The latter nodded, finger to lips. She was a handsome woman in her late thirties, tall and graceful, and with hair that was almost white. Her interest in the invalid at the Harrison house was as great as it was genuine. She was a familiar figure at the house down the street and spent many an afternoon with Miss Emma, telling her the news of the town or reading light literature as the latter's mood required.
At a loss to understand the look of happiness on the face of this good neighbor, Nan would have questioned her further but that Mrs. Jameson forestalled her.
"Come in and see your Aunt Emma for yourself," she said.
Mrs. Jameson of course knew Nan's chums, so that no introduction was necessary.
The girls followed the lady of the house into the big front room that was library and sitting room combined.
Miss Emma was propped up in a big easy chair, cushions beneath her, cushions behind her head, and cushions under her feet. She looked by no means as white and weary as the girls had feared to find her. On the contrary, her eyes were bright and there was an unusual tinge of color in her face.
Nan ran to her and flung an arm about the frail shoulders.
"Oh, Aunt Emma, I'm so thankful you are safe! When we heard you cry out from your room and knew that you were in the burning house alone we were horribly frightened!"
"I know!" Miss Emma stroked the fair head gently with a thin, blue-veined hand. "But I am all right now. So don't cry, dear. Yes, you are crying!" The thin hand went beneath Nan's chin and turned the girl's face up, revealing an April face upon which tears and smiles were intermingled.
"Here, take my handkerchief and stop that, child! There's nothing in the world to cry about!" Nan accepted the handkerchief and hugged her aunt again in thankfulness for her safety.