“He’s sure to give me sixpence if I worrit him long enough,” thought the naughty little girl.
She stood close to the window. Suddenly it occurred to her that if she drew down the blind, which she could easily do by pushing her hand inside the window and then planting her fat little person on the window-sill, she would cause a shadow to come before the light on her father’s page.
“That will make him look up,” she thought. “When he does I’ll ask him again for sixpence. I’ll tell him I won’t go away till I get it.”
She sat down on the window-sill, cleverly manipulating the blind, and Mr. Dale found an unpleasant darkness steal over his page.
“Draw up that blind and go away, Penelope,” he said. “Do you hear? Go away.”
“I will ’mediately you give me sixpence. I will draw up the blind and I’ll go away,” said Pen.
“I will give you nothing. You are an extremely naughty little girl.”
Penelope sat on. Mr. Dale tried to read in the darkening light. Presently he heard a sniff. The sniff grew louder.
“My froat,” said Penelope.
He glanced towards her. She was sitting huddled up; her back looked very round.