“Well, come, young monkeys,” said the Captain, making room for a niece to sit on each side of him. “Now then, what is the news? Oh, how your eager, silly little hearts beat! What is up, young-uns?”
“It is about Nan,” said Nora. “You know, Uncle Pete, that there never was a little girl less vain than Nancy.”
“My dear child, I am quite willing to believe you; but why should Nancy be vain?”
“Oh, you know she is sweetly pretty.”
“She is,” said the Captain; “she has quite a charming face.”
“And we want her to look the very prettiest girl in the room to-morrow night. Augusta has such a grand frock, sent all the way from London—a flounced and billowed and chiffoned dress, Uncle Pete—and she is so conceited about it; and to-night, when we were looking at it, Nancy said she would like a frock like that. Poor darling! we were rather surprised—though, after all, it did seem quite natural. And, Uncle Pete, we want her to have one; and, Uncle Pete, can you manage it?”
“Good gracious, my dear child! I know nothing about clothes.”
“Oh, couldn’t you go to town and see what the very grandest shop has—ready-made, you know? Surely there must be something that Nan could wear.”
“But to-morrow is the day of the festival. Even if I started now to London I could not be back in time.”
“But couldn’t you go to Exeter? You could get to Exeter in an hour and a half.”