Sophy! I hope you will learn to do without it, for I am
+greatly afraid that it will not be found now."
+
+"And yet, Verena," said Miss Tredgold--and she laid her hand, which
+slightly shook, on the girl's arm--"I could tell you of a certain person
+in this house to whom a certain dress belongs, and unless I am much
+mistaken, in the pocket of that dress reposes the thimble with its
+sapphire base, its golden body, and its rim of pale-blue turquoise."
+
+"Aunt Sophy! What do you mean?"
+
+Verena's eyes were wide open, and a sort of terror filled them.
+
+"Don't start, dear. That person is your sister Pauline."
+
+"Oh! Pauline! Impossible! Impossible!" cried Verena.
+
+"It is true, nevertheless. Do you remember that day when she was nearly
+drowned?"
+
+"Can I forget it?"
+
+"The next morning I was in her room, and the servant brought in the
+dark-blue serge dress she wore, which had been submerged so long in the
+salt water. It had been dried, and she was bringing it back. The girl
+held in her hand the thimble--the thimble of gold and sapphire and
+turquoise. She held the thimble in the palm of her hand, and said, 'I
+found it in the pocket of the young lady's dress. It is injured, but the
+jeweller can put it right again.' You can imagine my feelings. For a time
+I was motionless, holding the thimble in my hand. Then I resolved to put
+it back where it had been found. I have heard nothing of it since from
+any one. I don't suppose Pauline has worn that skirt again; the thimble
+is doubtless there."
+
+"Oh, may I run and look? May I?"
+
+"No, no; leave it in its hiding-place. Do you think the thimble matters
+to me? What does matter is this--that Pauline should come and tell me,
+simply and quietly, the truth."
+
+"She will. She must. I feel as if I were in a dream. I can scarcely
+believe this can be true."
+
+"Alas! my dear, it is. And there is another thing. I know what little
+trinkets you each possess, for you showed them to me when first I came.
+Have you any reason to believe, Verena, that Pauline kept one trinket
+back from my knowledge?"
+
+"Oh, no, Aunt Sophy; of course she did not. Pauline has fewer trinkets
+than any of us, and she is fond of them. She is not particularly fond of
+gay clothes, but she always did like shiny, ornamenty things."
+
+"When she was ill I saw round her neck a narrow gold chain, to which a
+little heart-shaped locket was attached. Do you know of such a locket, of
+such a chain?"
+
+"No."
+
+Miss Tredgold rose to her feet.
+
+"Verena," she said, "things must come to a climax. Pauline must be forced
+to tell. For her own sake, and for the sake of others, we must find out
+what is at the back of things. Until we do the air will not be cleared. I
+had an idea of taking you to London for this winter, but I shall not do
+so this side of Christmas at any rate. I want us all to have a good time,
+a bright time, a happy time. We cannot until this mystery is explained. I
+am certain, too, that Pen knows more than she will say. She always was a
+curious, inquisitive child. Now, until the time of the accident Pen was
+always pursuing me and giving me hints that she had something to confide.
+I could not, of course, allow the little girl to tell tales, and I always
+shut her up. But from the time of the accident she has altered. She is
+now a child on the defensive. She watches Pauline as if she were guarding
+her against something. I am not unobservant, and I cannot help seeing.
+From what you tell me, your sisters Briar and Patty are also implicated.
+My dear Verena, we must take steps."
+
+"Yes," said Verena. "But what steps?"
+
+"Let me think. It has relieved my mind to tell you even this much. You
+will keep your own counsel. I will talk to you again to-morrow morning."
+
+Verena felt very uncomfortable. Of all the Dales she was the most open,
+in some ways the most innocent. She thought well of all the world. She
+adored her sisters and her father, and now also her aunt, Miss Tredgold.
+She was the sort of girl who would walk through life without a great deal
+of sorrow or a great deal of perplexity. The right path would attract
+her; the wrong would always be repellent to her. Temptation, therefore,
+would not come in a severe guise to Verena Dale. She was guarded against
+it by the sweetness and purity and innocence of her nature. But now for
+the first time it seemed to the young girl that the outlook was dark. Her
+aunt's words absolutely bewildered her. Her aunt suspected Pauline, Pen,
+Briar, and Patty of concealing something. But what had they to conceal?
+It is true that when Aunt Sophia first arrived they had felt a certain
+repugnance to her society, a desire to keep out of her way, and a longing
+for the old wild, careless, slovenly days. But surely long ere this such
+foolish ideas had died a natural death. They all loved Aunt Sophia now;
+what could they have to conceal?
+
+"I dare not talk about it to the younger girls. I don't want to get into
+Pen's confidence. Pen, of all the children, suits me least. The people to
+whom I must appeal are therefore Briar or Patty, or Pauline herself.
+Patty and Briar are devoted to each other. The thought in one heart seems
+to have its counterpart in that of the other. They might even be twins,
+so deeply are they attached. No; the only one for me to talk to is
+Pauline. But what can I say to her? And Pauline is not well. At least,
+she is well and she is not well. Nevertheless I will go and see her. I
+will find her now."
+
+Verena went into the nursery. Pauline was sometimes there. She was fond
+of sitting by the cosy nursery fire with a book in her hand, which of
+late she only pretended to read. Verena opened the nursery door and poked
+in her bright head and face.
+
+"Come in, Miss Renny, come in," said nurse.
+
+"I am not going to stay, nurse. Ah, Marjorie, my pet! Come and give me a
+sweet kiss."
+
+The little baby sister toddled across the floor. Verena lifted her in her
+arms and kissed her affectionately.
+
+"I thought perhaps Miss Pauline was here, nurse. Do you happen to know
+where she is?"
+
+"Miss Pauline has a very bad headache," said nurse--"so bad that I made
+her go and lie down; and I have just lit a bit of fire in her bedroom,
+for she is chilly, too, poor pet! Miss Pauline hasn't been a bit herself
+since that nasty accident."
+
+"I am sure she hasn't; but I did not know she was suffering from
+headache. I will go to her."
+
+Verena ran along the passage. Her own room faced south; Pauline's,
+alongside of it, had a window which looked due east. Verena softly opened
+the door. The chamber was tiny, but it was wonderfully neat and cheerful.
