“Don’t, my dear lady,” said Nancy. “Or—yes, do, if it eases you. The dear little lassies will be all right to-morrow—won’t they, Mrs. Lovel?”
“I shall see them again, Nancy, if you mean that.”
“Yes, of course; but they’ll be heiresses and everything—won’t they?”
“Of course not. What do you mean?”
“I thought Master Phil had no chance now that the tankard is really lost and can never be found.”
“What do you know about the tankard?”
“Nothing. How could I? What less likely? Oh! look, ma’am; there’s a carriage driving through the forest, right over the green grass, as sure as I’m here. Now it’s stopping, and four people are getting out—a lady and three gentlemen; and they are coming here—right over to the cottage as straight as an arrow from a bow. Oh, mercy me! What do this mean?”
“Only some tourists, I expect. Nancy, don’t excite yourself.”
“No, ma’am, begging your pardon, they ain’t tourists. Here they’re all stepping into the porch. What do it mean? and we has nothing at all in the house for supper!”
A loud peal was now heard from the little bell. Nancy, flushed and agitated, went to open the door, and a moment later Mr. Baring, Mrs. Lovel, and Rupert Lovel and his son found themselves in the presence of the lady of the forest. Nancy, recognizing Mrs. Lovel and concluding that she had discovered all about the theft of the tankard, went and hid herself in her own bedroom, from where she did not descend, even though she several times fancied she heard her mistress ring for her.