dug it themselves."

Ethelwyn looked round, with her little pointed nose held rather high in
the air:

"Why don't you keep it neater?" she said. "What an untidy place!"

It was a blow to Pennie to hear this, but the truth of it struck her
forcibly, and she now saw for the first time that to a stranger the
Wilderness might not be very attractive. There were, of course, no
flowers now, and Dickie had tumbled a barrowful of leaves on to the
middle of Pennie's border, which was further adorned by a heap of oyster
shells, with which David intended some day to build a grotto. It looked
more like a rubbish heap than a garden, and the close neighbourhood of
the well did not improve it. There was only one cheerful object in the
Wilderness just now, and that was a little monthly rose-bush in Dickie's
plot of ground, which, in spite of most unfavourable circumstances, bore
two bright pink blossoms.

After glancing scornfully round, Ethelwyn stooped and stretched out her
hand to pick the roses; but Pennie caught hold of her dress in alarm.

"Oh, you mustn't," she cried; "they're Dickie's."

Ethelwyn looked up astonished.

"Who's Dickie?" she said; "what does he want them for?"

"It isn't `he,' it's `she,'" said Nancy; "she's the youngest but one,
and she's saving them for mother's birthday."

"Wouldn't it be a joke," said Ethelwyn laughing, "to pick them? She'd
never know where they'd gone."

Pennie could not see anything funny in this idea at all, but she
remembered what Mrs Hawthorn had said about making their guest happy in
her own way, and she felt obliged to answer:

"If you want to do it _very_ much you may."

She was sorry to see that Ethelwyn immediately pulled both the little
roses off the tree, but tried to excuse her in her own mind. She did
not understand, perhaps, how much Dickie wanted them. Such a pretty
graceful creature as Ethelwyn _could_ not do anything purposely unkind.

Nancy, however, not the least dazzled by Ethelwyn's appearance, was
boiling with anger.

"I call that--" she began; but Pennie nudged her violently and
whispered: "She's a visitor," and the outspoken opinion was checked.

David, too, turned the general attention another way just then; he came
gravely up to Ethelwyn and inquired:

"Do you like animals?"

"Animals?" said Ethelwyn; "oh, you mean pets. Yes, I like them
sometimes."

"Then I'll show you my pig," said David.

"A pig!" exclaimed Ethelwyn in rather a sque