"Nan!"
The little governess was beside her in a flash, her own face almost as white and seamed as the girl's.
The little governess was beside her.
"O Miss Blake! this man—make him go away; make some one send him away. He's annoying me—and my foot!"
The governess grew if possible a shade paler. "What man?" she demanded sharply, "Where?"
Nan could not speak. She indicated with a mute gesture. Miss Blake looked behind her, but if there had actually been such a man as the girl described he must certainly have taken to his heels. They were standing alone in the midst of the hurrying crowd.
"O Nan!" cried the governess, not stopping to argue the question, "where have you been? Delia and I have been frantic with worry. She is out now hunting for you. She went one way and I another."
Nan could not reply. The torture in her ankle grew fiercer with every movement. She shook her head silently and limped on.