It was a relief to Pennie just now to cuff and scold Jemima, and to pet the Lady Dulcibella, who was a wax doll with a lovely pink and white complexion, and real golden hair and eyelashes. She had everything befitting a doll of her station and appearance—a comfortable bed with white curtains, an arm-chair with a chintz cushion, private brushes and combs, and an elegant travelling trunk. Her life altogether was a contrast to Jemima’s, who never went to bed at all, and had no possessions except one ragged old red dress; nevertheless, it is possible that Dulcibella with all her elegance would have been the more easily spared of the two.
Nancy soon joined Pennie, and the little girls became so absorbed in their play that they were still busy when tea-time came; they hurried down-stairs to the schoolroom, for Miss Grey was particular about punctuality, and found that David and Ambrose were already seated, each with his own special mug at his side; mother was in the room too, talking to Miss Grey about an open letter which she held in her hand.
Mrs Hawthorn always paid the children a visit at schoolroom tea, and they generally had something wonderful to tell her saved up for this occasion—things which had occurred during their walk, or perhaps exciting details about the various pet animals. Sometimes she in her turn had news for them, and when Pennie saw the open letter she changed her intention of saying that the bonnets had come home, and waited quietly. Perhaps mother had something interesting to tell.
Pennie was right, for Mrs Hawthorn presently made an announcement of such a startling character that the new bonnets sank at once into insignificance.
“Children,” she said, “a little girl is coming to stay with you.”
Now such a thing had never happened before, and it was so astonishing that they all stared at their mother in silence with half-uplifted mugs, and slices of bread and butter in their hands. Then all at once they began to pour forth a torrent of questions:— What is she like? Where does she live? How old is she? What is her name?
Mrs Hawthorn held up her hand.
“One at a time,” she said. “If you will be quiet you shall hear all about it. This little girl lives in London. Her mother is a very old friend of mine, though you have never seen her, and I have asked her to let her little daughter come here for a visit. She is about Pennie’s age, and her name is Ethelwyn.”
“What a long one!” said Nancy; “must we call her all of it?”
“I think it’s a beautiful name,” said Pennie. “Almost as good as ‘Dulcibella.’ And then we might call her ‘Ethel,’ or ‘Winnie,’ they’re both pretty.”