The Annam Jewel by Patricia Wentworth

Woman” came to his assistance—the little old woman who went to sleep upon the King’s highway, and
    By there came a pedlar whose name was Stout,
    He cut her petticoats all round about,
    He cut her petticoats up to her knees …
    Peter extracted a clasp-knife from his pocket and began to cut Rose Ellen’s petticoats all round about, only he went one better than the pedlar, and took them off, not up to her knees, but a good two inches above them. Then he groped in the grass, until he found a heavy fish-basket. He had purchased it in Parberry for threepence, and it contained a German sausage, a loaf of bread, half a pound of cheese, eight penny buns, six bananas, and two oranges. On the top of the bananas and oranges there was a cheap serge cap and a pair of dark-blue shorts.
    Peter assisted Rose Ellen to stuff the remains of her petticoats into the shorts, and put the cap firmly on her head. They had cut her hair very short, but it still curled. The cap fitted very well. Peter then rolled the cut-off pieces of petticoat inside the coarse woollen dress, pushed the bundle well down between the ivy and the trunk of the nearest tree, put on his coat, picked up the fish-basket and his own handbag, and led the way back to the road.

CHAPTER VI
    Rose Ellen followed him like a little dog. Peter’s sweater felt warm and light. Every now and then she patted the new shorts approvingly. It was frightfully nice to be a boy. She came out on to the high road with the feeling of having come home. It was home because Peter was there, and because she was Rose Ellen again. She caught Peter up and nuzzled her head against his arm.
    â€œAugustabel—” she said.
    â€œWhat about Augustabel?”
    â€œOh, Peter de—ah, she’s in a apple tree.”
    â€œWhy on earth—”
    â€œBecause of not being allowed to take her there .” Rose Ellen nodded mournfully in the direction of St. Gunburga’s.
    â€œWhere is she?”
    â€œIn a apple tree—in a garden—belonging to a cottage.”
    â€œWhere?” said Peter again.
    â€œIt’s the third cottage,” said Rose Ellen. “I always look at the tree when we go to church on Sunday.”
    â€œHow did she get there?”
    â€œI was in the cottage, waiting to go—there.” Again the nod indicated St. Gunburga’s. “There was a woman there and she was nice. She said she would like to keep me, and then I could have Augustabel, but she had a husband, and he said no. I don’t like husbands very much, Peter de—ah.”
    â€œHow did Augustabel get in the tree?”
    â€œThere’s a hole. I put her in when no one wasn’t looking. You’ll get her out, won’t you, Peter?”
    Peter said he would. He hoped it wouldn’t take very long, for at any moment there might be a hue and cry after Rose Ellen. It never entered his head, however, that they should abandon Augustabel. He knew Rose Ellen too well.
    They stopped outside the wall of the cottage garden, and Peter climbed it, directed in breathless whispers by Rose Ellen, who remained in the road. The tree was the nearest tree but two; and it had a waggly branch that you could play see-saw on; and last year there was a nest in it; and the hole was a little way up, just about as high as Rose Ellen’s shoulder; and would Peter mind telling Augustabel that it was only him, because she might think it was a robber and be most dreadfully frightened.
    Peter kept saying “S-s-h” at intervals, but he found the tree and the hole, fished out Augustabel, and rejoined Rose Ellen without much difficulty. They walked on in silence. Rose Ellen had no words; her heart was much too full. She clasped a damp and draggled Augustabel tight, tight in her arms, and trotted beside Peter in a state of fervent happiness.
    Peter had used his afternoon to some advantage. He did not take her through Parberry, but struck off to the left amongst