“Where shall I send the flowers to, miss?” asked the man who was serving the girls, bending over the counter as he did so.
“Send them to Mrs. Aspray, Court Mansions,” was the elder girl’s reply. “Be quick, please,” she added; “you had better send a man round with all those flowers in pots. We are expecting company this afternoon, and mother says the flowers must arrive before two o’clock.”
The man promised; and the girls, the elder one still very cross and angry, left the shop.
Just as she was doing so she flashed her handsome blue eyes in Nan’s direction, and Nan gave her back quite as indignant a glance.
“Well, miss, and what can I do for you?” said the shopman, now turning to Nan.
Nan gave her order; the man promised to attend to it immediately, and the little girl returned home.
Now, how it happened she never knew, but going back, she trod suddenly on a piece of orange-peel. The next moment she was lying on her face, white and sick and dizzy with pain. She had sprained her ankle. For a moment or two she lay still. Then a man rushed up and raised her to her feet. She made a frantic effort, and leaning on his arm, got as far back as Mrs. Richmond’s house. When the door was opened for her, great was the astonishment of Caroline the parlour-maid.
“Why, Miss Nan,” she cried, “how white you are! What has happened?”
“I have sprained my foot. I fell when I was out; I trod on a piece of orange-peel.”
“And you were out, miss, all alone?”