+A bright fire burned in the small grate. Pauline was lying partly over on
+her side; her face was hidden. Her dark hair was tumbled about the
+pillow.
+
+"Paulie, it is I," said Verena. "Are you awake?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Pauline.
+
+She turned round almost cheerfully. A cloud seemed to vanish from her
+face.
+
+"I am so glad you have come, Renny," she said. "I see so little of you
+lately. Get up on the bed, won't you, and lie near me?"
+
+"Of course I love to be with you, but I thought----"
+
+"Oh! don't think anything," said Pauline. "Just get on the bed and cuddle
+up close, close to me. And let us imagine that we are back in the old
+happy days before Aunt Sophy came."
+
+Verena did not say anything. She got on the bed, flung her arms round
+Pauline's neck, and strained her sister to her heart.
+
+"I love you so much!" she said.
+
+"Do you, Renny? That is very, very sweet of you."
+
+"And you love me, don't you, Paulie?"
+
+"I--I don't know."
+
+"Pauline! You don't know? You don't know if you love me or not?"
+
+"I don't think that I love anybody, Renny."
+
+"Oh, Paulie! then there must be something dreadfully bad the matter with
+you."
+
+Pauline buried her face in Verena's soft white neck and lay quiet.
+
+"Does your head ache very badly, Paulie?"
+
+"Pretty badly; but it is not too bad for us to talk--that is, if you will
+keep off the unpleasant subjects."
+
+"But what unpleasant subjects can there be? I don't understand you,
+Paulie. I cannot think of anything specially unpleasant to talk of now."
+
+"You are a bit of a goose, you know," replied Pauline with a smile.
+
+"Am I? I didn't know it. But what are the subjects we are not to talk
+about?"
+
+"Oh, you must know! Aunt Sophia, for instance, and that awful time at
+Easterhaze, and the most terrible of all terrible days when I went to the
+White Bay, and Nancy King, and--and my birthday. I can't talk of these
+subjects. I will talk of anything else--of baby Marjorie, and how pretty
+she grows; how fond we are of nurse, and of father, and--oh!"
+
+Pauline burst into a little laugh.
+
+"Do you know that John is courting Betty? I know he is. He went up to her
+the other day in the garden and put his hand on her shoulder, and when he
+thought no one was by he kissed her. I hid behind the hedge, and I had
+the greatest difficulty to keep back a shout of merriment. Isn't it fun?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Verena. "But, Pauline, what you say makes me
+unhappy. I wish I might talk out to you."
+
+Pauline raised herself on her elbow and looked full into Verena's face.
+
+"What about?" she asked.
+
+Verena did not speak for a minute.
+
+"Where are your dresses?" she asked suddenly.
+
+"My dresses! You silly girl! In that cupboard, of course. I am getting
+tidy. You know I would do anything I possibly could to please Aunt Sophy.
+I can't do big things to please her--I never shall be able to--so I do
+little things. I am so tidy that I am spick-and-span. I hate and loathe
+it; but I wouldn't leave a pin about for anything. You open that door and
+look for yourself. Do you see my skirts?"
+
+Verena got off the bed and opened the cupboard door. Pauline had about
+half-a-dozen skirts, and they all hung neatly on their respective hooks.
+Amongst them was the thick blue serge which she had worn on the day when
+she had gone to the White Bay. Verena felt her heart beating fast. She
+felt the color rush into her cheeks. She paused for a moment as if to
+commune with her own heart. Then her mind was made up.
+
+"What are you doing, Renny?" said her sister. "How funny of you to have
+gone into the cupboard!"
+
+For Verena had absolutely vanished. She stood in the cupboard, and
+Pauline from the bed heard a rustle. The rustling grew louder, and
+Pauline wondered what it meant. A moment later Verena, her face as red as
+a turkey-cock, came out.
+
+"Paulie," she said--"Paulie, there is no good going on like this. You
+have got to explain. You have got to get a load off your mind. You have
+got to do it whether you like it or not. How did you come by this?
+How--did--you--come--by--this?"
+
+As Verena spoke she held in her open palm the long-lost thimble. Poor
+Pauline had not the most remote idea that the thimble was still in the
+pocket of the blue serge dress. She had, indeed, since the day of her
+accident, forgotten its existence.
+
+"Where did you get it?" she asked, her face very white, her eyes very
+startled.
+
+"In the pocket of the dress you wore on the day you were nearly drowned
+in the White Bay."
+
+"I told you not to mention that day," said Pauline. Her whole face
+changed. "I remember," she said slowly, but she checked herself. The
+words reached her lips, but did not go beyond them. "Put it down,
+Verena," she said. "Put it there on the mantelpiece."
+
+"Then you won't tell me how you got it? It is not yours. You know it
+belongs to Aunt Sophy."
+
+"And it is not yours, Renny, and you have no right to interfere. And what
+is more, I desire you not to interfere. I don't love anybody very much
+now, but I shall hate you if you interfere in this matter."
+
+Verena laid the thimble on the mantelpiece.
+
+"You can leave me, Renny. I am a very bad girl; I don't pretend I am
+anything else, but I won't talk to you now."
+
+"Oh!" said poor Verena. "Oh!"
+
+Before she reached the door of the room she had burst into tears. Her
+agony was so great at Pauline's behavior to her that her tears became
+sobs, and her sobs almost cries of pain. Pauline, lying on the bed, did
+not take the least notice of Verena. She turned her head away, and when
+her sister had left the room and shut the door Pauline sprang from the
+bed and turned the key in the lock.
+
+"Now, I am safe," she thought. "What is the matter with me? There never
+was anything so hard as the heart that is inside me. I don't care a bit
+whether Renny cries or whether she doesn't cry. I don't care a bit what
+happens to any one. I only want to be let alone."
+
+At dinner-time Pauline appeared, and tried to look as though nothing had
+happened. The other girls looked neat and pretty. They had not the least
+idea through what a tragedy Verena and Pauline were now living. Verena
+showed marks of her storm of weeping, and her face was terribly
+woebegone. Miss Tredgold guessed that things were coming to a crisis, and
+she was prepared to wait.
