David, "she ought to pay for a new one. Not us."

"But she never would," said Ambrose. "Why, I don't suppose she even
remembers doing it."

"If there ever was," put in Nancy, "anyone I hated, it was that stupid
Ethelwyn."

"You oughtn't to say that, Nancy," said Pennie reprovingly. "You know
mother doesn't like you to say you hate people."

"Well, I won't say so, then; but I did all the same, and so did you at
last."

"Will anyone agree to the plan?" asked Pennie dejectedly, for she felt
that the proposal had been a failure. To her surprise David turned
round from the row of hutches.

"_I_ will," he said, "because she was so kind once, but I can't give it
every week. I'll give it when I don't want it very much for something
else."

Ambrose remained silent a little while. He was rather vexed that David
had made this offer before he had spoken himself, for he did not like
his younger brother to take the lead.

"I don't call that much of a sacrifice," he said at length. "I shall
give some _every_ week."

Dickie had listened to all this without any clear idea as to what it
meant, but she could not bear to be left out of any scheme, and she now
said firmly:

"Me will too."

Her offer was received with laughter.

"You've got no pocket-money, Dickie," said Pennie.

"She's got her slug-money," observed David. This property of Dickie's
consisted of the payment for slugs and snails which she collected in a
flower-pot and delivered to Andrew for execution. He kept the account
chalked up in the potting shed, and when it reached a hundred, Dickie
was entitled to ask her father for a penny.

"I call it a shame to take her slug-money," cried out Nancy from the
swing.

"No one wants to _take_ it," replied Pennie, "but she shall give it if
she likes."

"I call it a stupid old plan, with nothing pleasant about it at all,"
were Nancy's last words as they all left the barn.

Pennie tried to treat those remarks with indifference, but she was in
truth wounded and discouraged by them, and felt, moreover, that they
were likely to affect the boys unfavourably. She observed that Ambrose
became very thoughtful as they approached the house, and presently he
asked in an off-hand manner:

"How long do you suppose it will take us to buy a mandarin?"

Pennie could not say, but she thought it might be a long while, because
she had heard that china figures of that sort were expensive, "and of
course," she added, "we