"Why, honey, what ails you? I never seed you lookin' like this before."
"You've never seen me ill before," answered Nan. "I thought the walk would do me good, but the sun—oh, Mr. Sanders! please don't ask me anything else."
With that, she ran up the steps very rapidly for an ill person, and stood a moment in the hallway.
"Be jigged ef she ain't wuss hit than any on us!" declared Mr. Sanders, to himself, as he turned away. "What a pity that she had to go an' git grown!"
Following the sound of voices, Nan went into the library. Mrs. Lumsden, who was still walking about restlessly, paused and tried to smile when she saw Nan; but it was only a make-believe smile. Nan went directly to her, and stood looking in the old gentlewoman's eyes. Then she kissed her quite suddenly and impulsively.
"Nan, you must be ill," Miss Fanny Tomlin declared.
"I am, Aunt Fanny; I am not feeling well at all."
"Lie there on the sofa, child," Mrs. Lumsden insisted. Taking Nan by the arm, she almost forced her to lie down.
"If you-all are talking secrets, I'll go away," said Nan.
"No, child," remarked Mrs. Lumsden; "we are talking about trouble, and trouble is too common to be much of a secret in this world." She seated herself on the edge of the sofa, and held Nan's hand, caressing it softly.