+
+Now, Miss Tredgold was a very good woman; she was also a very wise and a
+very temperate one. She was filled with a spirit of forbearance, and with
+the beautiful grace of charity. She was all round as good a woman as ever
+lived; but she was not a mother. Had she been a mother she would have
+gone straight to Pauline and put her arms round her, and so acted that
+the hard little heart would have melted, and the words that could not
+pass her lips would have found themselves able to do so, and the misery
+and the further sin would have been averted. But instead of doing
+anything of this sort, Miss Tredgold resolved to assemble the children
+after breakfast the next day, and to talk to them in a very plain way
+indeed; to assemble all before her, and to entreat the guilty ones to
+confess, promising them absolute forgiveness in advance. Having made up
+her mind, she felt quite peaceful and happy, and went down to interview
+her brother-in-law.
+
+Mr. Dale still continued to like his study. He made no further objection
+to the clean and carefully dusted room. If any one had asked him what was
+passing in his mind, he might have said that the spirits of Homer and
+Virgil approached the sacred precincts where he wrote about them and
+lived for them night after night, and that they put the place in order.
+He kept the rough words which he had printed in large capitals on the
+night when he had returned to his study still in their place of honor on
+the wall, and he worked himself with a new sense of zest and freedom.
+
+Miss Tredgold entered the room without knocking.
+
+"Well, Henry," she said, "and how goes the world?"
+
+"The world of the past comes nearer and nearer," was his reply. "I often
+feel that I scarcely touch the earth of the nineteenth century. The world
+of the past is a very lovely world."
+
+"Not a bit better than the world of the present," said Miss Sophia. "Now,
+Henry, if you can come from the clouds for a minute or two----"
+
+"Eh? Ah! What are you saying?"
+
+"From the clouds, my dear brother, right down to this present prosaic and
+workaday world. Can you, and will you give me five minutes of your
+attention?"
+
+"Eh? Yes, of course, Sophia."
+
+Mr. Dale sat very still, drumming with his right hand on his pad of
+blotting-paper. Miss Tredgold looked at him; then she crossed the room,
+took away the pad, his pen and ink, the open volume of Homer, and removed
+them to another table.
+
+"Sit with your back to them; keep your mind clear and listen to me,
+Henry."
+
+"To be sure."
+
+"I want you to come into the schoolroom after breakfast to-morrow
+morning."
+
+"To the schoolroom?"
+
+"I have a reason. I should like you to be present."
+
+"But it is just my most important hour. You commence lessons with the
+girls--when, Sophia?"
+
+"We sit down to our work at nine o'clock. Prayers take ten minutes. I
+should like you to be present at prayers--to conduct Divine worship in
+your own house on that occasion."
+
+"Oh, my dear Sophia! Not that I have any objection--of course."
+
+"I should hope you have no objection. You will take prayers, and
+afterwards you will assist me in a most painful task which lies before
+me."
+
+"Painful, Sophia? Oh, anything I can do to help you, my dear sister, I
+shall be delighted to undertake. What is it? I beg of you to be brief,
+for time does fly. It was only a quarter of an hour ago that I found
+Homer----"
+
+"I could say a very ugly word about Homer," said Miss Tredgold.
+"Sometimes I wish that I were a man in order that I might swear hard at
+you, Henry Dale. As I am a woman I must refrain. Do you know that your
+daughter Pauline, your daughter Briar, your daughter Patty, and your
+extraordinary daughter Penelope are all of them about as naughty children
+as they can be. Indeed, in the case of Pauline I consider her worse than
+naughty. What she has done I don't know, and I don't know what the others
+have done; but there is a weight on their minds, and those four girls
+must be got to confess. And you must be present, and you must speak as a
+father to them. Now do you understand?"
+
+"I am to be in the schoolroom to-morrow," said Mr. Dale, "and four of my
+girls are turning wicked, and I am not to know what they have done. I
+will be in the schoolroom at nine o'clock to-morrow, Sophia. May I thank
+you to hand me back my blotting-pad, my pen and bottle of ink, and my
+beloved Homer? Take care of the volume. Take it tenderly. Put both hands
+under the binding. Ah! that is so. You will have the goodness to leave me
+now, Sophia. To-morrow morning at nine o'clock precisely."
+
+Miss Tredgold went out of the room.
+
+"How my poor dear sister ever brought herself to marry that man," she
+whispered under her breath, "I know not. But he is capable of being
+roused, and I rather fancy I shall manage to rouse him to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+PAULINE IN DISTRESS.
+
+
+When Pauline went up to her room late that evening she gave Verena a very
+cold good-night. Her little fire was still burning, for nurse had taken
+care of it. Verena heard her lock the door. Had she not done so her
+sister would have gone to her, and begged and prayed, as such a sweet
+girl might, for the confidence of Pauline. Verena had to get into bed
+feeling lonely and unhappy. Just as she was doing so she heard a firm
+step walking down the corridor. A hand turned the handle of Pauline's
+door, and Verena heard Pen's voice say:
+
+"It's me, Paulie. It's me. Let me in, Paulie."
+
+Verena instantly opened her own door.
+
+"Go away, Pen," she said. "Go straight back to your bed. You are not to
+go near Pauline to-night."
+
+"Yes, but I want her," said Pauline, opening the door and putting out her
+head.
+
+"Very well," said Verena. "You shall see her with me. I will ring the
+bell and ask nurse to fetch Aunt Sophy."
+
+Pauline gave a shrill laugh.
+
+"It isn't worth all that fuss. Go to bed, Pen. We shall have plenty of
+time for our chat to-morrow morning."
+
+Penelope looked disgusted. Verena stood in the passage until her stout
+little figure had disappeared. She then turned, hoping that Pauline would
+speak to her; but Pauline had gone into her room and locked the door.
+
+Now, Pauline Dale was at this time going through a curious phase. She was
+scarcely to be blamed for her conduct, for what she had lately lived
+through had produced a sort of numbness of her faculties, which time
+seemed to have no intention of restoring to her. To look at her face now
+no one would suppose her to be in the ordinary sense of the word an
+invalid; for she was rosy, her eyes were bright, her appetite was good,
+and she had plenty of strength. Nevertheless there was a certain part of
+her being which was numb and cold and half-dead. She was not frightened
+about anything; but she knew that she had behaved as no right-minded or
+honorable girl should have done. Verena's words that afternoon had roused
+her, and had given her a slight degree of pain. She lay down on her bed
+without undressing. She left the blind up so that the moon could shine
+through her small window, and she kept repeating to herself at intervals
+through the night the words that had haunted her when she was at
+Easterhaze: "Wash and be clean." It seemed to Pauline that the sea was
+drawing her. The insistent voice of the sea was becoming absolutely
+unpleasant. It echoed and echoed in her tired brain: "Wash--wash and be
+clean." After her accident she had hated the sea while she was there, but
+now she wanted to get back to it. She dreaded it and yet she was hungry
+for it.
