"There's one who sends a present to Sarah every week," Polly responded gravely. "Isn't there, Roger?"
Roger nodded, and meeting each other's eyes the sister and brother laughed. Edgar looked vexed, for he had an idea his companions were poking fun at him, and he stood much on his dignity. However, Roger promptly explained that Polly had referred to an unknown person who had befriended Sarah by sending her a pound every week since her husband's accident. Edgar was much interested, and expressed great astonishment that the generous donor should desire to remain unknown, for, as he said, most people who gave anything away liked to be thanked.
They were leaving the clay works—deep pits where scores of men were at work digging clay or pumping up water—behind them, and ten minutes more walking brought them to the woods, which were carpeted with moss and primroses on this beautiful spring day. Polly's basket was soon filled with the pale, delicately-scented flowers; and then the three young people sat down to rest at the foot of a beech tree, and the little girl drew a good-sized package from a capacious pocket in her skirt, and proceeded to open it with an air of triumph.
"There, boys!" she exclaimed, as she revealed a large lump of home-made cake. "You didn't know I'd brought lunch with me, but aren't you glad? I'd have cut a bigger bit if I'd known Edgar was going to be with us. Where's your knife, Roger? Divide the cake into three slices, please."
"I'm jolly hungry," Roger announced, as he produced his pocket-knife and proceeded to do his sister's bidding. "I'm just ready for a snack."
"And yet you said you wouldn't want lunch when mother advised you to take some," Polly reminded him. "I knew better than that, for being out-of-doors always makes one very hungry. Come, Edgar, take your share!"
Accustomed though he was to far daintier fare, Edgar enjoyed his slice of cake, which proved most satisfying. It was very comfortable under the beech tree, the brown, swelling buds of which were bursting into leaf, and the young people spent a sociable half-hour, watching the squirrels in the boughs overhead, and talking confidentially. They discussed their elders, as children are so fond of doing, and Edgar informed his cousins how surprised his parents were that Cousin Becky was to make her home with them in Princess Street.
"Why are they so surprised?" asked Polly, greatly desirous to ascertain the reason.
"Because Cousin Becky is so poor. Mother said she could understand it better if she was rich and you could make something out of her, but what she is going to pay is so little. I think myself that Cousin Becky is very nice, and I should not mind having her to live with us at the Rookery. It is a great pity she has not more money. Father says you can do nothing without money."
This teaching was new to Polly and Roger, who had been taught a far different creed.