"Uncle! they wouldn't hurt you. And it's such hard work to keep a secret."
"Ah, poor child! And it may be a long, long time," considered Mr. Mayo. Then he asked suddenly, "Where are you going from here? Do you know these ladies' plans?"
"To spend the winter in France. The name of the place is like mine. Nan—Nan—No! not Nancy."
"Nantes?"
"Yes, uncle. Nantes. That's it."
"When you get to Nantes, then, you may tell your friends about seeing me."
Through the fog a policeman loomed in view, coming leisurely down the quiet street.
"I must go," Mr. Mayo said hurriedly. "Good-by, Nancy pet."
Anne caught his hand in both of hers. "Oh, uncle!" she cried. "Don't go. I want you. I want to go with you."
"Dear little one! What a fool I was! oh, what a fool! Good-by!"