“Now, come,” said Mr. Pryor; “you know exactly how I like my tea; pour it out for me. One lump of sugar and a very little cream. Ah! that is right.”
Nan ministered to the dear old gentleman, and as he chatted upon every subject but the one closest her heart, she tried to cheer up for his sake.
By-and-by her visit came to an end. She bade Mr. Pryor good-bye. He told her that he would be in any day if she wished to speak to him, but he did not again allude to her secret. Mrs. Vincent was enraptured with Nan’s appearance, and made her turn round two or three times in order to get a good view of the cut of her dress.
“I declare, Phoebe,” she said, “you could take the pattern of that in your mind, so to speak. It is a very stylish little costume; most elegant it would look on my little granddaughter, Rosie Watson.”
Phoebe sniffed in a somewhat aggressive way; she did not consider that Rosie Watson had any right to the same pattern as Nan. Soon afterwards Susan and Nan left the house and went back to Mayfield Gardens.
CHAPTER XII—“I SHALL STAY FOR A YEAR.”
Nan was so unhappy that night that she could not sleep. She was glad that she had a room to herself, for it did not matter how often she tossed from side to side, or how often she turned her pillow, or how often she groaned aloud. Mr. Pryor’s words, “There is no middle path,” kept ringing over and over in her ears. She thought of her mother, too, and of what her mother would feel if she saw her now—a little girl surrounded by every kindness, surrounded by luxuries and the good things of life, and yet, because she was afraid, going down and down and down the broad and steep path which led to destruction.
“It means that I will not see mother if I do not tell,” thought the child; and then she burst into tears. Towards morning she made up her mind that she would try to overcome her terrors; she would at least see Mr. Pryor and tell him exactly what had happened—she would tell him the whole truth—and be guided by his advice.
“Perhaps he will not think it necessary for me to tell everything,” thought the child. “Anyhow, I know he will not be hard on me, for I do not think he could be that on any one.”
Having finally made up her mind to confide in Mr. Pryor, she became soothed and comparatively happy, and dropped off towards morning into a quiet sleep.