CHAPTER IV.
THE LOST HALF-SOVEREIGN.
"Children should not leave about
Anything that's small and bright;
Lest the fairies spy it out,
And fly off with it at night."
Poems written for a child.
There was no buzzy sound in Mrs. White's garden this afternoon. It was far too early in the year for that, indeed it was beginning to feel quite chilly and cold, as the afternoons often do of fine days in early spring, and by the time Floss and Carrots had eaten their cake, and examined all the rose bushes to see if they could find any buds, and wished it were summer, so that there would be some strawberries hiding under the glossy green leaves, they began to wonder why nurse was so long—and to feel rather cold and tired of waiting.
"Just run to the door, Carrots, dear," said Floss, "and peep in to see if nurse is coming."
She did not like to go herself, for she knew that nurse and Mrs. White were fond of a comfortable talk together and might not like to be interrupted by her. But Carrots they would not mind.
Carrots set off obediently, but before he got to the door he met nurse coming out. She was followed by Mrs. White and both were talking rather earnestly.
"You'll let me know, if so be as you find it, Mrs. Hooper; you won't forget?" Mrs. White was saying—Hooper was nurse's name—"for I feel quite uneasy—I do that, for you."
"I'll let you know, and thank you, Mrs. White," said nurse. "I'm glad I happened to bring some of my own money with me too, for I should have been sorry to put you to any ill-convenience by my carelessness—though how I could have been so careless as to mislay it, I'm sure it's more than I can say."
"It is, indeed, and you so careful," said Mrs. White sympathisingly.