“I know you are a very stupid, silly little girl, and that you grow more troublesome and more silly every day. Why, what is the matter now?”
“I cannot bear it,” said Nan.
She gave a cry and burst into floods of tears.
Now, this was by no means what Augusta wished. Nan in tears—in violent tears—was intolerable. She put down her book. She advanced towards Nan; then she stood still.
She stood absolutely still, staring straight before her; for the door was open, and a tall young man, with slim and graceful figure, bright blue eyes, curly hair, and the pleasantest face in the world, was standing on the threshold.
“I am Uncle Peter,” he said in the gayest of voices. “Is anybody at home?”
Poor Nan dashed away her tears. The stranger—this delightful uncle of the little girls—even he was to see her in disgrace and in tears. Augusta spoke at once.
“I am Augusta Duncan,” she said. “I am no relation of yours, but I do hope you will take me for a niece too. Aunt Jessie will be so sorry to miss you! But she will be back again in an hour or two.”
“And this little girl?” said Uncle Peter. He glanced with the kindest of expressions in his eyes at Nan. “She is a little bit troubled about something.”
“Nan darling, do cheer up now,” said Augusta; “do, darling—do.”