She sat with her pen suspended, lost in thought.
“Very queer child,” she soliloquized; “not the least like the others. I can’t say that I specially care for her. At present I am not in love with any of my nieces; but of all of them, Penelope is the child I like the least. She tells tales; she tries to curry favor with me. Is she truthful? Is she sincere? I have a terrible fear within me that occasions may arise when Penelope would prove deceitful. There! what am I saying? A motherless child—my own niece—surely I ought to love her. Yes, I do love her. I will try to love them all. What did she say about a girl sitting on the lawn with my girls? It is nice to talk of the Dales as my girls; it gives me a sort of family feeling, just as though I were not an old maid. I wonder what friends my girls have made for themselves round here. Nancy King. I don’t know any people of the name of King who live about here. If Henry were any one else he would probably be able to tell me. I will go and see the girl for myself.”
Miss Tredgold left the room. She had a very stately walk. The girls always spoke of her movements as “sailing.” Miss Tredgold now sailed across the lawn, and in the same dignified fashion came up to the secluded nook where the girls, with Nancy King in their midst, were enjoying themselves. They were all talking eagerly. Nancy King was seated almost in the center of the group; the other girls were bending towards her. As Miss Tredgold appeared in view Josephine was exclaiming in her high-pitched, girlish voice:
“Oh, I say, Nancy! What screaming fun!”
When Josephine spoke Lucy clapped her hands, Helen laughed, Verena looked puzzled, and Pauline’s expression seemed to say she longed for something very badly indeed.
“My dears, what are you all doing?” suddenly cried Aunt Sophia.
She had come up quietly, and they had none of them heard her. It was just as if a pistol had gone off in their ears. The whole nine jumped to their feet. Nancy’s red face became redder. She pushed her gaily trimmed hat forward over her heated brows. She had an instinctive feeling that she had never before seen any one so dignified and magnificent as Miss Sophia Tredgold. She knew that this was the case, although Miss Sophia’s dress was almost dowdy, and the little brown slipper which peeped out from under the folds of her gray dress was decidedly the worse for wear. Nancy felt at the same time the greatest admiration for Miss Tredgold, the greatest dislike to her, and the greatest terror of her.
“Aunt Sophia,” said Verena, who could be a lady if she chose, “may I introduce our special friend——”
“And crony,” interrupted Nancy.
“Our special friend, Nancy King,” repeated Verena. “We have known her all our lives, Aunt Sophia.”