“Perhaps,” interrupted Frederica, “we had best each keep our own counsel as to the manner in which we are to treat Ralph. It is a great responsibility, and as something hangs on it—for I don’t pretend for a moment I should not like to get the pony—the less we say to each other the better.”
“There’s one thing,” said Rose Amberley at that moment. “Mrs Burton, I am sure, will not wish any of us to give Ralph sweeties or cakes, or the sort of things that might make him ill. Otherwise, I suppose each girl will manage him her own way. Now, let us see. To-morrow will be Wednesday. You are to look after him to-morrow, Frederica. I suppose Patience comes next, and then I; and then, I think, it is your turn, Harriet, isn’t it? I presume we’ll come according to our ages. You are next oldest to Rose, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Harriet.
“Very well then, Harriet. If I look after Ralph to-morrow,” said Frederica, “and Patience has him on Thursday, and Rose on Friday, Saturday will be your day.”
“Oh, I hate having him on Saturday,” said Harriet, “for that is our half-holiday, and there are such lots of things to be done.”
“Still, that can scarcely be helped,” said Frederica again, “for your turn comes on Saturday, so there is nothing to be said.”
“What a nuisance!” said Harriet. “And I suppose Jane will have him Sunday; I wish my day were Sunday.”
The other girls made no reply, and Harriet presently went out of the room, her hand linked in Jane’s.
“Now, Janie,” she said, “you understand, of course, that I mean to get that pony.”
“I know you mean it,” said Jane.