“That’s more than I can tell you, father.”
“And why don’t the others come sometimes?” snapped Farmer King. “They none of ’em come, not even that pretty girl we made so much fuss over, giving her a gold locket and chain. Now, I’d like to find out, Nancy, my girl, if she has ever shown that locket and chain to her haristocratic aunt. Do you suppose the haristocratic lady has set eyes on it?”
Nancy laughed.
“I guess not,” she said. “Paulie’s a bit of a coward. She wants to know us and yet she don’t. She wants to know us behind the aunt’s back.”
“Left hand, not right hand,” said the farmer. “I don’t like that sort.”
“At any rate she can’t come to us at present, father, for Miss Tredgold has taken her to the seaside.”
“That’s it, is it?” said the farmer, his face clearing. “Then I suppose little miss has come with a message. What did missie say about your friend, Nancy?”
“Nothing. She’s asleep at present. I mean to let her have her sleep out, then give her some dinner, and drive her home in the dogcart.”
“Do as you like, Nance; only for mercy’s sake don’t make a fool of yourself over that family, for it strikes me forcibly they’re becoming too grand for us.”
Nancy said nothing further. She returned to the house and sat down in the room where Penelope slept. Her work-basket was open. She was making a pretty new necktie for herself. Nancy was a very clever workwoman, and the necktie grew under her nimble fingers. Presently she dived into the bottom of the basket and took out a gold thimble with a sapphire top and turquoises round the rim. She slipped it on to the tip of her slender first finger.