Jim’s heart had jumped into his mouth when his father began to speak, but before it came to an end he was aflame with excitement and delight. Here, truly, was an honour! Penelope and her small troubles were as completely forgotten as though they had never existed. He delighted in the sudden honour thrust upon him; he vowed that he would do it well, if his very life were demanded of him.
His quick dressing, his hurried getting downstairs; his father helping him and beseeching him not to make the slightest noise, made it all as mysterious as one of Henty’s adventures. The breakfast which his father himself got for him; the quick walk to the station; the hurried good-bye, when he found himself in a first-class carriage in the train, and his father looking proud and confident, all dazzled his young head, and Penelope and her stolen sovereign were as though they had never been. But when Penelope awoke that morning, the very first person she thought of was Jim. She and Annie shared a room together. Annie was not particularly fond of Penelope; she was the least interesting of the Carter girls; she was a little more commonplace and a little more absorbed in herself than her elder sisters.
“There is one thing I’m going to ask father,” said Annie, as they dressed that morning, “that is after we return from the seaside—if I may have a room to myself. I really can’t stand the higgledy-piggledy way you keep your things in, Pen.”
“Oh, I hate being tidy!” said Pen. “I wonder where Jim is. Jim is a brick of bricks; the dearest, darlingest, nicest fellow in the world.”
“Oh, my word!” cried Annie, “why is Jim in such high favour? I never heard you go into raptures about him before.”
“I never found him out until last night,” said Penelope.
“And you found him out last night? Pray, in what way,” said Annie.
“Ah, that’s a secret,” said Pen. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“If there’s a thing in this wide world I’d be deaved to death about, it would be one of your stupid secrets,” said Annie. “Why, you’re nothing but a child; and as to Jim, I don’t believe he has made you his confidante.”
“Yes, he has, though; yes, he has,” said Penelope, and she dashed about the room, making the most of what she thought would tease her sister.