+
+As she lay with her eyes wide open it seemed to her that she was looking
+at the sea. It seemed to her, too, that she really did hear the murmur of
+the waves. The waves came close, and each wave as it pressed nearer and
+nearer to the excited child repeated the old cry: "Wash and be clean."
+
+"Oh, if only I could get to the sea!" was her thought. She pressed her
+hand to that part of her forehead which felt numb and strange. All of a
+sudden the numbness and strangeness seemed to depart. She saw one vivid
+picture after another, and each picture revealed to her the sin which she
+had sinned and the wrong she had committed. At last she saw that fearful
+picture when she stood with her little sister in the White Bay, and the
+waves had so nearly drowned them. She sat up in bed. The idea of going
+straight to Aunt Sophia and of telling her everything did not occur to
+her. She wanted to get back to the sea. How could she manage this? She
+was not in the least afraid of Aunt Sophy; she was only afraid of the God
+whom she had offended. She got up, pushed back her black hair, tied it
+neatly behind her ears, and taking her little sailor-hat and her
+dark-blue serge jacket, she put them on. She would go back to the sea.
+She did not know exactly how she could manage it, but somehow she would.
+When she was dressed she opened a drawer. She must have money. Aunt
+Sophia was liberal in the matter of pocket-money, but Pauline was
+careless and spent hers as she got it. All she possessed now was a
+shilling. She put the shilling into her pocket. Turning round, she saw
+the flash of the gold thimble as it rested on the mantelpiece. She
+slipped that also into her pocket. She then opened the window, and, as
+she had done on a previous night long ago, she got out and let herself
+down to the ground. She was now out all alone about midnight. Once again
+the numb feeling had come back to her; nevertheless her mind was made up.
+She would at any cost get back to the sea.
+
+She walked across the grass. By-and-by she found herself at the
+wicket-gate. When she reached the gate she had a sudden overwhelming
+memory of Nancy King. During the last few weeks she had forgotten Nancy.
+Now she thought of her. Standing with one hand on the post of the
+wicket-gate, she reflected on an idea which presented itself to her. If
+she, Pauline, was wicked--if she had been a naughty girl from the
+first--surely Nancy was worse! If it was necessary for Pauline to wash
+and be clean, it was still more necessary for Nancy. Together they could
+visit the seaside; together lave themselves in the waves; together reach
+that beautiful state where sin did not trouble.
+
+Pauline smiled to herself. She walked through the Forest in the dead of
+night, and presently reached Nancy's home. Now, it would have been a very
+bad thing for Pauline, as it had very nearly been a bad thing for
+Penelope some weeks ago, had Lurcher been out. But Lurcher was ill, and
+had been sent to a neighboring vet.'s. And it also happened--just, as it
+were, in the nick of time--that Farmer King was returning very late from
+visiting a neighboring fair. He had been kept by a friend until past
+midnight, and had driven home through the woods. As Pauline got to the
+gate the farmer drew up his mare within a few feet of the tired girl. He
+saw a girl standing by the gate, and could not make out who she was or
+what she was doing. He said gruffly:
+
+"You get out of this. What are you doing here at this time of night?"
+
+Then Pauline raised a white face. He recognized the face, gave a
+smothered, hasty exclamation, sprang to the ground, flung the reins over
+the neck of the mare, and came towards the girl.
+
+"Miss Pauline," he said, "what in the name of all that is wonderful are
+you doing here at this hour?"
+
+Pauline looked full up at him.
+
+"You said you would help me. You said you would if ever the time came. I
+want to be helped--oh, so badly!--and I have come."
+
+"Because I said that?" exclaimed the farmer, his face flushing all over
+with intense gratification. "Then you be certain of one thing, my
+dear--sure and positive certain--that when Farmer King says a thing he
+will do it. You come straight in with me, missy--straight in with me this
+blessed minute."
+
+Pauline gave him her hand. It was quite wonderful how he soothed her, how
+her fear seemed to drop away from her, how contented and almost happy she
+felt.
+
+"You are very strong, aren't you?" she said. "You are very, very strong?"
+
+"I should about think I am. I can lift a weight with any man in England,
+cut up a sheep with any man in existence, run a race with any farmer of
+my age. Strong! Yes, you are right there, missy; I am strong--strong as
+they're made."
+
+"Then you are what I want. You will help me."
+
+The farmer opened the hall door with his latch-key. Nancy had been in bed
+for an hour or more. The farmer unlocked the door which led into the
+kitchen.
+
+"The parlor will be cold," he said, "and the drawing-room will be sort of
+musty. We don't use the drawing-room every night. But the kitchen--that
+will be all right. You come right into the kitchen, Miss Pauline, and
+then you'll tell me."
+
+He took her into the kitchen, lit a big lamp which hung over the
+fireplace, and poked the ashes in the big stove.
+
+"You do look white and trembly all over. Shall I call Nancy to see you,
+miss?"
+
+"Please, please do."
+
+Farmer King went noisily upstairs.
+
+"Nancy!" he called to his daughter. "I say, Nancy!"
+
+Nancy was in her first sleep. She opened her eyes at the sound of the
+farmer's voice, and said in a sleepy tone:
+
+"Well, what now, dad? I wish you wouldn't call me just because you come
+in late."
+
+"You get up, my girl. There's trouble downstairs. Missy has come."
+
+"Missy? Miss Pen?"
+
+"No, not Miss Pen; the other one--the one we love, both of us--the one
+who was our queen--Miss Pauline. She's downstairs, and she's shocking
+bad. She has come to me to help her."
+
+"Why, of course she's bad, father," said Nancy. "Don't you know all that
+happened? Pauline was nearly drowned at Easterhaze, and they say she
+hasn't been quite, so to say, right in her head ever since. I have been
+nearly mad about it."
