advantage,
and she spent much time in gazing into shop-windows, her brow puckered
with care and her purse clutched tightly in her hand. Ethelwyn's
advice, which might have been useful under these circumstances, was
quite the reverse; for the suggestions she made were absurdly above
Pennie's means, and only confusing to the mind.

"I should buy that," she would say, pointing to something which was
worth at least a shilling.

Pennie soon left off listening to her, and bent her undivided attention
to the matter--how to buy seven presents with five pence halfpenny? It
might have puzzled a wiser head than Pennie's; but at last, by dint of
much calculation on the fingers, she arrived with a mind at rest at the
following results:-- An india-rubber ball for the baby, a lead pencil
for father, a packet of pins for mother, a ball of twine for Ambrose, a
paint-brush for Nancy, a pen-holder for David, and a tiny china dog for
Dickie.

Ethelwyn was very impatient long before the shopping was done.

"Oh, spend the rest in sweets," she said over and over again in the
midst of Pennie's difficulties.

But Pennie only shook her head, and would not even look at chocolate
creams or sugar-candy until she had done her business satisfactorily.

In the evening she amused herself by packing and unpacking the presents,
and printing the name of each person on the parcels, while Miss Unity
read aloud. It was not a very amusing book, and Ethelwyn, who had spent
all her money on sweets and eaten more of them than was good for her,
felt cross and rather sick and discontented. She yawned and fidgeted,
and frowned as openly as she dared, for she was afraid of Miss Unity;
and when at last bed-time came, and the little girls were alone, she
expressed her displeasure freely.

"I can't bear stopping here," she said. "It's a dull, ugly old place, I
think I wish I was back in London."

"Well, so you will be the day after to-morrow," replied Pennie shortly.
She did not like even Ethelwyn to abuse Nearminster, and she was
beginning to be just a little tired of hearing so much about London.

Unfortunately for Ethelwyn's temper the next day was decidedly wet--so
wet that even Miss Unity could not get out into the market, and settled
herself with a basket of wools for a morning's work. Through the
streaming window-panes the grass in the Close looked very green and the
Cathedral very grey; the starlings were industriously pecking at the
slugs, and