“There is nothing else,” said Nancy.
It made her feel cross to see Pennie take it so quietly, and, refusing to go into the house with her, she marched off rather sulkily by herself. First she wandered listlessly about the garden, casting looks of disdain at Andrew, who was quite unaware of them, and then she went down to the white gate leading into the road, and thought how beautiful the triumphant arch would have looked.
Presently she climbed on to the top of the gate, and sat there feeling very cross with all the world—with Andrew, with Miss Grey, with the boys, and even with Pennie because she was not cross too. Engaged in these moody thoughts, she at length saw a large figure coming slowly down the road towards her. It wore black baggy clothes and a wideawake hat, and it often stopped and made lines in the dusty road with the stout stick it carried. By all this Nancy knew that it was Dr Budge, and as she sat there with her chin resting on her hand she wondered how often he would stop before he reached her, to make pictures in the dust.
She thought she would count. And she began to say one, two, three, aloud, so that she might remember. The doctor got nearer and nearer, quite unconscious of the little figure on the vicarage gate.
“Five,” said Nancy’s clear little voice, breaking in on his reflections as he came to a stand-still near her.
She was so used to be unnoticed by him that she was surprised to see him look quickly at her, as though he knew who she was. Not being at all shy she at once gave him a cheerful little nod.
“Five what?” asked the doctor.
“I was counting how many times you stopped before you came to the gate,” said Nancy.
Dr Budge laughed. “Well, you’re not very busy then, I suppose?” he said, “or is this the way you generally spend your mornings?”
“I’m not at all busy,” said Nancy in an injured tone as she remembered her disappointment, “but I should like to be. I wanted to be very busy indeed, but I can’t, because of that tiresome Andrew.”