“How flushed your cheeks are, Nancy!” said Kitty when the little girl joined her.
“Never mind, Kit,” answered Nancy in an almost cross tone for her. “Come and let us look at the pretty chicks. I am so sick of being flattered!”
“Has Augusta been doing that?”
“Oh yes—no—I mean I don’t know; but don’t let us bother about her.”
“You are getting quite fond of Gussie, aren’t you, Nan?”
Nan opened her eyes very wide. An emphatic “No” was on her lips, but instead she said, “Yes—of course.”
They went to the farmyard and spent an hour of what was perfect bliss to Kitty, examining the birds. Then they each occupied a hammock in the garden. Kitty read a new story-book, and Nancy lay with her eyes shut, thinking of the dreadful thing which had befallen her.
“I was wicked before,” she said to herself, “but never as wicked as I shall be to-night. Oh, how I hate myself! But she has got my paper which has her promise that I may tell. She can put things right about my darling bird; and she can tell me the story which Mrs. Richmond has promised to tell me some day. Oh! she has tempted me, and I will do it; I must, for I am too miserable to stay any longer as I am.”
“Nancy,” said Uncle Peter’s voice at that moment, “will you come for a walk with me? I want to go down to the seashore; will you be my companion?”
“Won’t you go, Kitty?” asked Nancy, for the Captain’s society was by no means to her taste just then.