njoyment of it.
How could they display it to their mother when it was the price of
disobedience?

CHAPTER THREE.

CHEDDINGTON FAIR.

Meanwhile Pennie's plan did not make much progress. The china-house on
the school-room mantel-piece stood ready for contributions, with the
slit in its roof and the label on its front door; it looked very well
outside, but she feared that it was poorly furnished within, though she
dropped all her own money into it with great regularity. This fear
became certainty soon, for Dickie came to her one day with a penny
clasped in her fat hand, and said:

"Dickie will put it into the house."

Pennie hesitated, for she knew it was the price of real hard work.

"Does Dickie really want to give it?" she asked.

Dickie nodded, gazing up at the money-box with large solemn eyes.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather buy hard-bake?" persisted Pennie.

Dickie was quite sure. Her mind was bent on dropping the penny into the
slit. When, however, the china-house was lifted down, and she saw her
money disappear through the roof for ever, she burst into sobs and
tears, and refused comfort till the box was opened and the money
returned. In this way Pennie became aware of the very low state of the
funds; there was indeed hardly anything beside her own contributions,
and at this rate Miss Unity would never get her new mandarin. So far
her plan had failed.

"If only I could earn some money!" she said to Nancy.

"P'r'aps father will want some sermons copied when he comes back,"
suggested Nancy, "or mother may want some dusters hemmed."

"I should love to do the sermons," said Pennie; "but, oh," with a face
of disgust, "how I do hate needlework!"

"Well," said Nancy composedly, "if people want to be paid they've got to
work, whether they like it or not."

"But there's nice work and nasty work," said Pennie; "now, to write
books--that must be splendid!"

"I should hate it," said Nancy. "I'd much rather dig potatoes, or make
chairs and tables."

"Girls can't do that sort of work," remarked Ambrose, who was sitting in
the window-seat with a book. "Girls can't do many things. They're not
brave enough, or strong enough, or clever enough. Boys and men earn
money, not girls."

Nancy never wasted words on Ambrose when he talked in this way. She at
once looked round for the nearest thing to throw at him. Quite aware of
her intention, he quickly added holding up one arm to shield himself: