The parcel was quickly opened, and found to contain a fine large photograph of Mr. Lambert's last picture (the one for which Nelly and Crummie had sat) in a beautiful oak frame.
Nelly was delighted. "Oh, how pleased granny will be!" she exclaimed. "She loves pictures, and she was so disappointed at not seeing this one. Thank you very much, Mr. Lambert. I shall keep it all my life. I hope Miss Lambert is well? Is she going to stay in school?"
Nelly asked these questions not only from a sense of civility, but because she felt a real interest in Nelly Lambert, who had sent her the first nice dress she ever had. She was surprised to see Mr. Lambert's face darken at the mention of his daughter.
"She is well," said he, shortly. "She is not in school at present. Good-by, Nelly. Be a good girl, work hard, and tell the truth, and God will prosper you. Give my regards to granny, and tell her I wish her joy of having a grand-daughter who is a comfort and a credit to her."
He shook Nelly by the hand, bowed to Mrs. Kirkland, and left the store.
"I wonder what ailed Mr. Lambert," said Nelly. "He always used to be so merry."
"I suspect he is in a great deal of trouble about his daughter," said an elderly lady who had been admiring Nelly's present. "She has been sent away from school under rather bad circumstances—expelled, in fact. They have kept it still, out of regard to her father; but, of course, girls will talk."
"Oh, how sorry I am!" exclaimed Nelly. "What was it for?"
"I don't understand it, exactly. Three or four of the girls engaged in a plot against the French teacher, of which Nelly was the ringleader, and they nearly drove the poor woman out of her senses. Finally, they dressed up a ghost and scared poor Mademoiselle into a fit and a fever, which is likely enough to cost her her life. My grand-daughter tells me that Nelly has always been at the beginning and end of all the mischief in school, and would never learn a lesson, if she could help it. She said Miss Birch had endless patience with her; but this last was a drop too much."
"I should think so," remarked Miss Powell. "I do not know any sort of mischief which deserves more severe punishment than frightening timid and nervous people."