"No, no, lass," said the school-master, laughing; "I've enough shot in my locker to manage without your little store. Only"—Ned glanced at his wife; he knew that Persis had been looking forward with the pleasure of a child to his holiday-time; for him to go to London would spoil a pleasant plan which the Frankses had talked over for months. They were to have gone on that very afternoon on a short pleasure-trip to the sea-side; for Franks longed, as he owned, "to smell salt water again," which he had not done since he had left the profession of a sailor.
"What do you say, sweetheart?" asked Franks of his wife. "I leave the decision to you."
Persis stooped down and kissed her baby, probably to get a moment for thought, and then raising her head, said, with a smile which cost her some effort,—
"I think that you'd better be off to London."
Franks glanced at the clock, Nancy Sands's cuckoo-clock, which hung in his little parlor. "I might be off by the 12-30 train if I hoisted all sail," he cried. "I'll get my kit ready in no time. If I'm early in town I may see the lawyers to-day. I must stay over Sunday in London, but if I've a prosperous cruise, I hope to be back upon Monday."
Persis was too busy helping her husband, and putting up his dinner of cold meat, to have time to think of her own disappointment, till Ned Franks, quick and prompt in everything, had started off for the station at almost a running pace, with his little bundle fastened to a stick hanging over his shoulder. Norah had at once returned to the vicarage, full of hope for her friend, having perfect confidence that whatever business her uncle undertook he would do, and do well. Persis gave a little sigh as her husband disappeared in the distance, and with him all her prospect of a holiday-trip; yet she was glad that she had made the sacrifice of her own inclination; and, taking up her baby from the cradle in which she had placed him, at a slow pace she proceeded along the dusty road towards the cottage of her neighbor.
XXVII.
Nancy's Return.
With very mingled feelings had Nancy Sands returned to her home. It was in the twilight that she entered her native village. "I do not care," she said, "to have the gossips staring at me, or stopping me to talk."