Girls of the Forest Part 39

She marched in a most defiant and even queenly style towards the house; and the others, after laughing for a moment, returned to their various pursuits and forgot all about her.

When nurse saw Penelope she uttered a groan.

"There you come," she said. "You are a handful! You never turned up at dinner-time, although we looked for you everywhere. Now, where were you hiding?"

"Never mind that, nursey. Get out your writing 'terials."

"Now, whatever does the child mean? Sakes! you are scratched, and your nice new holland frock is all torn, and you are dusty and pale and trembling--as pale and trembling as can be."

"Is it pale I am?" cried Penelope. "Is it? Is it? Nursey, I love you, love you, love you!"

With a flop Penelope's fat arms were flung round nurse's neck; her hot little lips caressed nurse's cheeks.

"Oh," she cried, "how much I love you! Get writing 'terials quick. Get pen and ink and paper, and sit down and write. I will tell you what to say. You must write this instant minute. It is the most 'portant thing in all the world. Write, and be quick. If you don't I'll go to Betty, and she'll do what I want her to do."

"You needn't do that," cried nurse. "You are a queer child, and more trouble than you're worth, but when you are in a bit of a mess I'm not the one to refuse my aid. Who have I to write to?"

"To my darlingest Aunt Sophy."

"My word! What on earth have you got to say to her?"

"Get 'terials and you'll know."

Nurse complied somewhat unwillingly. She produced a portfolio, got out her ink-bottle and pen, dipped the pen in ink, and looked up at Penelope.

"Go on, and be quick," she said. "I can't be fashed with the whims of children. What is it that you want to say?"

"Write, 'Dear, darling Aunt Sophia.'"

"You are too queer!"

Nevertheless nurse put the words on the sheet of paper, and Pen proceeded to deliver herself quickly.

"'I am paled down, and want change of air. My breaf is too quick. My legs is all tored with briers and things. I has got a p.r.i.c.kly feeling in my froat, and I gets wet as water all over my hands and round my neck and my forehead. It's 'cos I'm weak, I 'spect.'"

"Miss Penelope," said the nurse, "if those symptoms are correct, it is the doctor you want."

"'I has a doubly-up pain in my tum-tum,'" proceeded Penelope, taking no notice of nurse's interruption. "'I shrieks in my sleep. I wants change of air. I am very poorly. Nursey is writing this, and she knows I am very poorly. I feel sort of as though I could cry. It's not only my body, it's my mind. I has got a weight on my mind. It's a secret, and you ought to know. Send for me quick, 'cos I want change of air.

Pen.'"

"I never wrote a queerer letter," said nurse; "and from the looks of you there seems to be truth in it. You certainly don't look well."

"You will send it, nursey?" asked Pen, trembling with excitement.

"Yes, child; you have dictated it to me, and it shall go by the post.

Whether Miss Tredgold will mind a word you say or not remains to be proved. Now leave me, and do for goodness' sake try not to run about wildly any more for to-day at least."

Penelope left the room. She stooped slightly as she walked, and she staggered a little. When she got near the door she coughed. As she reached the pa.s.sage she coughed more loudly.

"It's my froat," she said in a very sad tone, and she crept down the pa.s.sage, nurse watching her from the open door of the nursery.

She did not guess that when Penelope turned the last corner she gave a sudden whoop, leapt nearly a foot into the air, and then darted out of the house as fast as she could.

"I 'spect I's done it this time," thought Pen.

Meanwhile in the nursery, after a moment's reflection, nurse added a postscript of her own to Pen's letter.

"Miss Penelope is very queer, and don't look well at all."

That letter was put in the post, and in due time received by Miss Tredgold.

Penelope began to count the hours. She knew that no answer could come for some time after the letter was written. During the next day she went at intervals to visit Betty, and begged her for drinks of vinegar; and as she paid Betty by more and more presents out of Pauline's old bandbox, she found that individual quite amenable. After drinking the vinegar Penelope once again suffered from the "doubly-up pain in her tum-tum."

She spoke of her agonies to the others, who pitied her a good deal, and Josephine even presented her with some very precious peppermints for the purpose of removing it. Towards evening she seemed better, and talked continually of the seaside and how she intended to enjoy herself there.

And then she suggested that her sisters should come and help her to pack her things. The girls naturally asked why they were to do it, and she replied:

"'Cos I'm going on a journey, and it's most 'portant. None of you are going, but I am."

"You're not going on any journey," said Lucy. "You do talk rubbish."

"What you bet?" asked Penelope, who saw an instant opportunity of making a little money.

"Nothing," replied Lucy. "You are talking rubbish. Get out of my way. I'm very busy."

Pen looked wildly around her. She was in such a state of suppressed excitement that she could stop at nothing. Her sisters were all close at hand. Patty and Briar were sitting as usual almost in each other's pockets. Adelaide, Josephine, Lucy, and Helen made a group apart. Pen thought carefully.

"There's six of 'em," she said to herself. "I ought to make a little money by six of 'em. Look here!" she called out. "You all say I'm not going on a journey to-morrow; I say I am. Will you give me a penny each if I go? Is it done? Is it truly done? If I don't go I'll give you a penny each."

"But you haven't got any pence to give us."

"I will borrow from nursey. I know she'll lend me the money. But I shan't need it, for I am going. Will you give me a penny each if I go?"

"Oh, yes, if you want it," said Adelaide.

"But remember," continued Lucy, "we shall keep you to your part of the bargain if you don't go."

"All right," cried Pen; and, having received the promise, she walked sedately across the gra.s.s.

"Six pennies! I'll find them useful at the seaside," she thought.

"There's nothing like having a little money of your own. It buys sweetmeats and cakes. I'll tell Aunt Sophy that my froat is so sore, and that I must have constant sweetmeats. Six pennies will get a lot."

She walked more slowly. She was in reality in excellent health; even the vinegar was not doing her much harm.

"How hungry I'll be when I get to the seaside!" she said to herself.

"I'll swell out and get very red and very fat. My body will be 'normous.

Oh, there's father!"

Mr. Dale was seated near his window. His head was bent as usual over his work.