"I'm glad they're going to have a holiday," she said. "I really am; and they're going on Saturday?" "Yes, by the 12:15 train. They're going through Scarborough right on to--why, how pale you are." "It's so horribly hot," said Nesta, sinking into a chair. "Well, that's about it; they're going by the 12:15 train, but they're not going to stop at Scarborough, they're going to a little place about twenty miles further on. They're going to have a lot of fishing and yachting. Father says that he doesn't want to be too far away from mother in her present state, and, of course, Horace loves his fishing. There, Nesta, you do look white. Hadn't you better go into the house?" "No, I'm all right; don't bother me," said Nesta. CHAPTER TWENTY. THE MISSING SOVEREIGN. It was Saturday morning; the Carters were going to Whitby, the Griffiths to Scarborough, Mr Aldworth and his son to a place called Anchorville, on the coast, a remote little fishing hamlet, far away from railways, or any direct communication. Nevertheless a telegram could bring Mr Aldworth back to his wife if necessity arose, within six or seven hours. The whole place seemed to be redolent of paper and string and trunks and labels and all the rest of it, thought Penelope Carter. Penelope was watching eagerly for the post, and that letter from Jim, which never came. She was really working herself into a fever, and when Saturday arrived and the sun shone brilliantly, and the whole world--or at least, all their world--was full of confusion, she could scarcely eat her breakfast. At each sound she started, and Clara came to the conclusion that the child was not well. In reality, Pen, having given up all hope of Jim's coming to the rescue, was struggling to make up her mind. If, by any chance, her father did not miss the sovereign, she would not tell, but if he missed it, and if he began to suspect any one of having stolen it; why, tell him she must. She ran up to Jim's room; shut the door and fell on her knees by Jim's bedside. "Give me strength," she murmured. "Give me strength. I am awfully frightened. Please, God, give me strength. I won't let any one else be suspected." Just then Clara's voice was heard calling her. "Come along, Pen, what are you hiding for? And in Jim's room of all places! We want every hand that we can get; we'll never be in time for the train." "Where's father?" said Pen wildly. "How do I know where father is? Pen, you must be mad. What do you want with father of all people?" "Oh, nothing, nothing?" said Pen. "Nothing at all." She felt frightened at Clara's manner. "Now, do bustle up," continued Clara. "Look here, we want a lot of peaches to eat by the way. There are some peaches in the hothouse at the end of the garden, you can pick some of those; never mind how cross old Archer is. Tell him that I want them. He won't dare to keep anything back from me."