“Oh, far, far more lovely. She puts every one else into the shade. I invited her to Court Prospect, and I expect she’ll come. I am going home now, and shall try to get up a grand party in her honour. After what she said to me she could hardly refuse. It is all delightful.”
“Yes, delightful!” said Nesta. “Well, good-bye. Just mention to Penelope, will you, that you were introduced to her this morning.”
“I wonder why I should do that?” said Clara, as she settled herself in the little pony trap which was standing outside the door.
“Oh, just to oblige me,” said Nesta, and the next minute Clara Carter was out of sight.
Nesta skipped joyfully into the house.
“Now I’ve done it,” she thought. “Penelope can’t go back. We made a bet. How I was to fulfil my part I hadn’t the least idea, but I am thankful to say I have won. She’ll have to give me a whole sovereign. Yes, a whole, beautiful yellow-boy for my very own self; and if Clara contrives to get Miss St. Just to visit them at Court Prospect, Penelope is to give me two sovereigns. I shall be in luck! Why, a girl with two sovereigns can face the world. She has all before her. She has nothing left to wish for. It is splendid! Magnificent! Oh, I am in luck!”
Nesta danced into the garden. Notwithstanding the hot day she was determined to go at once to tell Flossie Griffiths the good news. Flossie had not been quite as nice as usual to Nesta of late. She had made the acquaintance of the Carters, and the Carters had not specially taken to her. Penelope Carter was also in some ways more fascinating to Nesta than her old friend Flossie, and in consequence Flossie was furiously jealous. But when you have a piece of good news to tell—something quite above the ordinary, you must confide it to some one, and if it is a jealous friend, who would long to have such a delightful thing happen to herself, why so much the better.
So Nesta pinned on her shabbiest hat and went down the narrow pathway, found the entrance to the woods, and by-and-by reached the Griffiths’ house.
Flossie was in the garden; she was playing with her dogs. She had three, and was devoted to them. One was a black Pomeranian, another a pug, and the third a mongrel—something between an Irish setter and an Irish terrier. The mongrel was the most interesting dog of the three, and had been taught tricks by Flossie. His name was Jingo. He was now standing on his hind legs, while the other two dogs waltzed round and round. However strong his desire to pounce upon Ginger, the pug, and Blackberry, the Pomeranian, he had to restrain himself. They might yap and bite at his toes, and try to reach his ears, as much as they pleased, but he must remain like a statue. If he endured long enough he would have a lump of sugar for his pains, which he would eat deliberately in view of his tormentors; for this halcyon moment he endured the tortures which Flossie daily subjected him to. It was really time for his sugar now, he had been on his hind legs for quite two minutes; his back was aching; he hated the feel of the sun on his head, he wanted to get into the shade, and above all things he wanted to punish Blackberry and to snap at Ginger. Flossie’s hand was in her pocket, the delicious moment had all but arrived, when Nesta’s clear, ringing voice sounded on the breeze.
“I say, Floss, I’m just in time. Oh, do come away from those stupid dogs. I have something so heavenly to tell you—it’s perfectly golloptious.”