Martha came out, resplendent in a green cashmere made in the very latest style, a green hat with pink ostrich feathers, and a green parasol.
Peter looked impressed, and said nothing more about accompanying them; Poppet was nobody, of course, even though her new boots had twelve buttons against his own six; but even his young soul felt the impossibility of a sailor suit no longer new being seen within a yard of that magnificent new costume of Martha’s.
He contented himself with looking after them enviously as they went down the drive, and kicking the verandah post with his small strong boots.
[129]
]“Tthuck up thingth!” he muttered, turning away to look for means of amusement. “I’ll thutht pay that Poppet out.”
Martha had ideas of her own as to the proper way a holiday should be spent, and had determined Poppet should have a day she would long remember. One thing only Poppet asked for, and that was that they should walk about Circular Quay for a little time and look at the great ships, and especially any that were bound for America.
In her pocket the little girl had a blotted note she had written some days ago. On the envelope, in very bad, unsteady writing, there was this strange address:—
“To Bunty in America.
“On the ship Isabela plese will the capten give this to Bunty.”
There was a pencil mark through Bunty, and John Woolcot was written in brackets.
Inside the envelope was much paper and many smudges made by the tears that fell all the time the pen went slowly along the lines.