dark blue like her dress, and she carried
a dear little quilted muff to match. Her features were neat and
straight, and her large violet eyes had long lashes curling upwards;
there was really quite a striking likeness between her face and the Lady
Dulcibella's, except that the cheeks of the latter were bright pink, and
Ethelwyn was delicately pale.

Pennie noticed all this as she advanced slowly up the room, deeply
conscious of the crumpled pinafore and the ink-spot.

"This is Pennie," said her mother, and Ethelwyn immediately held out her
hand, and said, "How do you do?" in rather a prim voice and without any
shyness at all.

"Now I shall give Ethelwyn into your care, Pennie," continued Mrs
Hawthorn. "You may take her into the garden and show her the pets, or
if she likes it better you may go upstairs and play with your dolls.
Make her as happy as you can, and I shall see you all again at
tea-time."

The two little girls left the room together, and Pennie led the way
silently to the garden, giving furtive glances now and then at her
visitor. She felt sure that Ethelwyn would be surprised and pleased,
because mother had said that in London people seldom had gardens; but
her companion made no remark at all, and Pennie put the question which
had been a good deal on her mind:

"What do you like to be called?"

"My name's Ethelwyn," said the little girl.

"Yes, I know," said Pennie. "Mother told us. But I mean, what are you
called for short?"

"I'm _always_ called Ethelwyn. Father and mother don't approve of names
being shortened."

"Oh!" said Pennie deeply impressed. Then feeling it necessary to assert
herself, she added: "_My_ name's Penelope Mary Hawthorn; but I'm always
called Pennie, and sometimes the children call me Pen."

Ethelwyn made no answer; she was attentively observing Pennie's blue
serge frock, and presently asked:

"What's your best dress?"

"It's the same as this," said Pennie, looking down at it meekly, "only
newer."

"Mine's velveteen," said Ethelwyn, "the new shade, you know--a sort of
mouse colour. Nurse says I look like a picture in it. Do you always
wear pinafores?"

Before Pennie had time to answer they had arrived at the Wilderness, and
were now joined by Nancy and the two boys, who came shyly forward to
shake hands.

"These are our gardens," said Pennie, doing the honours of the
Wilderness; "that's mine, and that's Dickie's, and the well belongs to
the others. They