“Never heard of it. It sounds goody-goody.”
“It is rather nice,” said Nan. “And here is Ministering Children.”
“Oh! I do not want anything of the religious order.”
“And here is—oh! here is a charming book—The Heir of Redclyffe, by Miss Yonge.”
“I have read it before, but I will glance through it again; just toss the volume across to me.”
Nan brought it in a meek fashion to Augusta, who took it, raised her eyes to the little dark face, and smiled.
“You are not a bad sort,” she said; “and you can be useful to me. I mean to make you useful. Now sit down, Nan, and do not make a noise. Read anything you like, only don’t disturb me.”
Augusta buried herself against some comfortable cushions, opened her book, and was lost in its contents. Nan, feeling sick and miserable, her ankle aching terribly, took the next most comfortable chair.
By-and-by there came a message for Augusta to go downstairs to Mrs. Richmond.
“That is right,” she said, jumping up. “How do I look, Nan? Hair tidy—eh?”