“Mamsie is never fit for anything when that old ogre has been,” broke in Dulce, impatiently. “He always comes and tells her some nightmare tale or other to prevent her sleeping. Now we shall not have the new gowns we set our hearts on, Nan.”
“Oh, never mind the gowns,” returned Nan, rather wearily.
What did it matter if they had to wear their old ones when Dick would not be there to see them? And Dorothy, who was contemplating her favorite nursling with the privileged tenderness of an old servant, chimed in with the utmost cheerfulness:
“It does not matter what she wears; does it, Miss Nan? She 45 looks just as nice in an old gown as a new one; that is what I say of all my young ladies; dress does not matter a bit to them.”
“How long are you all going to stand chattering with Dorothy?” interrupted Phillis, in her clear decided voice. “Mother will wonder what conspiracy we are hatching, and why we leave her so long alone.” And then Dorothy took up her candlestick, grumbling a little, as she often did, over Miss Phillis’s masterful ways, and the girls went laughingly into their mother’s presence.
Though it was summer-time, Mrs. Challoner’s easy-chair was drawn up in front of the rug, and she sat wrapped in her white shawl, with her eyes fixed on the pretty painted fire-screen that hid the blackness of the coals. She did not turn her head or move as her daughters entered; indeed, so motionless was her attitude that Dulce thought she was asleep, and went on tiptoe round her chair to steal a kiss. But Nan, who had caught sight of her mother’s face, put her quickly aside.
“Don’t, Dulce; mother is not well. What is the matter, mammie, darling?” kneeling down and bringing her bright face on a level with her mother’s. She would have taken her into her vigorous young arms, but Mrs. Challoner almost pushed her away.
“Hush, children! Do be quiet, Nan; I cannot talk to you. I cannot answer questions to-night.” And then she shivered, and drew her shawl closer round her, and put away Nan’s caressing hands, and looked at them all with a face that seemed to have grown pinched and old all at once, and eyes full of misery.
“Mammie, you must speak to us,” returned Nan, not a whit daunted by this rebuff, but horribly frightened all the time. “Of course, Dorothy told us that Mr. Trinder has been here, and of course we know that it is some trouble about money.” Then, at the mention of Mr. Trinder’s name, Mrs. Challoner shivered again.
Nan waited a moment for an answer: but, as none came, she went on in coaxing voice: