It was Hester’s turn to stare, for she had often spoken of Nan to this beloved friend, who had listened to her narrative and had appeared to sympathise.
“My little sister, of course,” she exclaimed. “I have often talked to you about her, Dora. Are you not glad she is coming?”
“No, my dear child, I can’t say that I am. If you wish to retain my friendship, Hester, you must be careful to keep the little mite away from me; I can’t bear small children.”
Hester walked away with her heart swelling, and she fancied she heard the two elder girls laughing as she left the play-room.
Many other girls, however, in the school thoroughly sympathised with Hester, and amongst them no one was more delighted than Susan Drummond.
“I am awfully good-natured not to be as cross as two sticks, Hetty,” she exclaimed, “for I am being turned out of my comfortable room; and whose room do you suppose I am now to share? why, that little imp Annie Forest’s.” But Hester felt charitable, even toward Annie, on this happy day.
In the evening little Nan arrived. She was a very pretty, dimpled, brown-eyed creature, of just three years of age. She had all the imperious ways of a spoilt baby, and, evidently, fear was a word not to be found in her vocabulary. She clung to Hester, but smiled and nodded to the other girls, who made advances to her, and petted her, and thought her a very charming baby. Beside Nan, all the other little girls in the school looked old. She was quite, two years the youngest, and it was soon very evident that she would establish that most imperious of all reigns—a baby reign—in the school.
Hester fondled her and talked to her, and the little thing sat on her knee and stroked her face.
“Me like ’oo, Hetty,” she said several times, and she added many other endearing and pretty words which caused Hester’s heart to swell with delight. She alone, of all the girls, had taken no notice of the new plaything. She walked to her usual corner, sat down on the floor, and began to play cup and ball for the benefit of two or three of the smallest children. Hester did not regard her in the least; she sat with Nan on her knee, stroking back her sunny curls, and remarking on her various charms to several of the girls who sat round her.
“See, how pretty that dimple in her chin is,” she said, “and oh, my pet, your eyes look wiser, and bigger, and saucier than ever. Look at me, Nan; look at your own Hetty.”