"Then of course you can see her; that will be nice. But will you come? I will write to fix the day after I get home. I _should_ like you to have a good time with us. We shall be quite a big party--boys and girls, oh,--a lot of us, and I think there'll be no end of fun. The little Hungerfords are coming, and Fred. Fred is such a nice boy. Will you come, Penelope? Do say `Yes.'" Penelope's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Will I come!" she said. "Why, I'd just love it beyond anything. Oh, you _are_ good! Do you ask me because you pity me?" "Well--yes, perhaps a little," said Honora, colouring at this direct question--"but also because I want to like you. I know you are worth liking. No one who could look as you did last night could be unworthy. It was after I saw you that I asked mamma; and she said: most certainly you should come. It will probably be next week: I will write you fixing the day as soon as ever I get home. And now, I must be off. Good-bye, dear. You may be certain I will do my very utmost to give you a really happy time." Honora bent her stately head, pressed a little kiss on Penelope's forehead, and the next minute had left her. Penelope's first impulse had been to rush downstairs; but she restrained herself. She sat down on Honora's vacant bed and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Fun for me,"--she thought--"for me! I shan't have lonely holidays. I shall go to one of the nicest houses in England, and be with nice people, good people, true people. There's Brenda--of course I wish--I do wish Brenda were _not_ at Marshlands; but I suppose I _can't_ have everything. I wish--I wish I could understand Brenda. Why did she force me to get all that money for her? I wonder if any of the girls who gave it me will be there. Well, well--I won't be disagreeable--I am going to have a jolly time--I, who never have any fun. Oh, I am glad--I am very glad!" About an hour later, the great house of Hazlitt Chase seemed quite silent and empty. Except for some housemaids who went to the different rooms in order to fold up the sheets and put away the blankets and take the curtains down from the windows and generally reduce the spotless, dainty chambers to the immaculate order of holiday times, Penelope did not see any one. She was glad that Mademoiselle d'Etienne was not in sight. She thought she could endure her holiday now that she had something to look forward to, if only Mademoiselle were not with her. But she could not stand the housemaids: they were so full of gossip and noise. Their accustomed reverence for the young ladies was not extended to the lonely girl who always spent vacation at Hazlitt Chase.