"To Broadlands! You cannot mean it?"
"I am quite in earnest. My brother and his wife have given you a warm corner in their warm hearts, Nettie; your last year's visit established you as first favourite with them and the children, and I believe if I were to make my appearance alone, I should be sent back to fetch you. The people at Ferndene are having a large party of young guests, too. I believe almost the same who were there twelve months ago, so you will meet a host of old young acquaintances."
Mrs. Worsley was looking straight at Nettie as she spoke, and, lo! Across the girl's face stole a look of indescribable gladness, along with a rich rosy glow that spread from cheek to brow; a sort of dancing, happy light, the reflex of some deep-seated joy, brought to the innocent young heart by her friend's words.
Nettie turned away quickly and shyly, as if afraid that secret of hers should be read, and she could not have borne a significant look just then, much less a jesting word. That expression, however, set Mrs. Worsley thinking and wondering whether, amongst the guests at Ferndene, Cinderella might have met her prince. Truly the girl was very young in her ways and simple in her tastes, as innocent of flirting and coquetry as the most loving mother could desire her child to be. But time had not been standing still with Nettie any more than others; she would keep her nineteenth birthday during the visit to Broadlands.
[CHAPTER III.]
BREAKFAST was over, and Nettie was standing in Mrs. Worsley's bedroom, speechless and overwhelmed at the sight which met her view. Spread around her were the contents of one of those large boxes which she had assisted Sarah Jane to carry up-stairs on the preceding evening. There were braveries of all kinds suited to a girl like herself, and fit for wear in such a home as Broadlands. Nothing very costly, but all beautiful, dainty, and suggestive of refined taste and a sweet, pure-minded girl wearer.
It was not the first time that Mrs. Worsley had supplied deficiencies in Nettie's wardrobe, and the measures taken a year before would, she knew, still be near enough to go by. She shrewdly suspected that her request for the girl's company would be cheerfully acceded to if no demand were made on the mother's purse to furnish the needed outfit. Even that ten-pound note which had called forth such fervent gratitude, though nominally sent by her mother, had first been given to Mrs. Clifford by Mrs. Worsley for the purpose.
"She is rich, and has neither chick nor child. All her own relatives are richer still, so why should not Nettie be the better for having a wealthy sponsor?" said Mrs. Clifford to her eldest daughter. "Besides, by having nothing to buy for Nettie, I shall be able the better to supply your wants."
So Laura, too, had cause to rejoice, for she benefited indirectly by Mrs. Worsley's gifts, in having money spent upon her wardrobe, some of which must otherwise have gone for Nettie's.
Standing amidst a wealth of pretty things, Nettie said—"These are all far too handsome, and you are much too kind, aunty, darling. I cannot thank you as I ought. I feel that I shall be a grand sham myself amongst the dear friends at Broadlands—'a daw with borrowed feathers.'"