“What is the good word from out of doors, honey?” she asked.
Nan's face was rather serious and she could not coax her usual smile into being. Her last words with Bess Harley had savored of a misunderstanding, and Nan was not of a quarrelsome disposition.
“I'm afraid there isn't any real good word to be brought from outside tonight, Momsey,” she confessed, coming back to stand by her mother's chair.
“Can that be possible, Daughter!” said Mrs. Sherwood, with her low, caressing laugh. “Has the whole world gone wrong?”
“Well, I missed in two recitations and have extras to make up, in the first place,” rejoined Nan ruefully.
“And what else?”
“Well, Bess and I didn't have exactly a falling out; but I couldn't help offending her in one thing. That's the second trouble.”
“And is there a 'thirdly,' my dear?” queried little Mrs. Sherwood tranquilly.
“Oh, dear, yes! The worst of all!” cried Nan. “The yellow poster is up at the mills.”
“The yellow poster?” repeated her mother doubtfully, not at first understanding the significance of her daughter's statement.