“How hungry I’ll be when I get to the seaside!” she said to herself. “I’ll swell out and get very red and very fat. My body will be ’normous. Oh, there’s father!”
Mr. Dale was seated near his window. His head was bent as usual over his work.
“Father could give me something,” thought Pen. “He could and he ought. I’ll ask him. Dad!” she called.
Mr. Dale did not answer.
“Dad!” called Pen again.
He looked up with a fretful expression.
“Go away, my dear,” he said. “I am particularly busy.”
“I will if you’ll give me sixpence.”
“Go away.”
Pen’s father bent again over his book. He forgot Penelope.