off you go. Here is my Gladstone bag; I'll pack yourthings and see you to the station."
Jim's heart had jumped into his mouth when his father began to speak,but before it came to an end he was aflame with excitement and delight.Here, truly, was an honour! Penelope and her small troubles were ascompletely forgotten as though they had never existed. He delighted inthe sudden honour thrust upon him; he vowed that he would do it well, ifhis very life were demanded of him.
His quick dressing, his hurried getting downstairs; his father helpinghim and beseeching him not to make the slightest noise, made it all asmysterious as one of Henty's adventures. The breakfast which his fatherhimself got for him; the quick walk to the station; the hurriedgood-bye, when he found himself in a first-class carriage in the train,and his father looking proud and confident, all dazzled his young head,and Penelope and her stolen sovereign were as though they had neverbeen. But when Penelope awoke that morning, the very first person shethought of was Jim. She and Annie shared a room together. Annie wasnot particularly fond of Penelope; she was the least interesting of theCarter girls; she was a little more commonplace and a little moreabsorbed in herself than her elder sisters.
"There is one thing I'm going to ask father," said Annie, as theydressed that morning, "that is after we return from the seaside--if Imay have a room to myself. I really can't stand the higgledy-piggledyway you keep your things in, Pen."
"Oh, I hate being tidy!" said Pen. "I wonder where Jim is. Jim is abrick of bricks; the dearest, darlingest, nicest fellow in the world."
"Oh, my word!" cried Annie, "why is Jim in such high favour? I neverheard you go into raptures about him before."
"I never found him out until last night," said Penelope.
"And you found him out last night? Pray, in what way," said Annie.
"Ah, that's a secret," said Pen. "I'm not going to tell you."
"If there's a thing in this wide world I'd be deaved to death about, itwould be one of your stupid secrets," said Annie. "Why, you're nothingbut a child; and as to Jim, I don't believe he has made you hisconfidante."
"Yes, he has, though; yes, he has," said Penelope, and she dashed aboutthe room, making the most of what she thought would tease her sister.
"You, indeed!" said Annie, as she brushed out her long hair and put itup in the most fashionable style--"you, with your Nesta and your FlossieGriffiths."
"With my what?" said Penelope--"My Flossie?"
"Yes, with that common girl. Half of us saw you yesterday, walking withNesta. Really, it is too bad of her to come on our festive occasions insuch a shabby dress."
"Well, that has nothing to do with Jim. Now, I'm going down tobreakfast," said Pen.
But she felt a little nervous as she entered the breakfast room. Jimhad given her to understand that he would meet her there, and before therest of the party came down, he would get her to confide in theirfather. But Mr Carter, more red than usual in the face, and slightlydisturbed in his mind, for he wondered if he had done right to put suchconfidence in his young son, was sitting alone at the breakfast table.He shouted to Penelope when he saw her.
"Come along, Lazybones, and pour out my coffee for me."
She obeyed; then she said, looking up and speaking, in spite of herself,a trifle uneasily:
"Where's Jim?"
"What do you want to know about Jim?" said her father, in someirritation. He had dreaded this inquiry, but had not thought it wouldcome from little Shallow-pates, as he called his youngest daughter.However, he must account for Jim's absence in some sort of fashion.
"You won't see Jim for two or three days," he said. "Not for two orthree days," said Penelope, and her small, round childish face lookedalmost haggard. "You mean that he won't be home before Saturday?"
"Bless you, no; he'll certainly be away till then. Now that's all aboutit. Why, good gracious, child; I didn't know you cared so much forhim!"
She turned away to choke down the lump in her throat. The other girlscame in but they did not even trouble to inquire for their brother. MrCarter, however, thought it best to make his communication.
"Jim has gone to stay with one of his schoolfellows unexpectedly; aletter came for him last night. I thought it best he should accept. Itis one of the Holroyds. Very respectable people the Holroyds are.Well, girls, what are you staring at?"
"I didn't know we were staring," said Clara. "I'm very glad Jim hasgone. But what a violent hurry he went off in."
"Well, that's his affair, I suppose. Boys like your brother don't wantthe grass to grow under their feet. Anyhow, he's off, and he won't beback,"--Pen raised her face--"for a week or ten days; so you'll have todo without him at the seaside for a few days."
Pen slowly left the room.
"I don't believe he has gone to the Holroyds'," she said. She mountedthe stairs and entered her brother's bedroom. She opened the drawersand peeped into his wardrobe.
"He has not taken his best clothes," she thought, "and if the Holroydsare swells, he'd want them. He hasn't gone to the Holroyds! Whateveris the matter?"
Then she sat down very moodily on a chair in the centre of the room.
"He promised he'd help me, and he hasn't. He has forgotten all aboutit, and he has gone away, and it's not to the Holroyds. He won't beback before Saturday, and whatever, whatever am I to do?"
Penelope was not left long to her own meditations. She was calleddownstairs by Clara, who gave the little girl several commissions to dofor her.
