"'That's right, my girl; that's right, Nancy. If the Dales stick to me through thick and thin, I'll stick to them.'
"You know, Pauline, you have always been at our fun before; so, aunt or no aunt, you can't fail us now."
"I'd like to go beyond anything," said Pauline, who felt intensely tempted by this description. "It is so horrible to be pulled up short. But I know I can't, so there's no use thinking about it."
"You needn't answer me now. I'll come back again. This is Friday night. I'll come back on Monday night. The picnic is arranged for Wednesday night. Listen, Paulie; you will have to change your mind, for if you don't--well!"
"I'll come and have a talk with your aunt. There!"
"Such an interesting story, darling! All about our fun that night when you burnt your arm--all about our gaiety, and the fireworks, and your stealing away as you did, and your stealing back as you did. Oh! I shall have a jolly story to tell; and I will tell it, too. She'll turn me away, and tell me she'll never see me any more; but what of that? She's done that already. I will have my fun; you will have your punishment. That's fair enough, isn't it? You don't desert Nancy King for nothing, remember that, Pauline, so you had better say at once that you will come. Now, my love, I think that is about all."
Nancy's face was very red. She was feeling thoroughly angry. Pauline's manner annoyed her past description. She really imagined herself to be extremely kind and good-natured to Pauline, and could not endure the little girl taking her present high stand.
She gave Pauline a nod which was scarcely friendly, but was, at the same time, very determined, and was about to run home, when Pauline called her.
"Don't go for a minute, Nancy. There's something else. Have you brought me back Aunt Sophia's thimble?"
"No, I have not. I have a story to tell you about that, and I was just forgetting it. I do hope and trust you won't really mind."
"Oh, what is it? You know I am quite likely to get into a scrape about that horrid thimble as well as everything else. What is the story? The thimble isn't yours. You surely haven't lost it!"
"Nothing of the kind. You look as though you thought I had stolen it. Mean as I am, I am not quite so bad as that. Now let me tell you. Becky, poor old girl! saw it. She's always mad about finery of any sort, and her people are rich as rich. I had the thimble in my pocket, and she was snuggling up close to me in her nice, engaging little fashion, and she felt the thimble hard against my side, much as I felt it when it was in your pocket. In she slipped her little bit of a white hand and drew it out. I never saw any one so delighted over a toy of the sort in all my life. It fitted her little finger just to a nicety.