Tears trembled on her eyelashes; she raised her eyes and looked full at Mr. Pryor.
“And there is a lot of crape,” she said. “Everybody must know that she was a very near relation.”
“And you made it yourself?”
“Phoebe and I made it ourselves; and Maria is in black too.” She touched the doll with her finger.
“Then you shall go to the funeral in that dress,” said Mr. Pryor. “I take it upon me to say that your mother would wish it, and that is enough.”
So Nan attended her mother’s funeral in the dress she had made herself, and stood close to the grave, and tried vaguely to realise what was taking place. But what chiefly impressed her was the depth of the shabby crape on her little skirt, and the fact that she had bought her mourning out of her very own savings, and that the doll, Sophia Maria, from whom she would not be parted for a single moment, was also in mourning.
CHAPTER IV.—THE BEST GIRL.
Immediately after the funeral Mrs. Richmond took Nan’s hand.
“Now, dear,” she said, “you come home with me.”
Nan turned first red and then very white. She was just about to reply when Mr. Pryor came forward.