“Do you know, Gussie, Uncle Pete—a good genie, I mean—has brought me such a lovely frock; very like yours, only, I think, nicer. It was in a box, and the box was on my bed. I have just unfastened it and looked at the frock. But isn’t it just too sweet of him?”
“Yes,” said Augusta. “Then there will be two of us to look pretty to-night.”
“I want to look very, very pretty,” said Nancy, “just to show Uncle Pete how grateful I am to him.”
“Well, don’t chat any more now; your silly talk makes my head worse than ever. Run away now. Only listen; if there is any worse news, be sure you let me know.”
“Yes,” said Nancy; and she left the room.
Augusta tossed from side to side of her bed. Troubled thoughts were visiting her. A fear, grave and mighty, was lying dormant in her breast; very little would make it start into full growth. She sat up presently and pushed the thick hair from her brows.
One of the housemaids came in, and started when she saw Augusta; then coming forward, she said in a tone of commiseration:
“Oh, Miss Gussie! I didn’t know you were here. And you do look bad, miss. Is there much the matter?”
“Only a stupid headache,” said Augusta. “It will be all right presently. I shall come down to have my fun when those tiresome poor people have gone; I am not going before.”
“We are all going to have a lark,” said the girl, who saw no reason for being extra respectful to Augusta, who was no favourite with the servants. “There are a lot of them coming; but Gaffer Jones can’t, nor can old Tilbury.”