“Then I’ll believe just as much as nothing at all. If you haven’t got the thimble, you know where it is. I’ll give you until this time to-morrow to let me have it, and if you don’t I’ll go straight to Aunt Sophy.”
“Now, Pen, you are talking nonsense. You have no proof whatever that I have touched the thimble; and what will Aunt Sophia say to a little child who trumps up stories about her elder sister?”
“Perhaps she’ll be very glad,” said Penelope. “I have often thought that with such a lot of you grown-up girls, and all of you so very rampagious and not a bit inclined to obey or do your lessons nicely, poor Aunt Sophy, what is really a dear old duck of a thing, wants some one like me to spy round corners and find out what goes on ahind her back. Don’t you think so? Don’t you think her’ll love me if I tell her always what goes on ahind of her back?”
“If she’s a bit decent she’ll hate you,” said Pauline. “Oh, Pen, how were you made? What a queer, queer sort of child you are! You haven’t ideas like the rest of us.”
“Maybe ’cos I’m nicer,” said Penelope, not at all impressed by Pauline’s contempt. “Maybe I shouldn’t like to be made same as all you others are. There is something wrong about Aunt Sophy’s thimble, and if I don’t get it soon I’ll be ’bliged to tell her.”
Penelope’s eyes looked like needles. She walked away. Pauline gazed after her; then she went into the house.
“That thimble is really a very trifling matter,” she said to herself, “but even that at the present moment annoys me. Nancy has promised to bring it back to me this evening, and I will just put it somewhere where Pen is sure to find it. Then she’ll be in raptures; she’ll have her penny, and that matter will be set at rest. Oh, dear! it is almost time to go and meet Nancy. She must not keep me long, for now that that horrid dressing for dinner has begun, it takes quite half an hour to get properly tidy. But what am I to do? How can I wear that blouse?”
Pauline waited her chance, and slipped out at the wicket-gate without even Penelope’s sharp eyes watching her. She found Nancy pacing up and down at the other side. Nancy was decidedly cross.
“Why did you keep me waiting?” she said. “It is five minutes past six, and I have barely another five minutes to stay with you, and there’s a lot to talk over.”
“I’m in great luck to be able to come at all, Nancy. I didn’t think I could ever slip away from the others. As to the midnight picnic, we must give it up. It is quite impossible for me to come. And I know the others won’t; they’re all getting so fond of Aunt Sophy. What do you think? She has given us ponies, and we’re to have carriage-horses presently; and we are obliged to dress for dinner every evening.”