“I thought it did. And you like my little blue stockings, father?”
“Very neat, dear.”
“I thought they wor.”
“You look completely unlike yourself, Penelope. What is the matter?”
“I want to be a true, kind lady,” said the little girl. “I am gathering grasses for my aunty; so I are.”
She trotted away into the house.
“What a pretty, neat, orderly little girl Penelope has become!” said Mr. Dale. “But—— You really must excuse me, my dear girls. You are most charming, all of you. Ah, my dears!—so fresh, so unsophisticated, so—yes, that is the word—so unworldly. But I must get back to my beloved Virgil. You don’t know—you can never know—what a moment of triumph is mine. You must excuse me, darlings—Verena, you are nearly grown up; you will see to the others. Do what you can to make them happy—a little treat if necessary; I should not mind it.”
“Give us fourpence to buy a pound of golden syrup for tea, please, Padre,” suddenly said Briar. “If there is a thing I love, it is golden syrup. A pound between us will give us quite a feast—won’t it, Renny?”
“Only we must save a little for the aunt,” cried Patty.
“I do hope one thing,” said Pauline: “that, whatever her faults, she won’t be greedy. There isn’t room for any one to be greedy in this house. The law of this house is the law of self-denial; isn’t it, Padre?”