"Go, my good woman, by all means," Honor answered, "we will be down directly; don't wait for us."
Potts, who rather suspected an odor of over-done victuals, bounded down to the kitchen, leaving Honor in Nanette's care. Nanette's room was next to Honor's, and had been used as a sort of spare room up to the present time. It was now intensely comfortable and neat, without anything costly or expensive which could make poor Nanette feel out of her element.
"Is Mr. Rayne not the very impersonation of goodness itself, Nanny dear?" said Honor. She was standing with her back to the door, watching her old nurse undoing their valises, when she uttered this exclamation.
"Come now, Honor, spare a fellow when he's right behind you," said the good-natured voice of the person thus eulogized. Honor started around, looking very pretty in her confusion.
"I thought 'listeners never heard well of themselves,'" said she in a pout, "but this time it seems to be reversed."
"And you won't take it back for all that," said he, "the oldest of us likes a little praise now and then, you may as well let me keep it."
"Oh yes indeed, Mr. Rayne, you may have that little bit, for you know how good you are and how kind to me."
"Well, that will do after tea, but just now we will give our attention to something more substantial; come Honor—come Nanette."
"Don't wait for me sir," the old nurse answered respectfully, "I'll find
Mrs. Potts in the kitchen and we'll sip our tea together there."
Henry Rayne looked quickly at Honor and detected the slightest shadow of a disappointment flitting across her face, this decided him.