“I have done very well, and learned a great many things—not book-learning, you know; I have had no time for that, but perhaps I shall have now. You have a fine lot of books here; would you mind if I read them in the evenings and on Sundays?” she asked, with a wistful look towards the shelf in the corner.
“You can take one with you to the office every day, to read in your waiting spells. I’m only afraid that they’re not educating sort of books, being mostly interesting reading. But here have I been talking, talking, talking, and you so tired that you look fit to drop. Come away to bed directly, child,” said Mrs. Nichols, getting up in a great hurry on discovering how late it was.
“Shall I clear supper for you first?” asked Nell, who was unaccustomed to be waited upon.
“Did any one ever hear the like? You are not my hired girl, remember, but a young lady boarder; and I’ve got to make you comfortable, or there’ll be ructions somewhere.” And Mrs. Nichols laughed at her own cheerful wit, as she piloted Nell into the bedroom prepared for her.
Such a cosy, cheerful little chamber it was, with wooden walls, wooden ceiling, and wooden floor; and there was a white curtain drawn over the window, and a red-and-white spread on the bed.
Nell fell asleep directly her head touched the pillow, for she was just worn out with the manifold excitements of the day, and she did not wake again until Mrs. Nichols called her at half-past six o’clock the next morning.
Snow had fallen during the night, and Nell had to wade ankle-deep through the soft whiteness on her way to the depot; but it was only a short distance, and she was vigorous from her long night of deep, untroubled slumber.
There was a new zest in her life this morning, which made all things look different. Her limitations in the matters of training and education were as apparent to her as ever; but a great burden had been taken from her shoulders by the revelations of her hostess last night. It was something to know that Doss Umpey was not her mother’s father, and that she owed him neither love nor duty on the score of kinship. Some gratitude might be due to him for those years in which he had given her the semblance of a home; but Nell had quite sufficient common sense to see that the old man would not have taken her if he had not seen that she would be no expense to him, and he had not hesitated to leave her at the mercy of the cold world when it suited his purpose to go into hiding.
“But the past is past, and I’ll get on now,” she said to herself, in a gleeful tone, as she raked out the ashes from the office stove and kindled the fire. “I’ll get some education too, as soon as I can afford to have lessons. Meanwhile I’ll just learn everything that comes my way, and every little helps.”
Her heart was singing the same blithe song all the morning, while she swept and dusted the office, which Miss Simpson had not troubled to leave tidy on quitting the post.