by L. T. Meade
other girls uninvited. Now, whatis it you want? I am busy entertaining friends."
"Flirting with Bertie, you mean."
"I don't flirt--how dare you say so? He is a very nice boy. He is agentleman, and you are not a lady."
"Oh, indeed! I'm not a lady. My father's daughter is not a lady! Waittill I tell that to Marcia."
Penelope was alarmed. She knew that if this speech reached her father'sears he would be seriously displeased with her.
"I didn't mean that, of course, Nesta, you know I didn't I like you foryourself, and of course you are quite a lady. All the same you oughtn'tto have come here now and--and force yourself on us."
"Well, I'll go if you give me what I have come for."
"What is that?"
They were now approaching the house by a side entrance.
"You needn't be bothered about your tea, for I don't want it," saidNesta. "I'm choking with thirst, but I don't want your tea--you whohave said I'm not a lady. As to Flossie, she doesn't want your teaeither. We'd rather choke than have it. There's a shop in the HighStreet where we can get ginger beer and chocolates. The ginger beerwill go pop and we'll enjoy ourselves. It's fifty times nicer than yourhorrid tea. But I'll tell you what I do want--my yellow-boy."
"Your what?" said Penelope, looking at her in bewilderment.
"My beautiful, precious, darling twenty shillings. Only they must begiven me in gold of the realm."
"Nesta, what do you mean? Your twenty shillings!"
"Come," said Nesta, "that's all very fine. But did you, or did you notmake a bet with me?"
Penelope seemed to remember. She put her hand to her forehead.
"Oh, that," she said, with a laugh. "But that was pure nonsense!"
"It was a true bet; you wrote it down in your book and I wrote it downin mine. It's as true as true can be. You wrote--I remember the wordsquite well--`If Clay gets an introduction through Marcia Aldworth toMiss Angela St Just, I will pay Nesta one sovereign; and if she fails,Nesta is to give me one sovereign.' Now did you, or did you not, makeme that bet?"
"Oh, it was a bit of fun--a joke."
"It isn't a joke; it's real earnest. I tell you what; I'll go straightto your father and tell him before every one present what has reallyhappened. I'll tell him that you made a bet and won't keep it, for Ihave won," said Nesta excitedly. "You ask Clay if I haven't. Clay wasat our house this morning, and Angela called. Blessed thing! I seenothing in her. She was introduced to your Clay, and your Clay hopes tobring her here to Court Prospect, and if I haven't earned my sovereign,I want to know who has. So now."
"Really and truly, Nesta, I wish you wouldn't talk so loud. Oh, look atall those people coming this way. They'll see us, and Clay will callme. I see Clay with them."
"Let her call. I'd like her to. I'd like to explain before every onethat you never kept your bet."
"Oh, do come into the house, Nesta. Do for pity's sake."
Penelope dragged the fierce and rebellious Nesta into the house by theside door.
"Now," she said, "sit down and cool yourself. What will Bertie say? andhe came here specially on my invitation. He is my guest. I'm awfullysweet on him. I am really, and--oh dear, oh dear--I don't care aboutAngela St Just, and I don't believe that she was introduced to Clay."
"Well, you ask Clara. I'll shout to her--I say, Clara!"
"Stop, Nesta! You must be mad!"
Penelope put her hand over Nesta's mouth.
"Give me my yellow-boy and I'll be off," she said, pushing backPenelope's hand as she tried to force her from the window.
"I haven't got it now; I'll bring it to-morrow."
"I won't stir from here till I get it," said Nesta. "I suppose with allyour riches you can raise one sovereign. I want it and I'm not goingaway without it. Flossie and I are going to have ginger beer andchocolates at Simpson's, in the High Street, and we're not going to bedocked of our pleasure because you are too fine a lady to care."
"Oh dear; oh dear!" said Penelope. "What is to be done? I haven't gotthe money--I really haven't."
