“Nesta! You haven’t the courage!”
“Courage?” said Nesta, “catch me wanting courage. Stay where you are; I’ll come back to you when I’ve got my yellow-boy. When that’s in my pocket I’ll come back and then you’ll have a good time. Although,” she added reflectively, “I don’t know that you deserve it, for being such an arrant little coward.”
Nesta disappeared; Flossie sat and mopped her face. She was trembling with nervousness. She had never been really at home with the Carters, and she disliked immensely her present position. She wondered, too, why she cared so much for Nesta. There was nothing wonderful about Nesta. But then there was the sovereign, a whole sovereign, capable of being divided into twenty beautiful silver shillings. Flossie’s father was a very well-to-do tradesman, and could and would leave his child well off; but he was careful, and he never allowed her much pocket money. In the whole course of her life she had never possessed more than half-a-crown at a time, and to be able to have eight of those darlings, to feel that she could do what she liked with them, was a dream beyond the dreams of avarice. It is true the money would not be hers; it would be Nesta’s; but Nesta, with all her faults, was generous enough, and Flossie felt that once she had the money and was away with her friend at the seaside they could really have a good time. Flossie was very fond of her food, and she imagined how the money could be spent on little treats—shrimps or doughnuts, and whatever fruit was in season. They could have endless little picnics all to themselves on the sands. It would be a time worth remembering.
Meanwhile where was Nesta? Flossie was afraid at first to venture to look round the other side of the haycock, but after a time, when she had quite cooled down, she did poke her head round. To her astonishment, envy and disgust, she saw that Nesta, in her shabby cotton frock, with her old hat on her head, was calmly walking up and down in the company of Penelope Carter. Penelope and her boy friend, and Nesta, were parading slowly up and down, up and down a corner of one of the lawns.
Penelope did all that an ordinary girl could to get rid of her friend; but Nesta stuck like a leech. At last Penelope was desperate.
“I am awfully sorry, Nesta, but you see we have all our sets marked out, and we—we didn’t invite you to-day. You must be tired, and if you will go into the house, Mrs Johnson will give you a cup of tea.”
“But I’ve brought Flossie, Flossie Griffiths. I cannot leave her out.”
“Take Flossie with you, and both have a cup of tea.”
“I’ll go with pleasure, if you’ll come with me.”
“But I can’t. Do speak for me, Bertie,” she continued, turning to the boy. “Say that I cannot.”