ne; she could never
love her the least little bit again, beautiful and coaxing as she might
be; like the mandarin, she had fallen all the lower because she had once
stood so high.

Then Pennie's thoughts turned longingly towards home. Home, where they
were all fond of her, and knew she was not a deceitful little girl. She
was very sorry now to remember how she had neglected her brothers and
sisters lately for her fine new friend, and how proud and superior she
had felt.

"Oh," she cried to herself in a fervour of repentance, "I never, never
will care so much about `outsides' again! Insides matter much the
most."

The next day passed sorrowfully for Pennie, who felt a heavy cloud of
undeserved disgrace resting upon her. Whenever she saw Miss Unity
glance at the empty space on the mantel-piece, she felt as guilty as
though she really had broken the mandarin, and longed for an opportunity
of justifying herself. But there was no chance of that; the day went on
and Miss Unity asked no questions, and behaved just as usual to the
little girls--only she looked rather sad and stern.

As for Ethelwyn, when she was once quite sure that Pennie would not
"tell," her spirits rose, and she was lavish of her thanks and caresses.
She pressed gifts upon her, and kisses, and was anxious to sit quite
close to her and hold her hand; but Pennie was proof against all this
now. It had no effect upon her at all, and she even looked forward with
a feeling of positive relief to the next day, when she would say
good-bye to the once-adored Ethelwyn.

And the time came at last; smiling, nodding, and tossing her yellow
hair, Ethelwyn got into the train which was to take her away from
Nearminster, and Pennie stood at Miss Unity's side on the platform,
gazing seriously after her from the depths of the plush bonnet. In her
hand she held almost unconsciously a large packet of sweets which
Ethelwyn had thrust into it just before entering the carriage; but there
was no smile on her face, and when the train had rolled out of sight,
she offered the packet to Miss Unity:

"Please, take these," she said; "I don't want them."

That same afternoon Mrs Hawthorn and Nancy were to drive in from Easney
and fetch Pennie home, and she stationed herself at the window a good
hour before they could possibly arrive, ready to catch the first glimpse
of Ruby's white nose. When, at length, after many disappointments,
caused by other horses with white noses,