“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?”
“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.”