“I don't know whether I said visit or not, but truly I didn't think you meant to stay over night,” Nancy replied.
“Wal, I guess ye said so, an' here's the street. It's only a lane, an' that little bit of a house where the cat sits on the step is the one where yer aunt lives. It's kind er cosy, ain't it?”
Nancy did not notice Sue's question. She was looking at the little house, the tiny fruit-trees in the yard, and the white cat that sat upon the upper step, washing its face in the sun.
The place looked very poor and small after the Dainty mansion and the trim stone cottage. But small though it was, it looked far better than the old house in the city where Steve Ferris had taken her, when he had stolen her from her home and friends.
[CHAPTER XII]
THE NECKLACE
Nancy could not help making friends with the white cat, and it purred with delight at being noticed. Sue slipped a key into the lock, and opened the door. They entered the tiny hall, and the white cat followed them, as they walked towards a little room at the rear.
“Is that you, Sue? Did ye see her? Did she come?” called a thin, tired voice.
Sue opened the door of the sitting-room and Nancy ran in, all sympathy now for the aunt who was really ill.
Mrs. Ferris lay upon an old carpet-covered lounge, and she raised herself upon her elbow to look at Nancy as she stood before her.