“He was a great friend of mother’s, and it is most important; may I go, Miss Roy?”
Just at that moment Augusta strolled into the schoolroom.
“Ah, Nancy!” she said, “you promised to hold this wool for me. There is a great lot to be wound; it will take us quite half-an-hour. Come, we may as well start; I have got to wind all the coloured balls and put them in order for Lady Denby’s bazaar.”
“I cannot do it this evening,” replied Nan, shrugging her shoulders and turning back in sheer desperation to speak to Miss Roy.
“And I am afraid,” said Miss Roy, “I cannot go with you, dear, so there is an end of it.”
“What is it?” said Augusta. “What does she want, Miss Roy?”
“Why, this silly little girl,” said Miss Roy, who saw no reason for keeping Nan’s request a secret, “wants me to walk with her as far as Mr. Pryor’s.”
“Who in the name of fortune is Mr. Pryor?” asked Augusta.
“A friend of mine, and you have nothing to do with him,” said Nan, speaking fast, and her cheeks flushing with anger.
“Hoity-toity!” cried Augusta. “But I rather think I have something to do with all your friends; for are you not my very own most special friend—are you not, Nan? Come here and tell me so; come and tell me so now before Miss Roy.”