ood child. Is it me that's to be shortened
of my hours of rest by a naughty little thing like this? Come along this
minute, miss, and none of your nonsense."

So Penelope, her heart full of rage, retired into the house with nurse
and baby Marjorie.

"I hope she won't do anything mean and nasty," said Pauline. "It's the
sort of thing she would do, for she's frightfully clever."

"Oh, we needn't consider her," said Verena. "Do let's make up our minds
what to do ourselves."

"I have all sorts of things in my head," said Patty. "The pony-carriage
might break down as it was coming from the station. I don't mean her to
be badly hurt, but I thought she might get just a little bit hurt, so
that she could stay in her bed for twenty-four hours. An aunt in bed
wouldn't be so bad, would she, Renny?"

"I don't know," said Verena. "I suppose we must be polite. She is
mother's half-sister, you know. If mother were alive she would give her a
welcome. And then Padre will have to talk to her. He must explain that
she must go. If he doesn't, we will lead him a life."

The girls talked a little longer. They walked round and round the ugly,
ill-kept lawn; they walked under the beautiful trees, entwined their arms
round each other's waists, and confabbed and confabbed. The upshot of it
all was that on the following day a very large and very shabby bedroom
was got ready after a fashion for Miss Tredgold's arrival; and John, the
sole factotum of the establishment--the man who cleaned the boots and
knives, and swept up the avenue, removed the weeds from the flower-beds,
cleaned the steps whenever they were cleaned, and the windows whenever
they were cleaned--appeared on the scene, leading a tumble-down,
knock-kneed pony harnessed to a very shabby pony-cart.

"I'm off now, miss," he said to Verena, pulling a wisp of hair as he
spoke. "No, miss, there ain't any room. You couldn't possibly sit on the
back seat, for it's as much as ever I'll do to bring the lady home in
this tumble-down conveyance. Our own is too bad for use, and I had to
borrow from Farmer Treherne, and he said he wouldn't trust any horse but
old Jock; this carriage will just keep together until the lady's here."

"But whatever he thinks," said Verena, "do you suppose we can have a
smart, neat carriage ready to take Miss Tredgold back again this day
week? You will see about that, won't you, John?"

"I will, miss. There'll be no difficulty about that; we'll get the lady
a