“Well, your learned and abstracted father. It all comes to much the same. Now think the matter over. You needn’t decide just this minute. I shall come to the wicket-gate at half-past seven, and if you like to meet me, why, you can; but if you are still too good, and your conscience is too troublesome, and your scruples too keen, you need not come. I shall quite understand. In that case, perhaps, I’d best not give you that lovely, lovely present that I saved up so much money to buy.”
Pauline clasped her hands and stepped away from Nancy. As she did so the breeze caught her full gray skirt and caused it to blow against Nancy. Nancy stretched out her hand and caught hold of Pauline’s pocket.
“What is this hard thing?” she cried. “Have you got a nut in your pocket?”
“No,” said Pauline, instantly smiling and dimpling. “Oh, Nancy, such fun!”
She dived into her pocket and produced Miss Tredgold’s thimble.
“Oh, I say!” cried Nancy. “What a beauty! Who in the world gave you this treasure, Paulie?”
“It isn’t mine at all; it belongs to Aunt Sophia.”
“You sly little thing! You took it from her?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m not a thief. I saw it in the grass a few minutes ago and picked it up. It had rolled just under that dock-leaf. Isn’t it sweet? I shall give it back to her after she has forgiven me to-morrow.”
“What a charming, return-good-for-evil character you have suddenly become, Pauline!”