“Nothing,” replied Lucy. “You are talking rubbish. Get out of my way. I’m very busy.”
Pen looked wildly around her. She was in such a state of suppressed excitement that she could stop at nothing. Her sisters were all close at hand. Patty and Briar were sitting as usual almost in each other’s pockets. Adelaide, Josephine, Lucy, and Helen made a group apart. Pen thought carefully.
“There’s six of ’em,” she said to herself. “I ought to make a little money by six of ’em. Look here!” she called out. “You all say I’m not going on a journey to-morrow; I say I am. Will you give me a penny each if I go? Is it done? Is it truly done? If I don’t go I’ll give you a penny each.”
“But you haven’t got any pence to give us.”
“I will borrow from nursey. I know she’ll lend me the money. But I shan’t need it, for I am going. Will you give me a penny each if I go?”
“Oh, yes, if you want it,” said Adelaide.
“But remember,” continued Lucy, “we shall keep you to your part of the bargain if you don’t go.”
“All right,” cried Pen; and, having received the promise, she walked sedately across the grass.
“Six pennies! I’ll find them useful at the seaside,” she thought. “There’s nothing like having a little money of your own. It buys sweetmeats and cakes. I’ll tell Aunt Sophy that my froat is so sore, and that I must have constant sweetmeats. Six pennies will get a lot.”
She walked more slowly. She was in reality in excellent health; even the vinegar was not doing her much harm.