Now this sort of homage was sweet to Clara. She kissed the child, and said affectionately:
“Well, I’m a bit tired; what with running about all over the place and entertaining folks, I don’t seem to have a leg to stand on; but I suppose we can just cross the lawn and get into the summerhouse and have a chat. Come along, Pen.”
Penelope fastened herself on to her elder sister’s arm and they went across to the summerhouse in question.
“Now, then,” said Clara, somewhat severely, “they tell me that I spoil you.”
“Oh, but you don’t, Clay, you are ever so nice to me.”
“Well, I don’t mean to spoil you. Of course, these are holiday times; but when lessons begin again I am going to be ever so strict. It has just occurred to me that I might get an introduction for you through Miss Angela St. Just to that charming school at Frankfort.”
“What charming school at Frankfort?” asked Penelope. “Frankfort—where’s that?”
“Oh, you dreadful child! Don’t you know?”
“I hate geography. I don’t want to learn. I don’t want to be a good, model, knowledgeable girl. And I hate Miss Just. I do; so there!”
“Well, Penelope, you are a good deal too young to choose for yourself, and if father can get an introduction to Mrs Silchester, I am sure he will avail himself of it. The school is most select; only the very nicest of girls go there.”