+
+"Sane, you mean, to my way of thinking," exclaimed the farmer; "for you
+never said a word to me about it, eating your meals as hearty and
+contented as you please, buying your winter finery, and talking about
+going to London for Christmas. Give me a friend who will think of me when
+I am in trouble. But the lass knows what's what, and it isn't to you she
+has come; it's to me. She wants me to help her because I made her a
+promise, forsooth! But you come right down, for she will want a bit of
+cuddling from a girl like yourself. Come right down this minute and see
+her, for she badly wants some one to do something for her."
+
+Now, Nancy was really fond of Pauline, notwithstanding her father's
+words, and she got up willingly enough and ran downstairs to the kitchen;
+and when she saw her little friend sitting by the fire, looking very
+white, her head dropped forward, and her big black eyes fixed with an
+almost vacant expression straight before her, a great lot of Nancy's
+heart did go out to the sad and unhappy girl. She rushed to her side,
+threw her arms round her, and hugged her over and over again.
+
+"Come," said the farmer, "it's a bit of something to eat she wants; then
+to go upstairs and share your bed with you, Nance. And in the morning,
+why, I am at her service."
+
+"Yes, that's what you do want, isn't it, Paulie?" said Nancy.
+
+Pauline nodded. She felt almost incapable of speaking. So the farmer
+brought her food, and made her eat and drink. And then she went upstairs
+with Nancy, and Nancy made her he down by her side, and when they were
+both together in the dark, in the warm bed in the pretty room, Pauline
+flung her arms round Nancy and began to cry. It was really quite a long
+time since Pauline had cried. At first her tears came slowly and with
+great difficulty; but in a little they rained from her eyes more and more
+easily, until at last they came in torrents, and her tears hurt her and
+shook her little frame, and came faster, and yet faster, until from sheer
+exhaustion she dropped asleep. But when Pauline woke from that sleep it
+seemed to her that the numb part had greatly left her brain and that she
+could think clearly. Only, still she had no wish to go back to The Dales.
+She only wanted to wash and be clean.
+
+"You are the queerest girl that ever lived," said Nancy. "You come right
+downstairs and have breakfast. Of course, they are sure to look for you
+and try to find you, but you must come straight downstairs now and hear
+what father has got to say."
+
+Pauline got up willingly enough and went downstairs. There was a groaning
+breakfast on the board. On most occasions the farmers' servants ate below
+the salt, but now only the farmer and his daughter Nancy were present.
+
+"Here's cake worth eating," said the farmer, "and new-laid eggs worth
+taking; and here's honey the like of which is not to be found anywhere
+else, even in the New Forest. And here's chicken rissoles, and here's
+cooked ham. Now, missy, fall to--fall to."
+
+Pauline ate very little, and then she turned to the farmer.
+
+"And now you want me to help you?" he said.
+
+"I want you to take me to the seaside. I want Nancy to come, too. I want
+to go where the waves are high, and where I can wash and be clean."
+
+"My word!" said the farmer, "what does the little lass say?"
+
+"I don't want to go home. I can't go home. If I am alone with you and
+with Nancy I might get better. Don't let me go home."
+
+"My lass, my lass, you have applied to Farmer King in your trouble, and
+Farmer King won't desert you. I have not the most remote notion what
+trouble it can be that worrits a poor little lass, but, such as it is,
+Farmer King will be your friend. There is no doubt, my dear, that when
+they miss you at The Dales they will come to look for you here, and what
+am I to do?"
+
+"Hide me! Oh, hide me! I can't go home."
+
+"What a lark!" cried Nancy. "We could, couldn't we, father?"
+
+"And we won't," said the farmer, bringing his hand down with a great bang
+on the table. "What we do we'll do above-board. We did wrong that time in
+the summer when we took miss to that picnic and got her into trouble. Now
+we're bound to see her out of her trouble. It has to do with that night
+partly, hasn't it, missy?"
+
+"I have never been happy since," said Pauline.
+
+"Well, then, my dear, I said I would help you out if the time came, and I
+will. You shall stay here--I vow it--and I am just going to get on my
+horse Caesar, and I shall ride over to The Dales this blessed minute. You
+leave it to me. You leave it all to me, my dear."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+FARMER KING.
+
+
+Since Pauline's illness she had very often not been down in time for
+breakfast. The fact, therefore, that she did not appear on this special
+morning caused no excitement in the mind of any one. Miss Tredgold was so
+much absorbed in the task which lay before her that she scarcely noticed
+the little girl's absence; nurse would see to her, would take her a
+proper meal, would do all that was necessary. Very often nurse did not
+disturb Pauline until long after the others had breakfasted, for the
+doctor had said that she ought never to be wakened when asleep, and that
+she ought to have as much rest and sleep as possible. So breakfast came
+to an end. There was a weight in the air. Now, it happened that the day
+was a specially fine one, for the skies, after crying so many tears, had
+cleared up, the sun had come out, and the few flowers that were left held
+up their heads gayly and tried to forget the storm through which they had
+lived and the winter days which were before them.
+
+Mr. Dale had, of course, forgotten what he had promised his sister-in-law
+to do on the previous night. But Miss Tredgold had not the slightest idea
+of letting him off.
+
+"Come, Henry," she said; "we will go into the schoolroom to prayers."
+
+Accordingly they went, and Mr. Dale read prayers in his somewhat sleepy
+tones. The children, with the exception of Pauline, were all present. At
+last family worship was finished and the servants were allowed to leave
+the room. As nurse was going she looked at Verena.
+
+"Miss Pauline is sleeping longer than usual," she said. "She asked me a
+few days ago never to waken her, and said she would ring her bell when
+she wanted breakfast or hot water. I had better find out if she is
+awake."
+
+"Yes, do, nurse," said Miss Tredgold briskly; "and ask her to be quick
+and come downstairs. I want all the children except little Marjorie to be
+present."
+
+"Oh, my dear Sophia!" said Mr. Dale at that moment, "you cannot expect me
+to wait here with all my morning's work neglected while one of the girls
+chooses to dress herself."
+
+"Here's a very interesting paper on Plato," said Miss Tredgold suddenly,
+and as she spoke she handed Mr. Dale the last number of the _Spectator_.
+"I thought you might like to see it."
+
+"Eh? What?" he cried. "An article on Plato. By whom?"
+
+"By the great classical scholar, Professor Mahaffy," replied Miss
+Tredgold calmly.
