Penelope pressed close to Nancy. Nancy placed the thimble in the midst of some pink cotton-wool and looked at it affectionately; then she tied up the little box, put brown paper round it, tied string round that again, and then she held it out to Pen.
“You are quite positive you won’t lose it?” she said.
“Positive. I has a big pocket, and no hole in it. See for yourself, there’s no hole. Turn it out, will you?”
Penelope’s pocket proved to be quite safe, and Nancy, with a qualm at her heart which she could not account for, allowed the little girl to put the thimble therein.
“Well, that is settled,” she cried. “And now I want to know what you came for. You are going to have dinner with father and me after a bit.”
“No, I’m not,” answered Pen. “I’m going home at once.”
“But why did you come? Did Pauline send me a message?”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
“Why not? I’ve done a great deal for her.”
“She’s ongrateful,” said Pen. “She didn’t send no message. I ’spect she’ll have forgot you when she comes back.”