As Nancy spoke she poised the thimble on her second finger. Her fingers were small, white, and tapering. The thimble exactly fitted the narrow tip on which it rested.
“I never saw anything so lovely,” she cried. “Never mind, Paulie, about to-morrow. Lend it to me. I’d give my eyes to show it to Becky.”
“But why should I lend it to you? I must return it to Aunt Sophia.”
“You surely won’t give it back to her to-day.”
“No, but to-morrow.”
“Let to-morrow take care of itself. I want to show this thimble to Becky and Amy. I have a reason. You won’t refuse one who is so truly kind to you, will you, little Paulie? And I tell you what: I know you are starving, and you hate to go into the house for your food. I will bring you a basketful of apples, chocolates, and a peach or two. We have lovely peaches ripe in our garden now, although we are such common folk.”
Pauline felt thirsty. Her hunger, too, was getting worse. She would have given a good deal to have been able to refuse the horrid meals which would be served to her in the schoolroom. Perhaps she could manage without any other food if she had enough fruit.
“I should like some very much,” she said. “Aunt Sophia has, as she calls it, preserved the orchard. We are not allowed to go into it.”
“Mean cat!” cried Nancy.
“So will you really send me a basket of fruit?”