"I know for a fact, that she told Mrs. Seymour as how your memory was going," boldly announced Baker,—with her mistress's little rat tail of back hair, tightly clenched in her hand, "and that you really wanted someone like herself, to look after you, and your affairs."
Although Mrs. Jenkins had angrily repudiated this information, and commanded the maid to hold her tongue, nevertheless the dart rankled, and went far to counteract Mrs. Taylor's honeyed speeches, and audacious flatteries. To these, Mrs. Jenkins listened greedily,—but she was a sly old thing, and took notes. One or two of her visitors, had ventured hints respecting Mrs. Taylor and her pretensions,—for her arrogance had become insupportable. It had been whispered, that she had already decided what she intended to do with the house in Queen's Gate, when it was her property; and had more than once rashly intimated, that her dear friend Mrs. Jenkins was "breaking up!"
Nancy, who was much surprised at the news of her legacy, stored the picture, sent the pearls to her bank, and went into slight mourning. In these days, she felt nearly as dull and silent as Roger De Wolfe,—although she made a valiant effort to appear otherwise: she was counting the very hours, until she could receive an answer to her letter,—but perhaps Derek would not reply?
Her hopes went up and down, like a see-saw—at one moment she was sanguine—the next visited by despair. Undoubtedly it was an agreeable distraction to Nancy, and a pleasure to her other friends, when Mrs. Ffinch appeared upon the scene. She looked thin, and weather-beaten, but as active, and energetic as ever. At first she came down to stay with the Hillsides,—and later to the Court,—a much more comfortable abode. She had frequently visited there as a girl, and now made herself thoroughly at home. Naturally she saw a great change in her protégée; here was another Nancy from the flapper of Fairplains,—and the two, had long and intimate talks: having many topics, and one secret in common.
"And so you had Mayne at home," said Finchie.
With this abrupt remark, she had opened their first tête-à-tête. "Yes. By accident you fell not 'among thieves,' but, among his friends! That marriage was a terrible disaster. If I had not happened to be away,—it would never have taken place. Just see, what a fix you are in; a girl of your appearance and position, could marry almost anybody,—including my poor Tony. Dear me, Nancy, how much I should like you for a niece! Perhaps it could come off after all; for I suppose you are aware, that Captain Mayne could get rid of you if he liked.—Desertion! but what an esclandre! You would have to go back to Fairplains, and bury yourself temporarily among the coffee bushes! You and he have met I know,—and met often, I believe he was actually staying here!"
Nancy nodded.
"And there it ended for the present? I understand he has returned to India. I do not know what he and Josie have been up to,—at least I can guess what she has been doing,—flirting for all she is worth,—but she has her knife into Derek Mayne up to the hilt; and for what reason?—the rest is silence! Ah! here is the postman coming up the back avenue, let us go down and waylay him, for this is Indian Mail day, and I am expecting the usual screed from my old man."
As the ladies waited whilst the postman sorted out "the Court letters," Nancy's heart almost stood still; would there be one for her, or not? There was! She turned her back upon her two companions, and opened it with trembling fingers.
Hawari Camp,
Darwaza Hills,
N. W. Frontier.