"You have got to drive into Newcastle; the pony trap will be at the doorin a quarter of an hour's time. You have got to get all these things atJohnson's, and then you are to go to Taylor's and ask them for my newthings, and be sure you see that they have selected the right shade ofblue for my ties. Then do--"
Here Clay thrust a long list of commissions into her sister's hand.
"All right," said Penelope.
"Be home as quick as ever you can; we are expecting some people herethis afternoon, the Mauleverers and the Chelmsfords. It seems to methat we are getting to know all the county set. Go, the very lastthing, to Theodor's and get the ices and the cakes that I ordered. Now,do look sharp, Pen. You have no time to lose."
Pen was quite agreeable. There was nothing to pay, for the Carters hadaccounts at the different shops where she was going. Just for theminute she looked wistfully into her sister's face.
"If I could but tell her," she thought. "But I don't suppose she'dunderstand. Well, I suppose if Jim doesn't come back, and there's nohope of that, and if he quite forgets to write, I'll have to confide inClay before Saturday, for I couldn't face father if he found out withoutmy telling him."
Penelope thought and thought during her drive. All of a sudden itflashed upon her that she might write a note to Jim. She could go tothe post office--or still better she could stop at the Aldworths' on herway back, and ask for writing materials, and send a letter to him at theHolroyds'. The Holroyds did not live so very far away, only twentymiles at the furthest. Jim would probably get his letter that night; hewould be certain to receive it the first thing in the morning.
Pen felt quite happy when she remembered this very easy way of remindingJim of his promise. She knew the Holroyds' address quite well, for Jimhad often spoken of it. There was George, and there was Tom, and theylived at a place called The Chase. Yes, she could easily get a letterto reach Jim at that address.
Accordingly she went through her commissions with ease and despatch, forshe had, notwithstanding her youth, a wise little head on her shoulders.Then she desired the coachman to drive rapidly to the Aldworths' house.
Just at that moment a voice sounded on her ears, and looking round shesaw Flossie Griffiths.
"Stop! stop! Pen! Do stop!" called out Flossie. Pen did not likebeing called by her Christian name by Flossie Griffiths; still less didshe wish to have anything to do with that young lady, but she did notwell know how to get rid of her. She accordingly desired the man todraw up the little car
riage at the kerbstone, whereupon Flossie saideagerly:
"Oh, you are the very person--you are driving past the Aldworths',aren't you?"
"Yes; have you a message for them?"
"I want to go with you. I want to see Nesta in a very great hurry. Itis most important."
"All right, if you must," said Pen not too cordially. Flossie's naturewas far too blunt to be easily repressed. She jumped into the carriageand sat down, leaning back and feeling herself very important.
"It must be nice to be rich," she said. "I do envy folks with lots ofmoney. I wish my father had made his pile the same as yours has. Oh,isn't it good to lie back against these soft cushions, instead oftramping and tramping on the hard road? Well, I'm going to have a jollytime at Scarborough. Are you going to the seaside, too?"
"Yes," said Pen, "we are going to Whitby."
"I'd much rather go to Scarborough; I went to Whitby once; it isn't halfas jolly."
"Well, I like Whitby," said Pen, absolutely indifferent.
"You don't know what fun I'm going to have, and there's a great secret,too," said Flossie. "Oh, by the way, it was good of you to give Nestathat sovereign. She was nearly mad about it. I never saw anybody insuch a fix. But when you had given it to her she got into the best ofhumours. We had a right good time at the pastrycook's, I can tell you.I never ate so many light cakes in the whole course of my life before.And we are going to have more fun, Nesta and I. By the way, I hopeyou're not jealous."
"Jealous!" said Pen. "What about?"
"Of me and Nesta."
Flossie giggled.
"No; I'm not jealous," said Pen. "I don't quite understand."
"I should think it was pretty easy to understand. Nesta and me--we'vealways been the primest friends--no husband and wife could love eachother better than we do. But then you stepped in, and for a time Ithought there was going to be a rift in the lute,"--Flossie was veryfond of mixed metaphors,--"I really thought there was; but when Nestasaw us both in our true lights, she, of course, would never give me upjust because you are the richest."
"I should hope not," said Pen. "It would be contemptible. But here weare at the Aldworths'. I am going in too."
"Are you? You don't want Nesta, I hope?"
"No; I don't care who I see. I just want a sheet of paper and a pen andsome ink. I have a stamp in my pocket."
"Well, come along; I know the way better than you do," said Flossie.
They went up to the front entrance, and Flossie rang the bell. Then shepressed her face against the glass of the side window.
"Oh, dear," she said, "I see that dreadful, stately old-maidish MissAldworth coming downstairs. Don't let her see me. Just let me hidebehind you. There, that's better."
Pen stood back a little stiffly. Presently the door was opened byMarcia herself.
"How do you do, Flossie?" she said. "How do you do, Miss Carter?"
"I have come," said Flossie, "to see Nesta. Where is she?"
"You cannot see her at present. She is engaged with her mother."
"But mayn't I just see her for the shortest of minutes?"
"I am sorry you cannot. Have you any message for me to take to her?"
