“I am exceedingly sorry I told you,” she said. “You are not half, nor quarter, as nice a sister as you used to be. Don’t keep me. I am going into the shrubbery to help Penelope to look for Aunt Sophy’s thimble.”
Verena said nothing further, and Pauline went into the shrubbery.
“I seem to be getting worse,” she said to herself. “Of course, I don’t really want to help Penelope. How should I, when I know where the thimble is? There she is, hunting, hunting, as usual. What a queer, unpleasant child she is growing!”
Penelope saw Pauline, and ran up to her.
“You might tell me everything to-day,” said the child. “Where did you put it?”
“I have come to help you to look for it, Pen.”
“Don’t be silly,” was Penelope’s answer.
She instantly stood bolt upright.
“There’s no use in my fussing any longer,” she said. “I’ve gone round and round here, and picked up leaves, and looked under all the weeds. There isn’t a corner I’ve left unpoked into. Where’s the good of troubling when you have it? You know you have it.”
“I know nothing of the kind. There! I will tell you the simple truth. I have not got the thimble. You may believe me as much as you like.”