"Oh, Mary, you have made yourself quite ugly!" she cried, "and I had been thinking how I would show Uncle Bert my pretty nurse."
"Oh, Ruby, you must not!" cried Golden, in terror. "Promise me you will not."
"Will not—what?" asked the little one, surprised.
"Will not show me to Mr. Chesleigh, nor tell him that you think I am pretty," said Golden, in alarm.
"Very well, I won't," said the little one, disappointed, "but I am very sorry, for I am sure Uncle Bertie would be glad to know that I have a good and pretty nurse. He used to laugh at the ugly ones, and he said their faces were so horrid it was not strange they were bad tempered."
"There is another thing I want you to promise me, please, darling," said Golden, who was on the best of terms with her little charge.
"What is it, Mary?" inquired the child.
"When your uncle comes to sit and talk with you, Ruby, you must let me run away and stay until he leaves you."
"Why should you do that?" asked Ruby.
"I have some sewing to do," replied Golden, evasively.