was nurse's, where she kept her work, and a few books, and a little note-paper and so on; and the drawer at the bottom, so that he could easily reach it, was Carrots' own.
One end of Floss's drawer was given up to her dolls. She still had a good many, for though she did not care for them now as much as she used, she never could be persuaded to throw any of them away. But they were not very pretty; even Carrots could see that, and Carrots, to tell the truth, was very fond of dolls.
"If I had some money," he said to himself, "I would buy Floss such a most beautiful doll. I wish I had some money."
For the moment he forgot about the hoops and the "plan" and sat down on a little stool with one of the unhappiest looking of the dolls in his arms.
"I wish I could buy you a new face, poor dolly," he said. "I wish I had some money."
He got up again to put poor dolly back into her corner. As he was smoothing down the paper which lined the drawer, he felt something hard close to dolly's foot; he pushed away the dolls to see – there, almost hidden by a crumple in the paper lay a tiny little piece of money – a little shining piece, about the size of a sixpence, only a different colour.
"A yellow sixpenny, oh, how nice!" thought Carrots, as he seized it. "I wonder if Floss knowed it was there. It would just do to buy a new doll. I wish I could go to the toy-shop to buy one to surprise Floss. I won't tell Floss I've found it. I'll keep it for a secret, and some day I'll buy Floss a new doll. I'm sure Floss doesn't know – I think the fairies must have put it there."
He wrapped the piece of money up carefully in a bit of paper, and after considering where he could best hide it, so that Floss should not know till it was time to surprise her, he fixed on a beautiful place – he hid it under one of the little round saucers in his paint-box – a very old paint-box it was, which had descended from Jack, first to Mott and then to Carrots, but which, all the same, Carrots considered one of his greatest treasures.
When nurse came into the room, she found the tidying of the drawer completed, and Carrots sitting quietly by the window. He did not tell her about the money he had found, it never entered into his little head that he should speak of it. He had got into the way of not telling all the little things that happened to him to any one but Floss, for he was naturally a very quiet child, and nurse was getting too old to care about all the tiny interests of her children as she once had done. Besides, he had determined to keep it a secret, even from Floss, till he could buy a new doll with it – but very likely he would have told her of it after all, had not something else put it out of his head.
The something else was that that afternoon nurse took Floss and him a long walk, and a walk they were very fond of.
It was to the cottage of the old woman, who, ever since they had come to Sandyshore, had washed for them. She was a very nice old woman, and her cottage was beautifully clean, and now and then Floss and Carrots had gone with nurse to have tea with her, which was a great treat. But to-day they were not going to tea; they were only going because nurse had to pay Mrs. White some money for washing up Jack's things quickly, and nurse knew the old woman would be glad to have it, as it was close to the day on which she had to pay her rent.
Floss and Carrots were delighted to go, for even when they did not stay to tea, Mrs. White always gave them a glass of milk, and, generally, a piece of home-made cake.
Before they started, nurse went to her drawer and took out of it a very small packet done up in white paper, and this little packet she put into her purse.
It was, after all, a nice fine day. Floss and Carrots talked quietly beside nurse for a little, and then she gave them leave to run races, which made the way seem very short, till they got to Mrs. White's.
"How nice it will be when we have our hoops, won't it, Carrots?" said Floss.
Carrots had almost forgotten about the hoops, but now that Floss mentioned them, it put him in mind of something else.
"Wouldn't you like a new doll, Floss?" he said mysteriously, "a most beautifullest new doll, with hair like – like the angels' hairs in the big window at church, and eyes like the little blue stones in mamma's ring?"
"Of course I would," said Floss, "and we'd call her Angelina, wouldn't we Carrots? But it's no good thinking about it – I shall never have one like that, unless the fairies send it me!"
"If the fairies sended you money to buy one, wouldn't that do?" said Carrots, staring up in her face with a funny look in his eyes.
But before Floss had time to answer, nurse called to them – they were at the corner of the lane which led to Mrs. White's.
Mrs. White was very kind. She had baked a cake only a day or two before, and cut off a beautiful big piece for each of the children, then she gave them a drink of milk, and they ran out into her little garden to eat their cake and look at the flowers, till nurse had finished her business with the old washerwoman, and was ready to go home.
Floss and Carrots thought a great deal of Mrs. White's garden. Small as it was, it had far more flowers in it than their own garden at the back of the Cove House, for it was a mile or two farther from the sea, and the soil was richer, and it was more sheltered from the wind.
In summer there was what Floss called quite a "buzzy" sound in this little garden – she meant that sweet, lazy-busy hum of bees and butterflies and all sorts of living creatures, that you never hear except in a real old-fashioned garden where there are lots of clove pinks and sweet williams and roses, roses especially, great, big cabbage roses, and dear little pink climbing roses, the kind that peep in at a cottage window to bid you "good morning." Oh, how very sweet those old-fashioned flowers are – though "rose fanciers" and all the clever gardeners we have now-a-days wouldn't give anything for them! I think them the sweetest of all. Don't you, children? Or is it only when one begins to grow old-fashioned oneself and to care more for things that used to be than things that are now, that one gets to prize these old friends so?
I am wandering away from Floss and Carrots waiting for nurse in the cottage garden; you must forgive me, boys and girls – when people begin to grow old they get in the habit of telling stories in a rambling way, but I don't find children so hard upon this tiresome habit as big people sometimes are. And it all comes back to me so – even the old washerwoman's cottage I can see so plainly, and the dear straggly little garden!
For you see, children, I am telling you the history of a real little boy and girl, not fancy children, and that is why, though there is nothing very wonderful about Floss and Carrots, I hope the story of their little pleasures and sorrows and simple lives may be interesting to you.
But I must finish about the visit to the washerwoman in another chapter. I have made this one rather too long already.
CHAPTER IV.
THE LOST HALF-SOVEREIGN
"Children should not leave about
Anything that's small and bright;
Lest the fairies spy it out,
And fly off with it at night."
There was no buzzy sound in Mrs. White's garden this afternoon. It was far too early in the year for that, indeed it was beginning to feel quite chilly and cold, as the afternoons often do of fine days in early spring, and by the time Floss and Carrots had eaten their cake, and examined all the rose bushes to see if they could find any buds, and wished it were summer, so that there would be some strawberries hiding under the glossy green leaves, they began to wonder why nurse was so long – and to feel rather cold and tired of waiting.
