The Christmas holidays were over now, and once more governesses and pupils were busy giving and receiving instruction in Mrs. Elder's Select Establishment for Young Ladies. A few scholars still remained absent, reluctant perhaps to come back to hard work after three weeks' ease and gaiety; and amongst the list of truants was the name of Winnifred Blake, whose blithe little face had been like a ray of sunlight in the dingy school-room. "Confined to the house through indisposition," Mrs. Elder explained to each anxious inquirer after the tiny favourite. "Nothing serious; only a cold caught during holiday-time." But the days passed by, and still no Winnie appeared.
Nellie had never seen or heard of her since that night at Dingle Cottage when they had laughed so heartily together over poor Aunt Meg and her infirmities; and she felt the separation keenly. At first the other school-mates plied her with questions regarding Winnie's absence, all of which she was unable to answer or parry successfully; and so by degrees, and the help of Ada's sarcastic tongue, the secret oozed out, and Nellie's star paled accordingly. The poisoned shaft of carefully-veiled words struck home with new power: there was no Winnie to whom to turn for sympathy, and so the old cross had to be taken up again and carried day after day. Some of the girls sided sensibly with Nellie, and tried to make school-life pleasant to her; but they were unfortunately in the minority, and often got snubbed and censured by the others for their kindness.
One afternoon, however, as Nellie was wending her way home from school, a hand was laid on her shoulder, while an honest, kindly voice said suddenly in her ear, "Well, it is good to get a peep at you again, Nell. How are you?" and Dick's freckled face shone down on the rosy one by his side.
The girl looked up with a happy smile. "O Dick!" she gasped; and then it seemed as if words failed her, and she stood simply holding his hand, and gazing with such genuine happiness into his eyes that the boy laughed outright.
"What's up, Nell?" he inquired teasingly. "I declare such evident admiration makes me feel quite bashful."
Nellie gave a little soft smile. "Don't be a tease, Dick," she said; "I am only so pleased to see you and hear about Winnie."
Dick placed his hand on his heart and bowed. "The pleasure is mutual," he began; but receiving an energetic shake of the arm he continued, "Oh, Win will soon be all right. She's been croaking like a raven for the last fortnight or so, but is almost well now."
"When did she catch cold?"
Dick lowered his voice. "Coming home that night from Dingle Cottage. We missed the 'bus—walked—and Win caught a chill."
"Was she very ill?"