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It would have been impossible to him to have forgotten to feed the dormouse for a week as Nancy did, or to have left Sappho the canary without any water, which Pennie to her great agony of mind was once guilty of doing.
There was another matter which Pennie had not advanced since her visits to Nearminster, and that was her acquaintance with Kettles. She neither saw nor heard anything of her, which was not surprising, since neither Miss Unity nor the Merridews were likely to know of her existence. To Nancy, however, it seemed absurd that Pennie should go every week to Nearminster and bring back no news at all.
His face was as smooth as a boy's or woman's ... on each cheek a patch here and there of hair, like the hair on an old maid's face. More than a year later his wife confided to me that "Pennie," as she dubbed him affectionately, could not grow a beard ... and she laughed at his solemnly shaving once a week, as a matter of ritual, anyhow....
Then Nancy laughed at him, and David pushed him down, and Pennie covered him with hay; and it got into his eyes and down his throat and he choked and kicked, and mother said: "That will do, children!" Then tea was brought out and laid under the great oak-tree, and everyone's face was very red, and everyone was very thirsty.
"Will anyone agree to the plan?" asked Pennie dejectedly, for she felt that the proposal had been a failure. To her surprise David turned round from the row of hutches. "I will," he said, "because she was so kind once, but I can't give it every week. I'll give it when I don't want it very much for something else." Ambrose remained silent a little while.
They were as much shut out from all it had to give as those dusky inhabitants of another country with whose condition Nearminster had lately been concerned. Pennie's words occurred to Miss Unity. "I know Anchor and Hope Alley, and that makes it so much nicer." She looked down at her side where was Pennie?
Three weeks of nursing, scrubbing, minding children and running errands had not improved poor Kettles' appearance. The same old bonnet, which Pennie remembered, hung back from her head, but it was more crushed and shapeless; the big boots had large holes in them, and the bony little hand, which clasped a bottle to her chest, was more like a black claw than ever.
Even Dickie's hair, which wanted to curl, was sternly checked, and kept closely cropped like a boy's; it was only Cicely's that was allowed at present to do as it liked and wave about in soft little rings of gold. Pennie made her plans and thought her thoughts, and often went to bed with Ethelwyn's imaginary figure so strongly before her that she had wonderful dreams.
"All is not gold that glitters, Miss Pennie," Nurse would say, or, "Handsome is that handsome does;" but it made no impression at all; Pennie continued to feel sure that what looked pretty must be good, and that a fair outside meant perfection within. She stood thoughtfully watching Nurse as she put the bonnets away. It would be nice to wear a scarlet handkerchief over your head like that gypsy.
"I don't like her at all," she said to herself, "and if she doesn't want to talk to me, I'm sure I don't want to talk to her." "We've always been taught by Miss Lacy," said Ethel at last, "but of course it's much better to have a master." "I should like Miss Lacy best," said Pennie; and while Ethel was receiving this answer with another long stare, Monsieur Deville was announced.
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