Chapter VI.

Mrs. Grange received Nan very cordially when she made her appearance with Miss Rolf. The gentle little lady was quite a revelation to Nan, whose ideas of elderly people were formed entirely on the noisy, overworked matrons she had seen at Mrs. Rupert's. Nan was only allowed a few words with her hostess, and then Miss Rolf carried her off to the little sitting-room upstairs, where, when she had laid aside her hat and jacket, Miss Rolf told her she had better write Mrs. Rupert a note to explain her absence.

"And I want you to word it very carefully, Nan," said Phyllis, coming up to the little girl with a very serious expression. "You know things are changed with you now, and you must begin at once to let your aunt and her family understand that you are not—they can not expect you—to treat them quite as equals."

Nan was still full of the excitement and delight of her good fortune; yet as Phyllis spoke, looking down gravely upon her, there came a blush of mortification into the child's honest face. A tinge of the same color deepened in Phyllis's soft cheeks for just half a moment, but she said, very decidedly:

"Now, Nan, you are not going to be a foolish, obstinate child, I hope? Surely you must know that I and your aunt Letitia understand these things better than a little girl brought up among vulgar people could. Now there must be no nonsense, my dear."

Phyllis's tone was kind, but something in it made Nan see that she expected obedience; and was she not in every way the most wonderful and beautiful creature Nan had ever seen? Nan's doubts vanished while Phyllis laid out note-paper and pen and ink on a dainty little table drawn up to one of the windows; and when Nan placed herself there to write, her cousin sat down by the fire, with her slippered toes on the fender, and her pretty hands, sparkling with rings, folded gracefully in her lap.

"Now, Nan," she said, "begin your letter. Date it 'The Willows'—that is the name of this place. 'March 8. Dear Mrs. Rupert.'"

Nan smiled quickly.

"Why, Miss—Cousin Phyllis," she said, looking up from the paper, "she would think me crazy; she is Aunt Rebecca, you know."

Miss Rolf's delicate eyebrows drew together in a little frown. She waited a moment, and then, with an impatient sigh, said,

"Very well, let it go—'Dear Aunt Rebecca.'"

Nan's pen scratched on, with many splutterings, for penmanship was her weak point, and had not been considered a very necessary accomplishment in the Rupert household. She looked up presently for further instructions.

"My cousin, Miss Rolf," dictated that young lady, "has decided that I had better remain with her until I go to Beverley." ("Oh!" ejaculated Nan.) "My aunt, Miss Rolf, has invited me to make her a long visit, and as previous to my going, there are many things to be attended to in my wardrobe, etc., my cousin Phyllis thinks it best to keep me with her. I shall, of course, see you all before I leave."

Nan's pen finally came to a stop.

"That is all," said Phyllis, placidly.

"Then I'll just send my love, I suppose," said Nan.

After a little pause Phyllis said, "Yes," and Nan went to work again. When she brought the letter to her cousin for inspection, this is how it was concluded:

"I hope you are all well, and that you'll tell Mary Seymour, when you see her, that I'll go there before I leave, and I'll write to Tommy; and tell Marian, please, I'll give her and Philip all the pea-nuts that are in my drawer, and I'll write them everything that happens at Beverley. I hope uncle's jaw is better. Your loving niece, Nan."

Phyllis Rolf read the letter with so quiet an air that for a moment Nan felt much relieved, feeling sure it was all right; but the first words startled her.

"That would not do, my dear, at all," Phyllis said, coldly. "You can not go to see this Tommy Seymour, and you had better understand at once that your aunt will not like you to write everything to your cousins here. Now, Nan, do you see what I mean?"

Nan began to see a little more clearly, yet her mind was not yet made up; still, enough of Phyllis's meaning reached her to bring two large tears to her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks, while she looked silently at Phyllis and her letter.

"Don't be silly, my dear," said the young lady, standing up and smiling good-naturedly. "There, finish your letter with just your love; that will be the best way."

And so Nan went back to the little table, brushing away those first tears, and quietly obeyed her cousin. Miss Rolf took the letter from her as soon as it was finished, and went out of the room, while Nan sat still, wondering if Beverley would be quite all she hoped for.

Enough excitement remained to make it easy for Phyllis to control her as she wished, and that young lady trusted to time and absence working wonders. While Nan was sitting absorbed in her thoughts, the door opened, and Lance Rolf came suddenly into the room. He was a tall boy, with a spare, handsome face, delicate as Phyllis's in feature, but olive-tinted, and with more sweetness in the brown eyes and the hues of the mouth. He came up to Nan, holding out his hand with a pleasant smile.

"And are you Nan?" he said, looking at her earnestly.

"Yes," was Nan's timid answer.

"Well," said the boy, cheerfully, "we are cousins. My name is Lancelot Rolf. I hope we'll be very well acquainted. So you are going to Beverley."

"Yes," was all Nan could contrive to say again. She longed to ask a dozen questions of the bright, cheerful-looking boy, who, although no older than Philip, looked so very much like a little gentleman.

"Shall you like to go?" Lance said, presently.

Nan really felt she couldn't go on saying "yes" to everything, and so with a great effort she said:

"I want to go very much. Is it—is it nice there?"

"It's a jolly old house where you are going," said Lance, "but I don't know whether you'll enjoy it much, it's so slow, so stupid. Still, perhaps you're not accustomed to much fun." Lance could hardly imagine the cheese-monger's family as very entertaining.

"Oh yes, we have a great deal of fun sometimes," said Nan, gaining confidence. "In winter we coast and skate, and in summer there are always picnics, and sometimes a circus."

"But at home—wasn't there ever any fun at home?"

Nan could not remember anything which impressed her as particularly enjoyable in-doors.

"No," she said, slowly, "I don't think there was. Marian always liked to tend the shop, but I never cared so much for that. I didn't like the smell of the cheeses, don't you know."

"It was a cheese shop?" Lance looked very much interested.

"Cheese and butter, and eggs and hams," Nan recited the list glibly.

"Well," said Lancelot, very gravely, "there won't be anything like that at Beverley; and see here, Nan, I'll just give you a friendly hint. I don't think I'd talk much about the shop before Cousin Letitia. You see, she might not like it—don't be ashamed of it," added the boy, flushing a little; "I don't mean you to be mean about it, only you won't need to talk of it."

Nan felt that she had begun to put her old life behind her when she was arrayed in the brown cashmere, and now little by little she was learning to feel as the people around her felt; that, after all, she would be expected to act and appear and think very differently about everything as soon as she was in Beverley.

"What do you do?" said Nan, looking brightly at her new acquaintance. "Do you live at Beverley?"

Lance nodded.

"When I'm home," he said. "I come to school near here, at Barnabas Academy. When I'm home I live quite near to where you're going to be. Oh, I do lots of things! Boys are so different from girls. I'm captain of our baseball club, for one thing, and we are jolly good cricketers too, I tell you. At home I do all sorts of things. Phyllis and I are great chums; Phyllis is a regular brick." He might have said more, but at this moment Phyllis reappeared. Nan looked at her a little anxiously. She wondered if she was going to feel offended with her about the note; but the young lady was perfectly cheerful, and even kissed Nan when she said, "Now, dear, we will go down to supper. Mrs. Grange is waiting."