“And what did he answer?”
“Oh, he got ruder than ever! He said, ‘If I was your pa I’d do a little pruning on you.’ Oh, wasn’t I angry!”
Verena laughed.
“But think a little more,” she said. “Don’t you remember the following year how splendid the pears were? And we had such heaps of apples; and the gooseberries and raspberries were equally fine. We didn’t hate the man when we were eating our delicious fruit.”
Pauline made a slight grimace.
“Look here, Renny,” she said suddenly; “for goodness’ sake don’t begin to point morals. It’s bad enough to have an old aunt here without your turning into a mentor. We all know what you want to say, but please don’t say it. Haven’t we been scolded and directed and ordered about all day long? We don’t want you to do it, too.”
“Very well, I won’t,” said Verena.
“Hullo!” suddenly cried Briar; “if this isn’t Nancy King! Oh, welcome, Nancy—welcome! We are glad to see you.”
Nancy King was a spirited and bright-looking girl who lived about a mile away. Her father had a large farm which was known as The Hollies. He had held this land for many years, and was supposed to be in flourishing circumstances. Nancy was his only child. She had been sent to a fashionable school at Brighton, and considered herself quite a young lady. She came whenever she liked to The Dales, and the girls often met her in the Forest, and enjoyed her society vastly. Now in the most fashionable London attire, Nancy sailed across the lawn, calling out as she did so:
“Hullo, you nine! You look like the Muses. What’s up now? I have heard most wonderful, astounding whispers.”