Miss Dahlia was still asleep and Mrs. Sperry gladly took her sewing up to the big house while Nan rode away on Binnie.
She had not far to go, for a quarter of a mile down the coast highway was a group of picturesque bungalows about a small hotel called Miracielo. Here each summer wealthy folk from the inland country came and took up their abode. This year it chanced that there were many young children among the tourists, and Mrs. Welton, manager of the exclusive hotel, had advertised for someone who would both instruct and entertain the little guests.
Nan was admitted to Mrs. Welton’s reception room and almost immediately a pleasant woman of refinement appeared and graciously welcomed the visitor. Nan explained her mission and showed the letter from Mrs. Dorsey.
“This is indeed interesting,” Mrs. Welton exclaimed. “My niece, Daisy Wells, attends that school and in her letters she has often mentioned Nan Barrington.” Then the kindly woman hesitated as though not quite certain that she ought to voice the thought that had come to her. Finally she said: “You will pardon me, I know, for mentioning a matter so personal, but I have always understood that your aunt possessed great wealth. Will she be willing that you entertain these little ones?”
Nan, after a moment’s thought, decided to tell Mrs. Welton the whole truth and that good woman was much impressed in favor of the girl who was trying in every way to keep the frail Miss Dahlia Barrington from a knowledge of the loss.
“It would not be possible for me to come each day to Miracielo,” Nan said, “but we have such a delightful rustic house in our garden; do you suppose, Mrs. Welton, that the children might come there each afternoon if I can persuade Aunt Dahlia to think favorably of my plan?”
“I do indeed,” the pleased woman smilingly agreed. “That is the time when many of my guests desire to rest, and they would be glad to have the children away. If their mothers consent, I can send the little ones to you in our car every day.”
Nan arose, her dark eyes glowing. “I thank you Mrs. Welton,” she said, “and tomorrow I will let you know if I have won my aunt’s consent to the plan.”
That afternoon the gypsy girl broached the subject of the little class almost timidly, and her aunt said lovingly, “But, Nan, darling, don’t you realize that all I have is also yours? You do not need to earn money.”
“Dear Aunt Dahlia,” the girl replied with sudden tears in her eyes, “I well know that whatever you have, you wish to share with me, but truly I would just love to try teaching for a short time.”