“Well, then,” said Mrs Hawthorn, “I have something to tell you that I am sure you will like. The doctor thinks Ambrose much better to-day, and if you are very quiet and discreet I will let you go and have tea with him this afternoon at five o’clock.”
“Oh, mother, mother,” cried Pennie, “how lovely! May I really?”
“Yes; but you must promise me one thing, and that is that you will not speak of anything that has to do with the garret or his accident.”
Pennie’s face fell.
“Very well, mother,” she said in a dejected tone.
“If you can’t feel sure, Pennie,” said her mother observing the hesitation, “I can’t let you go.”
“I won’t, really, mother,” repeated Pennie with a sigh—“truly and faithfully.”
But she felt almost as low-spirited as ever, for what was the good of seeing Ambrose if she could not make him understand about the Goblin Lady? She remained at the window pondering the subject, with her eyes fixed on the grey church tower, the top of which she could just see through the branches of the pear-tree. It reminded her somehow of her father’s text last Sunday, and how pleased she and Nancy had been because it was such a short one to learn. Only two words: “Pray always.” She said it to herself now over and over again without thinking much about it, until it suddenly struck her that it would be a good thing to say a little prayer and ask to be helped out of the present difficulty. “If I believe enough,” she said to herself, “I shall be helped. Father says people always are helped if they believe enough when they ask.”
She shut her eyes up very tight and repeated earnestly several times: “I do believe. I really and truly do believe;” and then she said her prayer.
After this she felt a little more comfortable and ran out to play with Nancy, firmly believing that before five o’clock something would turn up to her assistance.