"I'm very sorry about that, Nursey dear, indeed I am. I couldn't have believed Vulcan could be so stupid as to end it all that way. He just got in a fright when he saw you coming in. And I thought you would have been so delighted with the fun. And Gran'ma will get you a new gown and a new cap when I tell her all about it."
Nurse took no notice of her protests.
"Both of you drenched to the skin! Let me feel your things! Every stitch on you sopping with wet! I'll have to get a warm bath ready for you, and put you in bed. And it's well if I can let you up to see your gran'mama at tea-time."
"Oh, Nurse, and I did so want to show her the things I worked for her! She wouldn't be angry; not if I told her myself. I know it would make her laugh—"
"'Deed, and you sha'n't tell her a word of it, Miss Terry. If she was asleep and didn't hear the scrimmage, we'll just leave her in peace about it."
"Oh, is it as bad as that?" said Terry. "So bad that I am not to tell Gran'ma?"
"It is as bad as bad—as that it couldn't be badder!" cried Nurse Nancy. "My gown and cap ruinated, my nursery spattered with mud, the back stairs like a street with clay an' rain, yourselves drenched an' drownded, an' your clothes spoiled. And into the bargain," added Nancy, with a quaver in her voice, "my spectacles broken into smash, an' I without e'er another pair to see my way about the house with!"
"Your spectacles!" cried Terry, now at last stricken with remorse. "Oh, Nursey, do you really mean that your spectacles are broken?"
Nurse Nancy answered by holding up an empty rim from which all trace of glasses had departed.
Then Terry said no more, but crept meekly into her little bed, burrowed into the pillows, and wept.