“Then I must go,” replied the old man; and presently he and his ladder appeared under the window of Augusta’s room. Augusta had partly dressed, and stood by the window giving directions. When the bangle was handed in to her she seized it, but not very graciously.
“Here,” she said to Simpson, “is a shilling; and I am much obliged to you. You will never speak of it, of course; it is quite a private matter, and you must never on any account tell.”
“I ain’t likely to tell what don’t concern me,” replied Simpson—“that is, I don’t tell unless I am arsked. But as to your shilling, miss, you can keep it, for I don’t want none of it.”
“As to your shilling, miss, you can keep it, for I don’t want none of it.”
He stepped down from the ladder and moved slowly away.
“What a horrid, impertinent old man!” said Augusta when he had gone. “But there! the bangle is all right. Put it into my jewellery drawer, Nancy. Oh dear! I wonder, Nancy, if you have ever felt frightened—scared, you know.”
“Yes; once I did,” replied Nancy.
“Did you? Oh! I wish you would tell me about it. It would interest me; it would be as good as a novel.”
“It was when mother was alive,” said Nancy. “The doctor said she was very ill, that she might be dead in the morning. She did not die—not—not then; but I spent an awful night. Yes, I was scared.”