for
herself, too. "Aren't they dears!"

"I must look 'ee out a perfect one," said Mrs. Vercoe, tapping up one
after another and rapping them with her knuckles. "They'm terrible things
for getting chipped. There, I think those are all right."

Angela, in a high state of delight, chose the one she thought the
prettiest. Poppy, meanwhile, was tugging at Esther's skirt. She had been
very quiet for some time, absorbed in a boxful of the packets of
flower-seeds, with gay pictures outside.

"Esther, may I have a packet of seeds? and one of those dear dinkey little
watering-cans? May I, Essie? Do say 'yes,' please do."

Poppy was not only fascinated, but she was possessed by a sudden,
brilliant idea which the packets of seeds had suggested. She could not
rest until Esther had consented, and she could not keep from dancing with
excitement as she bent over the box, trying to make a selection.

"Bless her pretty face," cried Mrs. Vercoe, much amused. The old lady was
as delighted with her customers as though they were spending pounds
instead of pennies. Penelope, meanwhile, was perched on a corner of a
sugar-box, absorbed in one of the funny little books which were lying in a
pile on the counter, and was quite oblivious of all that was going on
around her.

Esther paid for Poppy's purchases. "And will you take for the book, too,
please," she said, as she held out a shilling. "The book my sister is
reading." She blushed as she spoke, for she was shocked at Penelope's
behaviour.

But Mrs. Vercoe would not hear of it. "Why no, my dear; 'tisn't likely
she'd be wanting to buy it now she mostly knows what's in it.
You'd rather have another, wouldn't you, missie? and it don't make no
manner of diff'rence to me."

Penelope looked up with a start, and blushed too, but an end to the
discussion was put by Poppy, who came up very excitedly with a packet of
parsley seed in her hand. It was not one of those with a picture on the
outside, but a larger, plainer packet.

"Please, how much is this?" she asked eagerly.

"Ah, you wouldn't like that, dearie, that isn't pretty. It's parsley.
Very good parsley it is, but it don't have no pretty flowers."

"I know," said Poppy, nodding her head vigorously. "How much does it
cost?"

"A penny."

"Well, I'll take it, please, instead of the other," and she held out her
hand for the packet as though she was afraid of having it wrested from
her.

Mrs. Vercoe held it while h