"Have you any letters for me?" she asks.
She is evidently known to the woman behind the counter, who replies with small courtesy, "There is nothing for you."
Nelly holds out her hand with eager imploring. She has not heard the answer.
"I told you there are no letters," says the woman.
"I beg your pardon," sighs Nelly, humbly; and looking round the shop, as though to find some other excuse for having entered, picks up a paper, pays for it, and retraces her steps home. Home! Alas!
The stable-lad follows her and is presently aware that somebody is following him. It is a man, and the lad turns and confronts him. The stranger takes no notice of the lad, and strives to pass.
"Where are you pushing to?" cries the lad, being himself the obstructive party.
"Out of my way, my lad," says the man, adding under his breath, "I must not lose her now."
"What are you following that lady for?" demands the lad.
The question is answered by another.