“He is my dog no more,” the little girl thought; but the weight on her heart prevented her feeling the loss of Jack as she otherwise would have done.
Nan sat at the table, her lesson-books piled up in front of her; Augusta was buried in a new story-book, and forgot every one but herself. Presently Nan spoke.
“Augusta,” she said, “I have been thinking.”
“Well?” said Augusta. She put down her book and glanced at Nan.
Nan had a frown between her brows, but notwithstanding this fact her handsome little face looked very striking.
“She will be far more beautiful than any of us when she is grown-up,” thought Augusta. “Why should she have such a remarkable face? I hate her for it.”
“Unless you have something very important to say, please reserve your conversation until I get to a less fascinating part of my book,” said Augusta. “The hero is on the eve of proposing to the heroine, and I cannot make out whether she will accept him or not.”
“That is only a book, and I am real,” was Nan’s answer. “I want to say something to you.”
“I have been making up my mind. You know what happened on the day you came.”
“Oh, that old story over again!” said Augusta. “Well, of course I know.”
“So I see. You certainly have a terribly tender conscience, seeing the way you abuse it.”
“Oh, you do not know how unhappy I feel! You were surprised when, a night or two ago, I wanted to see Mr. Pryor. I will tell you what I did; I do not mind confessing to you. No one would take me, and I ran there all the way by myself.”
“You did, Nan! You are a daring little piece. Upon my word, there is something I rather admire about you. I could not be so out and out wicked—not for anybody.”
“All the same, I think you are wickeder than me, Augusta,” said Nan.
“You do, do you? Well, now, do you think that is a very polite thing to say, particularly when you have put yourself in my power as you are doing?”
“I am so much in your power,” replied poor Nan, “that a little more or a little less does not matter. I did go and see Mr. Pryor.”
“And whoever is this wonderful Mr. Pryor?”
“No; that he is not. He is not a bit dull; he has always been great fun. He lived in the house with me and mother, and when mother died he was so kind! And when mother was ill he often talked to her, and he told me—— Oh Augusta! please—please listen. He told me that mother wanted me to be the best girl.”