d just under that dock-leaf. Isn't it
sweet? I shall give it back to her after she has forgiven me to-morrow."

"What a charming, return-good-for-evil character you have suddenly
become, Pauline!"

As Nancy spoke she poised the thimble on her second finger. Her fingers
were small, white, and tapering. The thimble exactly fitted the narrow
tip on which it rested.

"I never saw anything so lovely," she cried. "Never mind, Paulie, about
to-morrow. Lend it to me. I'd give my eyes to show it to Becky."

"But why should I lend it to you? I must return it to Aunt Sophia."

"You surely won't give it back to her to-day."

"No, but to-morrow."

"Let to-morrow take care of itself. I want to show this thimble to Becky
and Amy. I have a reason. You won't refuse one who is so truly kind to
you, will you, little Paulie? And I tell you what: I know you are
starving, and you hate to go into the house for your food. I will bring
you a basketful of apples, chocolates, and a peach or two. We have lovely
peaches ripe in our garden now, although we are such common folk."

Pauline felt thirsty. Her hunger, too, was getting worse. She would have
given a good deal to have been able to refuse the horrid meals which
would be served to her in the schoolroom. Perhaps she could manage
without any other food if she had enough fruit.

"I should like some very much," she said. "Aunt Sophia has, as she calls
it, preserved the orchard. We are not allowed to go into it."

"Mean cat!" cried Nancy.

"So will you really send me a basket of fruit?"

"I will send Tom with it the instant I get home. He runs like the wind.
You may expect to find it waiting for you in half-an-hour."

"Thank you. And you will take great care of the thimble, won't you?"

"Of course I will, child. It is a beauty."

Without more ado Nancy slipped the thimble into her pocket, and then
nodding to Pauline, and telling her that she would wait for her at the
wicket-gate at half-past seven, she left her.

Nancy swung her body as she walked, and Pauline stood and watched her.
She thought that Nancy looked very grown-up and very stylish. To look
stylish seemed better than to look pretty in the eyes of the
inexperienced little girl. She could not help having a great admiration
for her friend.

"She is very brave, and so generous; and she knows such a lot of the
world!" thought poor Pauline. "It is a shame not to be allowed to see her
whenever one likes. And it would be jus