laughed.
“We will see,” she answered. “But, talking of pretty girls, do you not think that Nan will be very, very pretty when she is grown-up, Augusta?”
“Hum!” said Augusta. “Well, yes, if she is happy I suppose she will. Don’t you think there is something funny the matter with Nan, Nora? Can you account for it?”
“I cannot,” said Nora, startled and amazed at Augusta’s words. “I wish you could tell me. Can you throw any light on the change in her?”
“Oh! you have observed the change?”
“Of course I have. And, do you know, it all began the day you came here. Of course, dear little Nan was very sad when first she came to live with mother, but she had got over it, and we were all so fond of her; we thought her such a darling! And she was so merry; she used to laugh so heartily. And she was quite comforted because we gave her Jack as her own special little dog; but now it seems to us that Jack is more your Jack than hers, and Nan is very sad.”
“Poor Nan! I have noticed it myself. I am anxious about her.”
“Then you do not know what is the matter?”
“I think I do partly, but I must not say; perhaps she will tell you herself.”
“Oh! but won’t you say? It does seem unkind to have a weight of care on her dear little mind and not to have it relieved.”
“Why do you always talk about her as though she were such a tiny creature? She is nearly as old as you.”
“She is the same age as Kitty, but somehow she looks and feels younger.”
“Well, if I were you I would not take much notice,” said Augusta. “She will come right all in good time. Of course, you know, it is not as if she had been brought up with you; she was brought up by her mother, who was a very poor woman.”
“It is not poverty that makes Nan so strange and queer at present,” answered Nora.
“I know it is not. I cannot make her out myself, poor child; I am afraid she is naturally of a very melancholy disposition.”
The girls chatted a little longer. Nora had obtained no light whatever on Nan’s trouble, and went into the house feeling worried and distressed.
Augusta managed to rush into the schoolroom before the sisters appeared.
“You must try to be cheerful, Nan,” she said; “they are both suspecting that there is something amiss. You must really rouse yourself or the whole thing will be discovered, and where would you be then?”
“What would happen if it were?” said Nan.
“Happen! I suppose they would forgive you; but, seeing the peculiar circumstances under which you live in this house, I should not like to be in your shoes. Whoever could think well again of a girl who is deceitful?”
“But I am not. Oh! I would tell now – I would tell gladly were it not for you.”
“It certainly would not be very kind of you to get me into a scrape when I did what I could to get you out of one,” was Augusta’s answer. “But come! cheer up – do. We will have some jolly games after dinner; and, if you are an awfully good girl, I have something rather exciting to tell you to-morrow. No, not to-day – to-morrow.”
The girls came in; Miss Roy followed. They had all high tea together at half-past six, and immediately afterwards Augusta proposed games.
She was a splendid leader when there was anything of that sort for her to do, and soon the children – even Nan – were laughing merrily and enjoying themselves to their hearts’ content. It was not until bedtime that Kitty ran up to Nan, put her arms round her neck, looked into her eyes, and said in her sweetest, most coaxing voice:
“Nancy, I am coming into your room early tomorrow morning – quite early. When I come, may I creep into your bed, and put my arms round your neck, and kiss you a lot of times?”
“I should like it ever so much,” said Nan.
“I will come. Good-night, Nan darling.”
Augusta was standing near when Kitty made her petition of Nan.
As Augusta herself was going to bed she went up to Nan and kissed her.
“What did Kitty say to you?” she asked in a whisper.
“Nothing.”
“Nonsense! Tell me at once.”
“She said that she was coming to see me to-morrow morning early, to get into my bed.”
“Oh,” said Augusta, “that sort of thing means confidences. Be careful, Nan; be careful what you are doing.”
Nan said nothing, but went away to her room. When she got there she fell on her knees by the open window and looked out.
It had been a lovely day in spring, and the night was clear, fine, and balmy. Nan opened her window and let the soft air blow on her hot little face.
“It is four months since mother died,” she said to herself; “a great, great deal has happened, and I scarcely know myself. I have learnt to love Mrs. Richmond and the two girls. As to Jack, I think he is the dearest little thing in the world; and I have forgotten Sophia Maria. I have almost forgotten Phoebe; but I still love Mr. Pryor. And, oh! mother, mother, up in heaven, do you see Nan now, and are you pitying her, and are you telling me what is right to do? For I am not a good girl; and as to being the best girl that Mr. Pryor speaks about – oh I – I am more like the worst. And I am so afraid of Augusta! I think I do really, out and out, hate her. I do not know what she means by frightening me and making me so unhappy. Oh! I wish I had never yielded to her. I wish I had the courage to tell Kitty the truth.”
As Nan knelt at the window it came into her head that she might ask God to give her the necessary courage, but then a wild sensation of terror swept over her.
“If Augusta were not in the house I might tell, but Augusta would make it out to be so bad; she told me she would. She told me that if I ever told what I had done she would say that I implored of her not to tell, and she said that her word would be believed before mine; and I know it would, of course, because she is quite old beside me. What a miserable girl I am!”
Nan went to bed, and after a time, wretched as she felt, she fell asleep. But her sleep was haunted by dreams, and it was with a cry that she woke on the following morning when Kitty touched her.
“Here I am, Nancy,” said Kitty. “Just push over to the left side and let me get into your bed.”
Nan made room, and the two little girls lay side by side.
“Now, this is quite cosy,” said Kitty.
“Isn’t it?” replied Nan.
“You are very fond of me, are you not, Nancy?”
“Oh yes; very – very.”
“And of Nora too?”
“Very; I love you both most dearly.”
“And you love mother?”
