If we get a nice lot of
things," he added in a satisfied voice, "we mean to open it on the day
mother comes back."

"Oh dear me," exclaimed Nancy, "how I wish Saturday would come! Pennie
and I shall have lots to talk about then, which you don't know anything
about."

For it had been settled that Pennie was to return from Nearminster on
Saturday, and Nancy, feeling herself left outside all that was going on,
longed eagerly for the day. She would then have someone to talk to all
to herself, and there would also be lots to hear about Kettles. Pennie
certainly wrote long letters, but Nancy thought them not to be compared
to conversations, and she had so many questions to ask that were too
small to be written. Above all, there were the boots and stockings to
be bought. She would not do this alone, though when she passed the
village shop and saw them hanging up it was very hard to help going in.
So the time went on, very slowly for Nancy just now, but at last the
week ended and Saturday came.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

KETURAH.

The house at Easney was merrier and more noisy than it had been for some
time on the day of Pennie's return, but the house at Nearminster went
back at once to its old gravity and silence. Had it always been so
still and quiet? Miss Unity wondered. If so, she had never noticed it
until Pennie had come and gone. Now it seemed so strange and
unaccustomed that it made her quite restless and unable to settle down
to her usual morning employments. She tried them one after another in
vain. It was of no use. She could neither add up her accounts, nor
read her newspaper, nor do her wool-work with the least satisfaction.

Almost without knowing it she went aimlessly into her bed-room, and from
there into the little pink-chintz room which had been Pennie's. Betty
had already made it so neat and trim that it looked forlornly empty with
no signs of its late owner. So Miss Unity thought at first, but
glancing round it she saw that careless Pennie had left her thimble on
the table, and one of her dancing shoes in a corner.

Miss Unity picked up the thimble and fitted it absently on to the top of
her own finger. How Pennie had disliked sewing, and dancing too, and
how very very glad she had been to go home that morning! How she had
flung herself upon Nancy and smothered her with kisses; how happy and
smiling her face had looked as she drove away from the door, talking so
eagerly to her sister th