“Oh, nurse!” said Rosie, “not your daughter Ann?”
“The same, my love; she that has eight children, and four of them with carrotty hair. She wants me to go up to London, to see her to-morrow; that’s the news the telegraph boy has brought, Miss Rosie. My daughter Ann says, ‘Mother, meet me to-morrow at aunt’s, at two o’clock.’ Well, well, it’s mighty contrary; and that new child coming, and all!”
“But you’ll have to go, nurse. It would be dreadful for your daughter Ann not to see you again.”
“Yes, dear, that’s all very fine; but what’s to become of all you children? How is this blessed baby to get on without his old Nan?”
“Oh, nurse, you must go! It would be so cruel if you didn’t,” exclaimed Rosie.
Nurse sat thinking hard for a minute or two; then saying she would go and consult her mistress, she left the room.
The upshot of all this was, that at an early hour the following morning nurse started for London, and a girl, of the name of Patience, from the village, came up to take her place in the nursery.
Mrs. Rogers was particularly busy during these days. She had some friends staying with her, and in addition to this her eldest daughter, Ethel, was ill, and took up a good deal of her mother’s time; in consequence of these things the nursery children were left entirely to the tender mercies of Patience.
Not that that mattered much, for they were independent children, and always found their own amusements. The first day of nurse’s absence, too, was fine, and they spent the greater part of it in the open air; but the second day was wet—a hopelessly wet day—a dull day with a drizzling fog, and no prospect whatever of clearing up.