“He is my dog no more,” the little girl thought; but the weight on her heart prevented her feeling the loss of Jack as she otherwise would have done.
Nan sat at the table, her lesson-books piled up in front of her; Augusta was buried in a new story-book, and forgot every one but herself. Presently Nan spoke.
“Augusta,” she said, “I have been thinking.”
“Well?” said Augusta. She put down her book and glanced at Nan.
Nan had a frown between her brows, but notwithstanding this fact her handsome little face looked very striking.
“She will be far more beautiful than any of us when she is grown-up,” thought Augusta. “Why should she have such a remarkable face? I hate her for it.”
“Unless you have something very important to say, please reserve your conversation until I get to a less fascinating part of my book,” said Augusta. “The hero is on the eve of proposing to the heroine, and I cannot make out whether she will accept him or not.”
“That is only a book, and I am real,” was Nan’s answer. “I want to say something to you.”
“Yes?”
“I have been making up my mind. You know what happened on the day you came.”