“Why did you do that?” asked Pauline.
“Because I wanted to come to the sea, and there was no other way. Vinegar wouldn’t do it, nor tum-aches, but I thought Nancy might.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Pauline. “In what possible way could Nancy King have brought you here?”
“Only that I got so desperate after seeing her that I wrote that funny, funny letter, and nursey helped me; and now I’m here, and I think I can do what I like. You had best be friends with me now, for I can do just what I like.”
Pauline felt just a little afraid. She knelt down by Pen.
“Tell me why you went,” she said. “You know you disobeyed Aunt Sophy when you went.”
“Yes; but what’s one more in a family doing disobeying things?” answered Pen in her glib fashion. “But now listen. I will tell you.”
She related her adventures with much glee—her walk through the woods, her arrival, the terrible way in which Lurcher had treated her, the kindness of the farmer, the proposed dinner, Nancy’s manners. She was working up to the grand climax, to the moment when she should speak about the thimble.
“What do you think?” she said suddenly. “Nancy put me on a sofa, and I slept. I slept sound, and when I woke up I saw Nancy sitting by the window sewing. She wor making a blue scarf, and her thimble went flashing in and out; and what do you think, Paulie? What do you think?”
“Well?” said Pauline.