+
+Mr. Dale was in an intense state of excitement.
+
+"When did this come?"
+
+"On Saturday morning."
+
+"But this is Wednesday. How is it I did not see it before?"
+
+"To tell you the truth, Henry, I read it and kept it back on purpose. I
+want to keep your attention until all the family are assembled. Here is
+your chair, here are your spectacles, and here is the paper."
+
+Mr. Dale took the paper, muttering to himself:
+
+"Mahaffy--Mahaffy; one of the greatest scholars of the time;" and then he
+was lost to external things.
+
+Yes, Mr. Dale of The Dales, the head of an ancient house, the father of a
+large family, forgot everything on earth except a certain disputed
+passage in which he and Professor Mahaffy diametrically disagreed. He
+continued to forget everything else, even when nurse rushed into the
+room.
+
+"Why, she has gone!" cried the good woman. "She ain't in her bed; and
+what's more, she's been out of it for hours, and the window is open. Oh,
+whatever has come to the child? Where in the world is she?"
+
+Miss Tredgold looked terribly startled. Verena's face turned like a
+sheet. Briar and Patty clasped each other's hands. Pen said to herself:
+
+"This is the time for a good sort of child like me to do something."
+
+Then a clatter of horse's hoofs was heard on the gravel outside, and a
+stoutly built, rubicund man, on a very large horse, drew rein at the
+front door.
+
+"It's Farmer King!" cried Verena.
+
+"Yes, it's Farmer King," said Pen.
+
+"Penelope, be quiet," said her aunt.
+
+The next moment the door was opened, and the parlor-maid said that Farmer
+King had come and was anxious to see Mr. Dale and Miss Tredgold.
+
+"Show him in here," said Miss Tredgold. "Henry, have the goodness to give
+me that paper."
+
+"But I---- My dear Sophia, I have not finished reading it. I don't agree
+a bit with Mahaffy--not a bit. He takes the text in its literal meaning.
+He ought to read it with the context. Now, there is not the slightest
+manner of doubt that Plato meant----"
+
+"Henry! Are you mad? Give me that paper."
+
+It is to be regretted that Miss Tredgold snatched the _Spectator_ from
+Mr. Dale's unwilling hand.
+
+"Now, Henry, wake up," she said. "Pauline is lost, and Farmer King has
+come to speak to us both on a matter of importance."
+
+Just then Farmer King came into the room. Now, the Kings may have been
+the humble retainers of the Dales for generations, but there was not the
+slightest doubt that Farmer King made a far more imposing appearance at
+that moment than did Mr. Dale of The Dales; for Mr. Dale stood up, thin,
+bewildered, shivering, his mind in the past, his eyes consumed by a sort
+of inward fire, but with no intelligence as far as present things were
+concerned; and Farmer King was intensely wide awake, and, so to speak,
+all there.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Dale," he said. "And I beg your pardon, miss. I
+presume I am speaking to Miss Tredgold?"
+
+"You are, Mr. King," said that lady.
+
+"Good-day to you all, misses," said the farmer.
+
+He looked round at the somewhat frightened little group of sisters in the
+background.
+
+"I have come to say something," said the farmer. "It is something about
+Miss Pauline. It is something about myself and Nancy, and it has to do
+with you, sir"--here he bowed low to Mr. Dale--"and with you, madam"--his
+bow was not quite so reverential when he turned to the lady.
+
+"What is it? Please speak," said Miss Tredgold. "We are very anxious
+about Pauline. Our nurse has just told us that she is not in her bedroom.
+Do you know where she is?"
+
+"Well, madam, about half an hour ago I left Miss Pauline seated in my
+warm kitchen, in the company of my good daughter, Nancy, and eating as
+good a breakfast as I could provide for her. She did not eat much, madam,
+but it is there for her acceptance. The young lady is heartily welcome.
+She prefers us to you for the time being. She did not want you to know
+anything about it, but that ain't quite my way, so I came to explain."
+
+"Please, please, Aunt Sophy, don't be too angry," here came from Verena's
+lips.
+
+"Silence, Verena!" said her father.
+
+Surely there was quite a new note in his voice! He rose; his languor left
+him; he came up to Farmer King and held out his hand.
+
+"Why, good old friend," he said, "it seems ages since we met. Do you
+remember that day when we were boys together and went in search of
+robins' eggs?"
+
+"Don't I?" said the farmer.
+
+He gave an embarrassed laugh, which ended in a sort of roar.
+
+"And haven't I the eggs safe still?" he said. "I have parted with many
+things, but not with the eggs the young squire and I took together."
+
+"It is ages since we met," said Mr. Dale. "You are looking very well,
+Robert--admirably well. I am pleased to see you. Sit down, won't you?
+Pray sit down."
+
+"That man is enough to turn the brain of any one," was Miss Tredgold's
+private ejaculation. Aloud she said:
+
+"I presume, Farmer King, that you have not come here without a story to
+tell."
+
+"That is just it, madam. And now, if I may speak, I will tell you my
+story."
+
+"We are all prepared to listen," said Miss Tredgold.
+
+"Yes, Robert, and with attention--with attention and interest," said Mr.
+Dale. "Why, upon my word, this is almost as good as a fresh rendering of
+the immortal Plato. Sit down, farmer, sit down."
+
+The farmer did not sit down.
+
+"It's no use mincing matters," he said, "nor walking round the bush. It
+is just this. If there is a family on this earth that I have been proud
+to have to do with, it is that of the Dales. If there were children that
+I loved next to my own, it was the Dales. Why, I was brought up, so to
+speak, to look on them as my liege lords. My mother had the old feudal
+principles in her, and she never went with the times. She never held that
+we were as good as our betters. We were good enough, straight enough,
+honest enough, but we hadn't the blue blood of the Dales in us. That is
+how I was brought up. Well, you, sir, were married, and came to live here
+with your good lady. It was the will of the Almighty that she should be
+taken, and the children were left motherless; and my little Nancy and I,
+we used to watch to do them a kindness. They were right pleased to come
+over and see us, and to ride barebacked on my two Forest ponies, and have
+their fun whenever they could get as far away as The Hollies. And Nancy
+was free to come to your house, and much she enjoyed it."
+
+"Well, Robert, very natural--very natural indeed," said Mr. Dale.
