"Nobody asked you, sir!" quoted the governess, gayly.
"Then what are you putting on my things for?"
"Ready, Delia?" sang out Miss Blake, cheerfully.
Nan heard the front door open. Then heavy steps came clumping along the hall, and in another moment she was being borne down the outer steps and set comfortably in a carriage by the good old Irish coachman, Mike, from the livery stable round the corner.
"Are you comfortable?" asked Miss Blake, with her foot on the step. "Have you everything you need?"
Nan nodded, and the governess, taking her place beside her, motioned to Michael, who climbed to his seat on the box, and off they drove.
"There is Delia at the window! Let's wave to her!" cried Miss Blake, with one of her happy girl-hearted laughs.
It seemed to Nan that she had never seen the Park look as beautiful as it did to-day. To be sure, most of the trees were bare, but the naked branches stood out delicate and clear against the blue of the violet-clouded sky and by the lake-shore the pollard willows were gray and misty, and a few russet maple trees still held their leaves against the sweeping wind. They saw numberless wheels spinning along the smooth paths, and though the governess said nothing, Nan knew she had given up this chance of a ride for her sake.
Impulsively she put out her hand and laid it on Miss Blake's.
"If it weren't for me you'd be on your wheel now, wouldn't you?" she asked.