"No; yes, that is if you are quite sure I can't see her."
"I am certain on the subject. She is very busy with her mother, andcannot possibly be disturbed until after the midday meal."
"Well, tell her--tell her--oh, no; don't tell her anything. You mayjust mention that I called, and, if she is free, I can be in the woodthis afternoon."
"Very well; I'll remember," said Marcia with a grave smile.
Flossie was forced to take her departure, and Penelope, with a sigh ofrelief, turned to Marcia.
"I'd be so awfully obliged to you," she said. "I know it's a cool sortof thing to ask, but I want to write a letter--it's to Jim, my brother.He is staying with people of the name of Holroyd. They're very nicepeople; they're your sort, you know. He has gone off rather suddenly,and there's something he was going to do for me, and I want to remindhim. Do you greatly object to my writing him a little note here?"
"Of course not, dear," said Marcia, in her kindest tone. "Come alonginto this room. I'll give you pen, ink, and paper."
She supplied Pen with the necessary materials, and the little girl wroteher note.
"My Darling Jim:
"Don't forget father and the big fat purse on Saturday morning. Yourloving and distracted Pen.
"P.S.--You went off in such a hurry I suppose you forgot, you olddarling. But please, please remember your most wildly distracted sisterPen."
This note was put into an envelope, and was addressed to Mr Jim Carter,care of the Holroyds, The Chase, Dewsbury. Pen took out her littlepurse, which alas! held little or no coins, produced a sticky stamp, putit on the letter, and prepared to leave the house.
In the hall she met Marcia.
"Is your letter ready?" she said. "I am just going to the post. I'llpost it for you."
"When do you think it will get to Dewsbury?" asked Pen, raising ananxious face.
"Oh, that's no way off; it will get there to-night."
"Thank you, so very, very much."
"Good-bye, dear," said Marcia. "I don't seem to know you as well as theothers."
"Good-bye. I'm ever so grateful," said Pen.
She wrung Marcia's hand.
"How nice she is. How kind she is--not a bit like the others," thoughtthe child.
Marcia, as she dropped the letter into the post, glanced at the address.She smiled a little and then forgot all about it. Penelope went homein a far happier state of mind. Surely there was deliverance at hand.Jim, if he could not come back, and she did not expect him even for hersake, to leave such wonderfully grand people as the Holroyds, would atleast write a long, explanatory letter to his father.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
SEASIDE ANTICIPATIONS.
Meanwhile Nesta was very full of her own interests. Things were goingin what might be considered a middling way at the Aldworths'. MrsAldworth was no worse, but she was not much better. She was sufferinggreatly from the heat, and yet she was not strong enough to be moved.Nurse Davenant still remained, and kept the invalid in comfort, and sawthat she got the necessary food, and was not worried or neglected.Molly and Ethel were busy over their own concerns; they were forced todevote so much time, and Nesta was also required to be on duty for acertain time each day. The fright the girls had sustained when theirmother was so seriously ill had not yet passed from their minds. Itsmemory still had power to move them. They were still alarmed when theythought of it.
But Nesta was less full of fear than her sisters, although her grief andterror had been greater at the time. Hers was the most elastic nature,perhaps in some ways the most unfaithful. She was now feverishlyanxious to get away to Scarborough. She had ventured, on the morningafter she had received her beloved yellow-boy, to sound Ethel on thesubject of that visit.
"Do you think they'd let me go?" she said.
"Who are `they'?" asked Ethel.
"Oh, you know--father, and Marcia--old Marcia, and Horace."
"If you ask me for my opinion," said Ethel, "I should once and for alladvise you to put it right out of your head. You haven't the mostremote chance of going away. You are required at home."
"I'm not much use, am I?"
"Frankly, you are not. You spilt mother's beef tea yesterday, anddropped the ink over that new fancy work which she takes so muchpleasure in amusing herself with; and you screamed out and startled herfrightfully when you were in the garden and thought you were stung by awasp when you weren't. I don't see what particular use you are toanybody."
"Then, if that is the case," said Nesta, "why can't I go away and enjoymyself? I can't help being alive, you know. I must be somewhere in theworld, and if I'm such a bother here, why shouldn't I go off with oldFloss and have a good time? Floss doesn't think me a worry. Floss andI could have a good time."
"By what possible right ought you to have a good time? There's Molly,the eldest of us, and there's me, and what chance have we of going intothe country or to the seaside, or having any fun? There's nobody at allin this hateful Newcastle, or in its suburbs, in the summer. There'snothing but the horrible coal-dust in the air, and the whole place ischoking at times."
"But really not out where we live," said Nesta, who must be honest atany cost.
"Well, anyhow, we're not in the most charming part of the country, andthat you know quite well. But if you ask me, I should say that you hadbest give up the idea of going. You can do as you please, of course."
"Yes, I can do what I please; but I can't see, even if mother is ill,why four girls should be kept to wait on her."
"There won't be four. Marcia is going to the St Justs' next week.She's going away for a whole month. The doctor has ordered it. He saysshe isn't