“What do you like to be called?”
“My name’s Ethelwyn,” said the little girl.
“Yes, I know,” said Pennie. “Mother told us. But I mean, what are you called for short?”
“I’m always called Ethelwyn. Father and mother don’t approve of names being shortened.”
“Oh!” said Pennie deeply impressed. Then feeling it necessary to assert herself, she added: “My name’s Penelope Mary Hawthorn; but I’m always called Pennie, and sometimes the children call me Pen.”
Ethelwyn made no answer; she was attentively observing Pennie’s blue serge frock, and presently asked:
“What’s your best dress?”
“It’s the same as this,” said Pennie, looking down at it meekly, “only newer.”
“Mine’s velveteen,” said Ethelwyn, “the new shade, you know—a sort of mouse colour. Nurse says I look like a picture in it. Do you always wear pinafores?”
Before Pennie had time to answer they had arrived at the Wilderness, and were now joined by Nancy and the two boys, who came shyly forward to shake hands.