+
+"So I took it; so I took it."
+
+Here the farmer flashed an angry eye in the direction of Miss Tredgold.
+
+"But never mind," he continued. "I did not presume--far from that--far
+indeed from that. It pleased the Almighty to give you ten daughters, Mr.
+Dale, and to give me but one. And I love my one as much, perhaps, as you
+love the whole of your ten. But be that as it may, when Nancy went to The
+Dales to have her fun and her larks and her gay time, I was as pleased as
+Punch. And then this good lady came, and she said to herself, 'Who is
+Nancy King?' and the young ladies told her the plain truth; and then this
+good lady did not take the trouble to inquire. A farmer's daughter was
+only a farmer's daughter to her. Oh, I am not blaming her; but a little
+thought, a little less prejudice, would have prevented a lot of mischief.
+Anyhow, the good aunt gave the word--my girl and the young ladies were to
+have nothing to do with each other in the future. Mark you that, sir,
+when they were brought up, so to speak, together--always tumbling about
+in the same hay-field, and riding the same ponies, and playing the same
+games. It was all to end because of madam. Now, Mr. Dale, I was real mad
+when Nancy came and told me what had happened. My feelings were hot and
+strong and bitter, and I thought the treatment dealt out to my child and
+me none too just. So, sir, when Nancy asked me to help her, I helped with
+a will. When Miss Pauline came over to see us--which she did unknown to
+her aunt--I gave her the best of welcomes, and we started our midnight
+picnic for no other reason in life but to have her with us."
+
+"When did you have your midnight picnic?" asked Miss Tredgold very
+gently. "When? Kindly give me the date."
+
+The farmer looked into her face. When he saw how white she was, and when
+he glanced at the two little girls, Briar and Patty, his heart smote him.
+
+"I was given over to evil feelings at that time," he said, "and I don't
+pretend for a moment I did right. Miss Pauline didn't want to be coaxed,
+but Nancy was a rare temptress. We did our best, and the children
+came--three of them. You want to know the date, madam. It was the date of
+Miss Pauline's birthday--the night after her birthday. Oh, yes, madam, we
+had our wild time--a right good time, too." The farmer gave a short
+laugh. "You thought your young ladies quite out of the reach of the
+influence of Farmer King and his family; but you never guessed, madam,
+that all through one long beautiful summer night we had revels in the
+woods--dancing, madam; and a picnic, no less; and the young miss crowned
+with flowers as queen, and given the best presents we could give her. We
+took a drive under the oaks and elms and beeches of the New Forest, and
+you never guessed, madam--never. But Miss Pauline, Miss Briar, and Miss
+Patty were there, and Miss Pauline was our queen. Ah! she had a gay
+birthday, but you ask her what sort of a birthnight she had. It is true
+she was queen of the day, but that was nothing to the time when she was
+queen of the night. Well, sir"--the farmer's eyes shone as he spoke----
+"I meant it as a big joke, and I was desperately proud of myself; but I
+saw even then that Miss Pauline was fretting, and I spoke to her quite
+seriously, and I said, 'If ever the time comes when you want a friend, I
+am the man for your purpose. Don't you forget that; because you are a
+Dale and I am a King, and you Dales have always been our liege lords, so
+don't you forget that.' And the child, sir, she believed me. Lots of
+things happened afterwards, but of them I have nothing to say until last
+night. Miss Pauline came back to me, and she reminded me of what I had
+said to her that night in the woods. And, sir--and, madam--I mean to keep
+my promise. I came home at midnight, and there she was standing at the
+gate, white and slim and pretty as though she was a moonbeam. And she
+said, 'You promised to help me when I was in trouble, and I have come to
+you to get you to keep your promise.' Now, sir and madam, I have come
+here about that. The young lady wants to be helped. She has got a shock,
+and wants a bit of humoring. She says some words which have no meaning to
+me, but they mean something to her, and she must be humored. 'I want to
+wash and be clean,' she keeps saying; and she wants Nancy and me to take
+her away to the seaside where the waves are big and strong, and she
+insists on it that she will only go with Nancy and me. So, Miss Tredgold
+and Mr. Dale, I have come here to-day to say that we mean to take her."
+
+"Can I see her?" asked Miss Tredgold. "I have nothing to say. Perhaps I
+did wrong that time. We all make mistakes sometimes. I ought to have
+known you better, Mr. King. But that time is over. The important thing
+now is to restore the balance of Pauline's mind. Can I see her?"
+
+"You can, madam, when the right time comes; but that is not to-day, and
+it won't be to-morrow. This is my business now, madam, and you must leave
+it to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE CLEANSING WATERS.
+
+
+That very day Farmer King went away with his daughter and Pauline. They
+went to a small village called Rosestairs, not many miles from
+Easterhaze. The farmer was immensely proud and pleased at having the care
+of Pauline, and he was determined that if man could restore her to
+health, he would be that individual. Rosestairs was a very pretty little
+place, and quite sheltered. The Kings took lodgings in a tiny cottage,
+where they lived as plainly as people could. Here Pauline rested and took
+long walks, and, as she expressed it afterwards, found herself again. But
+although day by day the weight in her head grew less, the haunting words
+still clung to her: "Wash and be clean." One night they entered into her
+dreams, and she awoke quite early with the words hovering on her lips:
+"Wash, Pauline; wash and be clean." Nancy was sleeping peacefully by her
+side. Pauline raised her head. She felt well--absolutely well--but for
+those haunting words. She stole out of bed and went and stood by the
+window.
+
+The sea was only a few yards off, and the waves were coming in fresh and
+lovely and sparkling. "Come, wash," they seemed to say, and each soft
+thud of a wave on the shore seemed to repeat the words.
+
+"I will--I will; I must," thought the young girl.
+
+She opened her trunk very softly, took out her bathing-dress, put it on,
+and ran down to the beach. There was no one about. In a moment she had
+entered the waves. She breasted them as far as her waist; she ducked and
+covered herself with the invigorating salt water. And as the sparkling
+salt water rolled over her, it seemed to her fancy that a load rolled off
+her mind. She felt light of heart and gay. She felt cheerful and happy. A
+few minutes later she was back in the cottage. Nancy turned in her sleep,
+started, opened her sleepy eyes, and looked at the dripping figure
+standing in the middle of the room.
