The house at Easney was merrier and more noisy than it had been for some time on the day of Pennie’s return, but the house at Nearminster went back at once to its old gravity and silence. Had it always been so still and quiet? Miss Unity wondered. If so, she had never noticed it until Pennie had come and gone. Now it seemed so strange and unaccustomed that it made her quite restless and unable to settle down to her usual morning employments. She tried them one after another in vain. It was of no use. She could neither add up her accounts, nor read her newspaper, nor do her wool-work with the least satisfaction.
Almost without knowing it she went aimlessly into her bed-room, and from there into the little pink-chintz room which had been Pennie’s. Betty had already made it so neat and trim that it looked forlornly empty with no signs of its late owner. So Miss Unity thought at first, but glancing round it she saw that careless Pennie had left her thimble on the table, and one of her dancing shoes in a corner.
Miss Unity picked up the thimble and fitted it absently on to the top of her own finger. How Pennie had disliked sewing, and dancing too, and how very very glad she had been to go home that morning! How she had flung herself upon Nancy and smothered her with kisses; how happy and smiling her face had looked as she drove away from the door, talking so eagerly to her sister that she had almost forgotten to wave a last good-bye to Miss Unity at the window.
“Well, it was natural, I would not have it otherwise,” said Miss Unity to herself as she finished her reflections; “it is right that the child should love her home best.”
But she sighed as she went back to the sitting-room and took up her work again. Opposite to her was the high-backed chair in which Pennie had spent so many weary hours, bending with a frown over Kettles’ garments. But the chair was empty, and there was something in the way it stood which so annoyed Miss Unity that she pushed it up against the wall almost impatiently. Then her eye fell on a pile of white clothes neatly folded on a side-table. Pennie had finished them all, and Miss Unity had promised that she and Nancy should come over and present them to Kettles before long. From this her thoughts went on to Kettles herself, and Anchor and Hope Alley. At this moment Betty appeared at the door with a face full of woe.
“I’ve just had an accident, Miss,” she said.
Betty’s accidents usually meant broken china, but this time it was something worse. She had sprained her wrist badly.
“You must go at once to the doctor, Betty,” said Miss Unity, looking nervously at the swollen member; “and, oh dear me! it’s your right one isn’t it?”
“Yes, Miss, worse luck,” said Betty.
“We must have someone in,” continued Miss Unity still more nervously; “you ought not to use it, you know, for a long time.”