"Now, whatever does the child mean? Sakes! you are scratched, and your nice new holland frock is all torn, and you are dusty and pale and trembling--as pale and trembling as can be."
"Is it pale I am?" cried Penelope. "Is it? Is it? Nursey, I love you, love you, love you!"
With a flop Penelope's fat arms were flung round nurse's neck; her hot little lips caressed nurse's cheeks.
"Oh," she cried, "how much I love you! Get writing 'terials quick. Get pen and ink and paper, and sit down and write. I will tell you what to say. You must write this instant minute. It is the most 'portant thing in all the world. Write, and be quick. If you don't I'll go to Betty, and she'll do what I want her to do."
"You needn't do that," cried nurse. "You are a queer child, and more trouble than you're worth, but when you are in a bit of a mess I'm not the one to refuse my aid. Who have I to write to?"
"My word! What on earth have you got to say to her?"
Nurse complied somewhat unwillingly. She produced a portfolio, got out her ink-bottle and pen, dipped the pen in ink, and looked up at Penelope.
"Go on, and be quick," she said. "I can't be fashed with the whims of children. What is it that you want to say?"
Nevertheless nurse put the words on the sheet of paper, and Pen proceeded to deliver herself quickly.
"'I am paled down, and want change of air. My breaf is too quick. My legs is all tored with briers and things. I has got a prickly feeling in my froat, and I gets wet as water all over my hands and round my neck and my forehead. It's 'cos I'm weak, I 'spect.'"
"Miss Penelope," said the nurse, "if those symptoms are correct, it is the doctor you want."
"'I has a doubly-up pain in my tum-tum,'" proceeded Penelope, taking no notice of nurse's interruption. "'I shrieks in my sleep. I wants change of air. I am very poorly. Nursey is writing this, and she knows I am very poorly. I feel sort of as though I could cry. It's not only my body, it's my mind. I has got a weight on my mind. It's a secret, and you ought to know. Send for me quick, 'cos I want change of air.
"I never wrote a queerer letter," said nurse; "and from the looks of you there seems to be truth in it. You certainly don't look well."