Nevertheless, Penelope felt that the whole thing had an ugly appearance on the present occasion. The sovereign, however, must be put back in the purse, or the truth confessed before Saturday morning, that was evident. This was Wednesday. There was all Thursday and Friday. There would be a little packing to do--not that Penelope would trouble herself about that--but there would be a little commotion in getting the family off to the sea. Her father was not going with them, at least not for the first few days, but he would follow. That evening Penelope determined to make a confidante of her sister, Clara. Clara was in a specially good humour. She had had, as she expressed it, a stunning day, one long series of triumphs, as she said now to her sisters, Mabel and Annie, as they clustered round her. "Oh, and there's little Pen," she cried. "Come along, Penelope. You looked quite nice to-day. You'll take the shine out of us all when you are grown up. One or two people asked me who you were. Your hair is so pretty, and you will be taller than the rest of us." "I don't care," said Penelope. Clara pinched her cheek. "You don't care? But you will care fast enough when you are older, and when you have several Berties walking with you, and other fellows anxious to get introductions to you. You wait and see." Penelope looked what she felt, cross and discontented. "What is it, Puss? What are you frowning about?" "I'm only thinking. I want to have a talk with you all by myself." "Oh, indeed, and so we're not to be with you?" said Mabel in some surprise. "No, I want old Clay. Can't I go somewhere with you all by yourself, Clara?" Now this sort of homage was sweet to Clara. She kissed the child, and said affectionately: "Well, I'm a bit tired; what with running about all over the place and entertaining folks, I don't seem to have a leg to stand on; but I suppose we can just cross the lawn and get into the summerhouse and have a chat. Come along, Pen." Penelope fastened herself on to her elder sister's arm and they went across to the summerhouse in question. "Now, then," said Clara, somewhat severely, "they tell me that I spoil you." "Oh, but you don't, Clay, you are ever so nice to me." "Well, I don't mean to spoil you. Of course, these are holiday times; but when lessons begin again I am going to be ever so strict. It has just occurred to me that I might get an introduction for you through Miss Angela St Just to that charming school at Frankfort." "What charming school at Frankfort?" asked Penelope. "Frankfort-- where's that?" "Oh, you dreadful child! Don't you know?" "I hate geography. I don't want to learn. I don't want to be a good, model, knowledgeable girl. And I hate Miss Just. I do; so there!"