“I’m not inquiring for Flossie in particular at present. I want that other hussy—I want Miss Nesta Aldworth. Where is she?”
“I have come,” said Horace, breaking in at this juncture, and speaking in a most self-restrained voice—“to take my sister Nesta home with me, and to thank you most sincerely, Mrs Griffiths, for your kindness.”
“It’s the most dastardly, disgraceful thing that ever occurred, and to think that I should have had a hand in it,” said Griffiths. “I have been done as neatly as ever man was. I, paying all the expenses and treating the girl as though she were my own child, and thinking that Aldworth, there, and his father, would be pleased, and believe that I meant well by his family, and all the time I was doing them a base injury. It’s a wonder that girl’s mother isn’t in her grave, and so she would be if it wasn’t for—”
“My mother is all right, thank you,” said Horace. “But I am most anxious to catch the last train back to Newcastle. Is Nesta upstairs? Can she come down? I want to take her away.”
“She is not,” said Mrs Griffiths, and now she trembled exceedingly, and edged nearer to Horace, as though for protection. “It is my fault, you mustn’t blame her. I got the telegram—I’d rather not say anything about it, but I can’t hide the truth from you, Griffiths. You are so masterful when you get red in the face like that—I’m just terrified of you, and I must out with the truth. The poor child was so frightened that she told me what she had done. She owned up handsome, I must say, and then she said: ‘Lend me a little money to take me home—I will go home at once.’ She was frightfully cut up at nobody really missing her. She had evidently thought she would be sent for at once. I own that she did wrong.”
“Of course, she did wrong,” shouted Griffiths. “I never heard of a meaner thing to do, a meaner and a lower, and if I thought that my child—”
It was on this scene that Flossie, radiant with the success of her happy day, broke. She opened the door wide, rushed in, and said:
“Oh, if I haven’t had—where are you, Nesta? Why, whatever is the matter?”
“You come along here, Flossie,” said Griffiths. “There’s no end of a row, that’s the truth. Come and stand by me. Tell me what you know of this Nesta business—this runaway business, this daring to deceive an honest man, this creeping off, so to speak, in the dark. Tell me what you know. Own up, child, own up, and be quick.”
“Yes, tell us what you know,” said Horace. His voice was kind; Flossie turned to him.