+
+"Why, Paulie," she cried, "what are you doing? Oh, you are dripping wet;
+your hair and all. What have you been at?"
+
+"I am wet because I have washed. I have washed and I am clean. Oh, Nancy,
+Nancy! it is as right as possible. The terrible, haunting words have
+gone, and the longing for the sea has gone. I know that I am forgiven.
+Nancy, do you hear? I am washed, and I am clean. Oh! I know at last what
+it means."
+
+"For goodness' sake take off those wet things and get back into bed and
+let me warm you up. You will catch your death."
+
+"My death!" cried Pauline, "when I am so happy I scarcely know how to
+contain myself."
+
+Nancy sprang out of bed, dragged Pauline towards her, and helped her to
+pull off her wet things. Then she wrapped her up in her warm night-dress,
+made her cuddle down in bed, and kissed her and hugged her.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said, "you are the queerest girl; but your face looks as
+it did long ago."
+
+"I feel as I did long ago--or, rather, I feel different. I was a child
+then and did not understand much. Now, it seems to me, I understand a
+great deal--yes, a great deal. Oh! and there is your father in the
+garden. I must dress; I must go to him."
+
+So Pauline jumped out of bed, got quickly into her clothes, and ran out
+to join the farmer.
+
+"Mr. King," she cried, "I am quite well again."
+
+"It looks like it, little missy," said the farmer.
+
+"I am," repeated Pauline. "I am as perfectly well as a girl can be. You
+know how often I told you I wanted to wash and be clean. I had my wash
+this morning, and it was really what I did want, for that dull feeling
+has left my head. I know just everything, and how I behaved, and all the
+rest, and I am prepared to take the bitter as well as the sweet. It is
+very, very sweet living here with you and Nancy, and whatever happens,
+you will be my friends as long as I live. And it is very bitter to think
+that I must tell Aunt Sophia and Verena and the rest of them the whole
+truth; but, bitter or not, I am going to do it, and I am going back to
+them, for it is right. I want to go back to them this very day. May I?"
+
+"Yes, my lass; I understand you," said the farmer gravely.
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a lovely day for the time of year; although it was November, the
+sun shone brilliantly. Miss Tredgold stood on the lawn in front of the
+house and talked to Verena, who stood by her side.
+
+"I understand all of you now, Verena," she said, "except Pauline. I never
+did understand her, and I sometimes think I never shall, poor child!"
+
+"Oh, yes, you will," said Verena. "When Paulie comes back she will be as
+you never knew her--as she used to be, her sweetest and best. In some
+ways she is stronger and better and braver than any of us. I think she
+ought to make a splendid woman some day, for she has so much character
+and so much determination."
+
+"I think I have done the rest of you good by coming here; but if I have
+done Pauline harm, I sometimes wonder if I can ever be happy again," said
+the poor lady.
+
+"You have not done her harm. Only wait until she comes back. She is just
+getting the right treatment now. She felt everything so terribly that her
+mind was quite numb and incapable of conducting her right for a time; but
+wait until she returns."
+
+"Day after day I long and hope for her return," said Miss Tredgold, "but
+day after day there is a fresh excuse."
+
+"And yet you say you want her to return," said Verena. "Oh, aunty, aunty!
+who is this coming up the path? Here she is--Paulie herself; and Nancy is
+following her, and there is Farmer King. They have entered by the
+wicket-gate and are coming up through the plantation. Oh, look, look! And
+she is well. I know by the way she walks, by the way she runs, by the way
+she smiles. She is as well as ever she was in all her life."
+
+"Better--far better than ever!" cried Pauline's gay and almost rollicking
+voice. "Here I am, stronger than ever, and quite, quite well."
+
+The next moment Pauline's arms were flung round her aunt's neck.
+
+"You must forgive me first of all," she said. "I have come back to
+confess, and I want to get my confession over. I want all the others to
+stand round and listen. Ah! here they come. Don't rush at me for a
+moment, girls. Don't hug me or do anything of that sort. Stand still and
+listen, listen, listen. I was rebellious, and I did wrong, and----"
+
+"My darling," interrupted Miss Tredgold, "we know the whole story. We
+only want you to confess that you did wrong, and then never, never to
+allude to it again; for I see, Pauline, by your eyes that you mean to do
+right now."
+
+"I will obey you because I love you," said Pauline.
+
+"There, madam! I think she is pretty well restored," cried the farmer.
+"And she is the best young lady in the world. Nancy and I have brought
+her home, and now, with your permission, madam, we will take our leave."
+
+"Nothing of the sort!" cried Miss Tredgold. "If you did wrong, Pauline, I
+was by no means altogether in the right. I little knew when I told you,
+my dears, to have nothing more to do with Farmer King and his daughter,
+that I was preventing your enjoying the society of a gentleman. Please
+shake hands with me, Mr. King."
+
+Farmer King's face was quite pale with emotion.
+
+"I admire you; I thank you," said Miss Tredgold. "You are a man in a
+thousand;" and again she held out her hand.
+
+This time Farmer King wrung it. But he was absolutely speechless; not a
+single word passed his lips.
+
+"Nancy," said Miss Tredgold, "I revoke what I said. You must come and see
+my girls whenever you like."
+
+"On condition, madam," said the farmer, "that the young ladies sometimes
+come to see Nancy and me."
+
+"Certainly," said Miss Tredgold; "but I also must put in a condition."
+
+"What is that, madam?"
+
+"That I occasionally accompany them."
+
+But at this the farmer gave such a cheer of hearty goodwill that all the
+children joined in in spite of themselves.
+
+"Was there ever anything quite so jolly in all the world?" cried Pauline.
+"I feel younger than ever, and jollier than ever. Here comes father, too.
+We are all together. Father, I am back again, and it is all owing to
+Farmer King and Nancy that I am cured. Whom shall we cry three cheers
+for? You give the word."
+
+"Aunt Sophy, of course," cried Verena.
+
+"Hip! hip! hurrah!" shouted the Dale family.
+
+"And I should like to suggest a hearty cheer for my good old friend,
+Farmer King," said Mr. Dale.
+
+"And for his cure," said Pauline.
+
+And then the Dale family and the King family joined hands and shouted
+"Hip! hip! hurrah!" once more.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Girls of the Forest, by L. T. Meade
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