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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Union is strength," said the motto; and as she read it over for the twentieth time a sudden and splendid idea flashed across her mind. "Of course!" she exclaimed aloud in triumph. "Another bad mark, Pennie," said Miss Grey; for talking in school hours was one of Pennie's failings.
But things turned out unfortunately, for when Miss Unity and Pennie, in their best dresses, arrived on Friday evening at the deanery they were both shown into the drawing-room. There were a good many guests assembled, and two of the girls were there, but the first person who caught Pennie's eye was the dean himself, standing on the rug, coffee-cup in hand, smiling and talking.
When the children entered, Nancy was lazily swinging herself backwards and forwards while she watched David, who moved steadily from hutch to hutch, with a box of bran under one arm and a huge bunch of green meat under the other. "Come and hear Pennie's plan," said Ambrose; "she won't tell it till you all listen."
But now there was one day, Pennie's day, as Miss Unity called it in her thoughts, which was quite different from any other in the week.
The crock must take its chance of discovery. Perhaps in a little while he should be able to forget its existence altogether and be quite happy again. But it was not easy, and, as if on purpose to prevent it, Pennie's stories had just now taken the direction of dire and dreadful subjects. They varied a good deal at different times, and depended on the sort of books she could get to read.
Would that small hand never reach the hour of three? Nurse's proverb of a "watched kettle never boils" came into Pennie's mind, and she resolved not to look at the clock again until the hour struck. The word "kettle" made her think of Kettles and of Nancy's last letter, and she wondered whether Miss Unity would go to the College that afternoon, as she had half promised.
"Now I don't mind him at all myself. I don't take any count of what he says, and I always think `hard words break no bones; but it's different for such as you." "Who looks after the poor thing while she's so ill and helpless?" asked Miss Unity, taking out her purse. "That's the wonder of it," said Nurse. "The eldest's a girl of Miss Pennie's age, but not near so big.
Deceit has the effect of impoverishing, as well as enriching, men: the prodigal becomes poor by pretending to be richer than he really is, while seeming poverty is the very making of a miser. We understand Mr. Pennie's design, in this volume, to be the chronological arrangement of certain incidents of each king's reign in a series of National Tragedies.
Miss Unity could hardly believe her ears, for, of course, the next step on Mrs Merridew's part was to wonder if Mrs Hawthorne would let her children join the class. Could anything be more fortunate, not only because of Pennie's deportment, but because it would give her a chance of improving her acquaintance with the dean's daughters. It was the very thing of all others to be wished.
But the old man had dived beneath his stall, and now produced a book on which Pennie's eyes were immediately fastened with the deepest interest. "There!" he said, laying it before her, "there's the book to suit you, my little lady." It was a square book in a gaily-coloured parchment cover, somewhat faded, but still showing attractive devices of shields, swords, and dragons.
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