Part 12 (1/2)
”Because I never could fulfil that promise. I shouldn't like to belong to that society at all. I don't know the Africans, and if I work, I'd rather work for Mrs d.i.c.ks.” Penny spoke so quickly that she was quite out of breath.
”And who, my dear child,” said Mrs Hathaway, surprised at Penny's vehemence, ”is Mrs d.i.c.ks?”
She spoke quite kindly, and her face looked softer, so Penny was emboldened to tell her about the whole affair, and how Mrs d.i.c.ks was a very nice woman, and had six children to bring up on nothing.
”I wanted to help her out of the charity-box,” concluded Penny, ”but there's scarcely anything in it.”
Mrs Hathaway looked really interested, and Penny began to think her rather a nice old lady after all. After she and her mother left the house she walked along for some time in deep thought.
”What are you considering, Penny?” asked Mrs Hawthorne at last.
”I think,” said Penny very deliberately, ”that as there's so little in the charity-box I should like to work for Mrs d.i.c.ks' children.”
Mrs Hawthorne knew what an effort this resolve had cost her little daughter.
”Well, dear Penny,” she answered, ”if you do that I think you will be giving her a more valuable gift than the charity-box full of money.”
”Why?” said Penny.
”Because you will give her what costs you most. It is quite easy to put your hand in your box and take out some money; but now, besides the things you make for her, you will have to give her your patience and your perseverance, and also part of the time you generally spend on your beloved books.”
”So I shall!” sighed Penny.
But she kept her resolve and did work for Mrs d.i.c.ks. Very unpleasant she found it at first, particularly when there was some interesting new story waiting to be read.
Gradually, however, there came a time when it did not seem quite so disagreeable and difficult, and she even began to feel a little pride in a neat row of st.i.tches.
The day on which she finished a set of tiny s.h.i.+rts for the baby d.i.c.ks was one of triumph to herself, and of congratulation from the whole household; Mrs d.i.c.ks herself was almost speechless with admiration at Miss Penny's needlework; indeed the finest embroideries, produced by the most skilful hand, could not have been more praised and appreciated.
”Penny,” said Mrs Hawthorne, ”have you looked in the charity-box lately?”
”Why, no, mother,” answered she, ”because I know there's only twopence three farthings in it.”
”Go and look,” said her mother.
And what do you think Penny found? The bright farthing was gone, and in its place there was a s.h.i.+ning little half-sovereign. How did it come there?
That I will leave you to guess.
STORY SIX, CHAPTER 1.
THE BLACK PIGS--A TRUE STORY.
”I know what we must do--we must sell them at the market!”
”Where?”
”At Donnington.”
”We shall want the cart and horse.”