The Dean had known from the outset that Penelope would have her own way, but I think a few words Miss Letitia spoke to him decided the question in his mind. Something she told him of their elder brother's story. "And he would have cared for her child," said the gentle little lady with a sigh. So Nora Mayne awoke at the Deanery in a new position. She was brought into the breakfast-room by Penelope, who was proud of her new friend, and the Dean welcomed her with gentle courtesy. He was thoroughly pleased, he admitted to Penelope, by the American girl's manner. Evidently her companionship would not be an injury to his beloved niece.
Nora Mayne often speaks of that bewilderingly happy day. By eleven o'clock she and Penelope were in the Deanery carriage on their way to Mrs. Bruce's. The elder girl had made Nora feel thoroughly at ease about the favors lavished upon her.
"You see," she said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "I was just needing some companion. Here in England we always engage companions for lonely sisterless girls like me" (a firm pressure of Nora's hand followed this), "and yet it is so hard to find just the right person. It has to be"—Penny hastily reviewed what she knew of Nora's capabilities—"it has to be a young girl who is fond of music, and charity visiting, and walking, and driving, and studying a great deal. Perhaps you wouldn't like the place, Nora? Of course you have only to say so, dear. And the salary I meant to give isn't very large—about £250 a year. Perhaps your mother and my aunt will decide about it."
What could Nora do but fling her arms around her new friend's neck and burst into happy tears? And what could she find to say when, an hour later, as they started for Mrs. Bruce's shop, Penelope placed a little purse in her hands, whispering, "I thought, dear, you'd like some of your salary in advance, as you said it worried you so much to owe Mrs. Bruce."
Mary Jane was busily engaged sorting wools when the Deanery carriage appeared and its occupants descended. She gave a little scream that brought her aunt from the back parlor. Through the glass of the door Mrs. Bruce recognized Nora, and flung the door open widely.
"My bonny lamb!" she cried out, and folded Nora in her arms warmly. What an hour that was! To behold Nora as Miss Penelope Harleford's chosen friend was to make her more than ever dear to Mrs. Bruce. The two young people sat down in Mrs. Bruce's parlor, Mary Jane hovering in the background, her broad face fairly shining with smiles. But I think the final triumph was when Mr. James Bruce's swaggering figure appeared in the doorway, his eyes lighting first upon Nora.
"Well, miss," he said, coarsely, "I hope you've come with our money—our honest due." He proceeded no further, for the young lady of the Manor stood up, saying, quietly:
"Miss Mayne has settled with your mother, Mr. Bruce."
His tone changed at once, profuse apologies and the most servile manner only half covering his mortification. He seemed glad to disappear, and Nora and her friend enjoyed a hearty laugh over his discomfiture when they were once more in the carriage. Their next stopping-place was at Searle's, the grocer, where Penelope insisted that Nora should order various delicacies to be sent for Mrs. Mayne to the Deanery. Mr. Searle was all good-humor, and his sharp-faced wife came out of the parlor rubbing her hands, and bowing a dozen times to the heiress of the Manor, who was so evidently the friend of their late unprofitable customer. Penelope took great pains to consult Nora's wishes or opinions on every point, saying, "Nora dear, shall you care for any more grapes?" or, "Nora, didn't we decide upon apricot jam?"
Such judicious remarks impressed Mrs. Searle deeply, and of course she soon learned that the young lady of the Manor was Miss Mayne's dearest friend.