“My lass, my lass, you have applied to Farmer King in your trouble, and Farmer King won’t desert you. I have not the most remote notion what trouble it can be that worrits a poor little lass, but, such as it is, Farmer King will be your friend. There is no doubt, my dear, that when they miss you at The Dales they will come to look for you here, and what am I to do?”
“Hide me! Oh, hide me! I can’t go home.”
“What a lark!” cried Nancy. “We could, couldn’t we, father?”
“And we won’t,” said the farmer, bringing his hand down with a great bang on the table. “What we do we’ll do above-board. We did wrong that time in the summer when we took miss to that picnic and got her into trouble. Now we’re bound to see her out of her trouble. It has to do with that night partly, hasn’t it, missy?”
“I have never been happy since,” said Pauline.
“Well, then, my dear, I said I would help you out if the time came, and I will. You shall stay here—I vow it—and I am just going to get on my horse Caesar, and I shall ride over to The Dales this blessed minute. You leave it to me. You leave it all to me, my dear.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FARMER KING.
Since Pauline’s illness she had very often not been down in time for breakfast. The fact, therefore, that she did not appear on this special morning caused no excitement in the mind of any one. Miss Tredgold was so much absorbed in the task which lay before her that she scarcely noticed the little girl’s absence; nurse would see to her, would take her a proper meal, would do all that was necessary. Very often nurse did not disturb Pauline until long after the others had breakfasted, for the doctor had said that she ought never to be wakened when asleep, and that she ought to have as much rest and sleep as possible. So breakfast came to an end. There was a weight in the air. Now, it happened that the day was a specially fine one, for the skies, after crying so many tears, had cleared up, the sun had come out, and the few flowers that were left held up their heads gayly and tried to forget the storm through which they had lived and the winter days which were before them.