“I know what I want to do,” said Nancy. “I want to walk up and down outside a house.”
“Oh, lor’, Miss Nancy! that do sound queer.”
“And there is another thing,” continued Nancy, speaking very eagerly, and a spot of bright colour coming into each of her cheeks; “I want you, Susan, not to tell anybody what we are going to do. Do not gossip about it when you get back to the servants’ hall. You won’t, will you?”
“Not me,” said Susan; “I ain’t that sort.”
“I know you are not,” said Nancy in a sweet tone of voice, touching Susan’s arm for a minute with her hand; “and because I know it, that is why I like you so much. Now then, this is the house.”
Nan found herself outside the Asprays’ dwelling. She looked up with a beating heart. The house was handsome, large, and commodious; compared with the Richmonds’ house, which was also a very handsome one, it looked palatial. There were balconies to most of the windows; and awnings were put up now, and sun-blinds, and a lot of people were seated in the drawing-room balcony chatting and laughing. Their laughter was borne down on the breeze, and it reached Nan’s ears. They were having tea on the balcony, and a couple of girls were seated close together talking eagerly. One of them turned to her companion and said:
“Do you see that odd-looking child? She keeps walking up and down just outside our house. I suppose the person with her is her maid. Don’t you recognise her, Flora?”
“No, I am sure I do not, Constance.”
“Well, you have a very short memory. Don’t you know that time when we were at the florist’s round the corner, and a nasty, horrid bull-terrier came and pulled your skirt? It belonged to that child. Oh, see! oh, see! She has raised her eyes and is looking at us. Of course it is she.”
“Of course; I remember quite well now,” said Constance. “How funny! She is a strange-looking little girl! I do not admire her at all. I trust we may never see her again.”