"Dirt cheap," said the old man. "I'll let _you_ have it for
eighteenpence."
Pennie had exactly that sum in her purse. "Do come away, Miss Pennie,"
said Nurse's voice behind her.
"Why don't you buy it?" said Nancy; "you won't have such a chance
again."
Pennie gulped down a sort of sob. "I should love to," she said, "but I
want to keep my money."
"Well, if you're not going to buy, you'd better not look at it any
more," said Nancy; "I haven't got any money."
With an immense effort, and a parting glance full of affection at
"_Siegfried the Dragon Slayer_," Pennie turned away from the stall, much
to Nurse's relief. Soon the old man and his books were lost to sight,
but they remained very clearly and distinctly in Pennie's mind. She saw
the picture of that flying man more vividly than all that was going on
round her, and would have given worlds to be acquainted with his
history. If only she had more money, enough to buy the book and the
mandarin too!
Then she began to wonder how the boys had spent theirs. No doubt they
had bought just what had taken their fancy, and she would be the only
one to go back empty-handed. It was a little hard. The only drop of
comfort in it was that she would be able to tell them what a real
sacrifice she had made. Yesterday she had seen David writing ten times
over in his copy-book, "_Virtue is its own reward_." If that meant
feeling good, better than other people, Pennie had no doubt she was
tasting the reward of virtue now, and it consoled her not a little for
the loss of "_Siegfried the Dragon Slayer_."
It was now nearly four o'clock, and Nurse was not sorry to turn towards
the entrance, where Andrew was to wait with the carriage, and where she
hoped to join the boys and Jane.
"They're there already," cried Nancy as they approached the turnstile,
bobbing her head from side to side to see through the crowd, "and oh!
what _has_ David got?"
Nurse groaned.
"Something he oughtn't to have, I make sure," she said.
"It's something alive!" exclaimed Nancy, giving a leap of delight as
they got nearer, "I can see it move. Whatever is it?"
David was standing as still as a sentinel with his back against the
gate-post and a look of triumph on his face, clutching firmly to his
breast a small jet-black kitten. It was mewing piteously, with some
reason--for in his determination not to let it go, he gripped it hard,
so that it was spread out flat and could hardly breathe. The children
gathered round him in an ecstasy.
"What a little black love!" exclaimed Nancy; "where did you get it?"
"I saved its life," was all David answered as Nurse packed them all into
the waggonette.
"I helped," said Ambrose.
It was not until they were fairly on their way and had shaken down into
something like composure, that the history of the kitten could be told.
It then appeared that David and Ambrose had heard feeble cries
proceeding from a retired corner behind a caravan. They had at once
left Jane, and gone to see what it was.
Finding two gypsy boys about to hang a black kitten, they had offered
them sixpence to let it go, at which they had only laughed. The price
had then risen to two shillings besides all the marbles Ambrose had in
his pocket, and this being paid David had seized the kitten, and here it
was.
"And so," said Pennie, "you've both spent every bit of your money."
"We couldn't let them hang the kitten, you see," remarked Ambrose.
At another time Pennie would have been the first to agree to this, and
to feel interested in the rescue of the kitten; but now she was so full
of her own good deed, that she only said coldly:
"It wasn't worth nearly all that. Why, you can get a kitten for
nothing--anywhere."
David, still grasping his treasure, stared at her solemnly, for this
speech was strangely unlike Pennie.
"What did you buy?" he asked.
The moment had come. Pennie looked round her with conscious virtue as
she replied, "I saw a book I wanted very much, quite as much as you
wanted the kitten, but I saved all my money for the mandarin."
"How stupid!" said Ambrose.
"It's much better to save someone's life than to buy a mandarin," said
David.
Pennie felt hurt and disappointed; the reward of virtue was not
supporting under these circumstances. She wanted a word of praise or
admiration. If someone had only said, "That _was_ good of you," she
would have been satisfied; but no one seemed even surprised at what she
had done. And yet how much she would have liked to buy Siegfried! The
boys had the kitten; Nancy had her cocoa-nut, even Dickie was clasping a
rabbit on a green stand, and a gingerbread man. Pennie alone had
brought nothing home from the fair; she was very sorry for herself.
A sudden outburst from Dickie roused her, as she sat sad and silent in
the midst of chatter and laughter. No one could make out at first what
was the matter, and Dickie could not tell them: she only kicked out her
fat little legs and sobbed more convulsively at every fresh attempt to
comfort her. But at last she managed to make them understand that her
gingerbread man was spoilt; she had eaten his head, and he would never,
never be whole again. This was followed by a torrent of tears, for
Dickie never did anything by halves, and when she cried she put her
whole heart into it.
"Bless the child, she'll make herself ill," said Nurse, taking her upon
her knee. "Now, Dickie, my dear, don't give way. You know you can stop
if you like. Look at your pretty rabbit!"
Dickie dealt the offered rabbit a blow on the nose with her doubled
fist.
She did not want the rabbit, she sobbed out, but she thought she could
stop if she had the black kitten to hold. To this David had a decided
objection. It was his kitten, and if Dickie had it she would let it go.
Fresh screams from Dickie.
"Lor, Master David," said Nurse in despair, "let her have it, do. I'll
take care it don't get away."
Peace was somewhat restored after Dickie had been allowed to stroke the
kitten on Nurse's lap; but it was not a cheerful carriageful that
arrived shortly afterwards at the Vicarage, every one seemed to have
something to grumble at and be injured about.
"I'm thankful to be home," said Nurse to Jane as they went upstairs.
"I'd rather anyday have a week's work than an afternoon's pleasure."
As for Pennie, she dropped her money into the china-house, and went to
bed that night with the feelings of a martyr. She would not give up her
plan, but she was now beginning to see that it was a failure. No one
showed any real interest in it--no one except herself was willing to
sacrifice anything in the cause. It was certainly lonely and
uncomfortable to stand so high above other people.