"Well, I suppose some of you have. I see your father on the lawn; I'llrun up to him and tell him. If I talk out loud enough he will give itto me. I know he will."
"Nesta, you are driving me nearly mad!"
"Let me have the money and I'll go."
"Pen, Pen! Where are you?" called Mabel's voice at that moment, fromthe garden.
"They want me. Bertie will think I've deserted him. Oh, Nesta, you aredriving me distracted."
But Nesta stood her ground. Penelope stood and reflected. She had notmuch money of her own, and what money she got usually melted through herfingers like water. Her sisters had long ago discovered this andentrusted her with but little. Her father always said she could havewhat she pleased within reason, but he never gave her any sort ofallowance.
"Time enough when you are grown up, Pussie," he used to say, as hepulled her long red-gold hair.
Now she looked out on the sunlit garden; on the pleasant scene, onBertie's elegant young figure, on the boys and girls who were disportingthemselves in the sunshine and under the trees. Then she glanced at herown really elegant little person, and then at Nesta, untidy, cross, anddisagreeable. How could she by any possibility have liked such a girl?She must be got rid of somehow, for there was Mabel's voice again.
"Stay a minute," she said to Nesta. "Don't dare to go out. I'll get itfor you somehow. You are the most horrid girl in the world."
She flew upstairs; Clara's door was open; Clara's room, as usual, was indisorder. Penelope frantically opened drawer after drawer. Could shefind a loose sovereign anywhere? Clara often left them about; to herthey meant very little. But she could find no loose money in Clara'sroom. She went from there to Mabel's; from Mabel's to Annie's. Whatpossessed the girls? There wasn't even a shilling to be found amongsttheir possessions. Gold bracelets in plenty, necklaces, jewellery ofall sorts, but the blessed money which would restore Penelope to thelawn, to the tennis court, to all her delights, was not forthcoming.
Her father's room came last. She rushed into it. Nesta was desperate;Nesta might confront her father on the lawn. She would tell him in theevening--he would forgive her. She ran in; she opened one of hisdrawers and took out a purse which he kept there to pay the men's wageson Saturday. Invariably each Monday morning he put the required suminto that special old purse. There were twenty sovereigns in it now.Penelope helped herself to one, snapped the purse to, shut the drawer,and ran downstairs.
"There!" she said to Nesta. "Now, for goodness' sake go. Don't worryme whatever happens. I've given it to you, and I'm free; but catch meever making a bet with you again."
"Oh, I don't care!" said Nesta. "My darling little yellow-boy. Thankyou, Penelope, thank you."
But Penelope had vanished.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
TROUBLESOME CONSEQUENCES.
On the whole Penelope Carter was a fairly good child. She had been verycross when disturbed by Nesta; but when she returned to the lawn hergood humour immediately came back. She looked almost pretty, for therewas much more character in her face than her sisters'. She ran aboutnow, charming many people by her bright presence, and more than onevisitor remarked that Penelope would be the best-looking of the Carters,and certainly had more character in her face than her sisters.
The gay party came to an end, and with it, some of Penelope's goodspirits. When she had taken the sovereign from her father's purse, shehad certainly not had the slightest idea of concealing the fact fromhim. A sovereign, as she knew, meant but little in that establishment.He would thank her for not allowing that wicked Nesta to disgrace him inpublic. He would pat her on the cheek and say: "Well done, littlewoman; I am glad you were good enough to confess!" and there would be anend of the matter.
This was Penelope's thought in cold blood; but when she reflected moreover the matter, it seemed to her that the thing was not so easy as ithad appeared when
in the heat of the conflict with Nesta she hadpurloined the money. Mr Carter was very fond of his children; he was avery good-hearted, upright sort of man, ambitious, but without a scrapof taste; thoroughly upright and honest in all his dealings; he did notowe a penny in the world. He had made his money by honest toil, and hewas proud of it. To rise in the opinion of the world seemed to him avery laudable thing to do. He hoped to establish his children
