"Thar's a pone o' braid on the shelf, un'er thet dish," said Daniella, "an' thar's rashers hangin' up thar, an' thar's long sweetenin' in thet jug. Thar am' no other kin'."
Nan was mystified but she said nothing.
"All grandad has to hev is a bowl of coffee an' some braid," Daniella went on. "I'm goin' away fur a little while, grandad," she said, turning to the old man. "Now you behave yo'se'f an' don't give no trouble."
"Nobody'll git anythin' outen me," said the old man with a chuckle. "I'll be as dumb as an oyster."
"He don't know what I'm talkin' about," Daniella explained. "You needn't min' him, jest keep up the fiah an' see that he doesn't fool with hit."
"If we're going, we must start at once," said Polly, "so you can get back to-night, Nan," to which remark Nan heartily agreed.
The glory of the red jacket and new shoes did not fill Daniella's thoughts, for now that her fears were aroused, she was more and more anxious about her mother, and she climbed up into the carriage with no just appreciation of the situation.
At the last moment, Polly came back. "It seems perfectly dreadful to leave you here with that silly old man, Nan," she said. "I shall not have an easy moment till I know you are safe at home."
"Oh, don't bother about me," Nan replied. "I shall do very well, but I do hope Daniella will get back before night."
So they drove off and the last thing that Nan saw of them was the gleam of the red jacket as the carriage disappeared behind the trees down the longer and less steep road by which it had come. She wondered what she would do with herself during the hours which must intervene before she could be released. But here her habit of dreaming came in well, and she was presently building air-castles while the old man dozed, or muttered to himself in the corner.