Nor did David; and he never said again that the thing he liked least at Nearminster was Miss Unity, for he had a long memory for benefits as well as for injuries.
Chapter Six.
Ethelwyn.
“Oh, dear me!” said Pennie, looking at herself in the glass over the nursery mantel-shelf; “it is ugly, and so uncomfortable. I wish I needn’t wear it.”
“It,” was Pennie’s new winter bonnet, and certainly it was not very becoming; it was made of black plush with a very deep brim, out of which her little pointed face peered mournfully, and seemed almost swallowed up. There was one exactly like it for Nancy, and the bonnets had just come from Miss Griggs, the milliner at Nearminster, where they had been ordered a week ago. “Do you come and try yours on, Miss Pennie,” said Nurse as she unpacked them, “there’s no getting hold of Miss Nancy.”
So Pennie put it on with a little secret hope that it might be a prettier bonnet than the last; she looked in the glass, and then followed the exclamation with which this chapter begins.
“I don’t see anything amiss with it,” said Nurse, who stood with her head on one side, and the other bonnet perched on her hand. “They’re as alike as two pins,” she added, twirling it round admiringly.
“They’re both just as ugly as they can be,” said Pennie mournfully; “but mine’s sure to look worse than Nancy’s—it always does. And they never will stay on,” she added in a still more dejected voice, “unless I keep on catching at the strings in front with my chin.”