The embroideries were, indeed, very beautiful, and exhibited with a good deal of pride, while Penny sat in modest silence listening to the conversation. She privately regarded Mrs Hathaway’s handiwork with a shudder, and thought to herself, “How very little time she must have for reading!”
Scarcely any notice had been taken of her yet; but presently, when everything had been shown and admired, Mrs Hathaway turned her keen black eyes upon her, and said:
“And this little lady, now, is she fond of her needle?”
A sympathetic glance passed between Mrs Hawthorne and Penny, but she knew she must answer for herself, and she murmured shyly though emphatically:
“Oh, no.”
“No! Indeed,” said Mrs Hathaway, “and why not?”
She was a very upright old lady, and when she said this she sat more upright than ever, and fixed her eyes on Penny’s face.
Penny felt very uncomfortable under this gaze, and wriggled nervously, but she could find nothing better to say than:
“Because I hate it so.”
“I am afraid,” put in Mrs Hawthorne, “that Penny doesn’t quite understand the importance of being able to sew neatly; just now she thinks of nothing but her books, but she will grow wiser in time, and become a clever needlewoman, I hope.”