It was the middle of the day, however, and Nurse Richardson, after many fruitless searches, found Pen just at the time when luncheon was to be served. She pounced upon the little girl, and took her hand somewhat roughly. "There now," she said, "a nice state of things you have been and gone and done. I've been the whole morning searching for you. Why, Miss Clara said you were that feverish and sore-throaty and head-achy as never was. Why, what has come to you, Miss Pen? What's wrong?" Pen sprang from the hammock, ran up to old Richardson, and embraced her. "I'm not a bit head-achy, nor a bit sore-throaty, nor a bit of anything, but just that I didn't want to go," she said. "And you made up all that story?" "I'd rather stay with you, nursey," said Pen, rubbing her cheek against the old woman's. Nurse was by no means a strict moralist; she was soothed by Pen's attitude. "Then you will come right in and have a beautiful little bit of dinner," she said. "Roast duck and green peas, and afterwards a plum tart, and cream and peaches." Pen was, notwithstanding her perturbation of mind, somewhat hungry. "And you'll have it up in the old nursery with me," said Richardson. "All right, nursey, if you'll eat your dinner with me." "If you don't mind, my pretty." "Mind?" said Pen. "I'd love it." For the time she was in quite good spirits. She went into the house with the old nurse. They visited the nursery, and the dinner in question was soon brought on the board, and the two ate with hearty good appetite. "I'm that relieved that you ain't a bit sore-throaty nor head-achy," said the nurse. "No. I'm as right as possible," said Pen, "as well as possible," she repeated. "It isn't that." "You'll go to-morrow? Miss Clara was in a state." "I don't know--I don't know when I'll go." Having satisfied her appetite her nervous fears began again. "I want to go back to the garden--I want to be alone," she said. But as she was leaving the room she turned. "Where's Betty?" she said. "Betty, the bad little thing! To think of her doing it," said nurse. "Oh, nursey, do you think she did it?" "You have heard, then, my pet?" "Yes, I have heard." "Of course, she done it," said the nurse. "Who else would? All of us old trusted servants, and she just fresh in the place. But I've heard before now that the Wren family are just about--well, to say the least of it, not all they might be. She'll have to go back to Mrs Wren." "What sort of a woman is Mrs Wren?" asked Penelope. "Oh, a decent body enough; but they do say the husband was a poacher. Well, he's dead, and Betty's the eldest of the family. She wouldn't have got in here if I hadn't spoke for her, and I'm ashamed of her, that I am." "Nursey, I do wish you'd tell father that you _know_ she hasn't done it, and beg and beseech of him not to send her away."