Hester received this letter at breakfast time. She read it through gravely—not once, but twice. Annie's gay voice, her peals of merry laughter, and her gay and irresistibly funny speeches were diverting the attention of Molly, and to a certain extent of Nan; but Nan knew the handwriting on the envelope. She was also well aware of the fact that the birthday, when she would have the glorious privilege of counting nine years as her own, was close at hand. When Hester, therefore, folded up the letter, she called to her from the other end of the table.

"Toss it over, Hetty," she said. "I know it's from the Dad; let us hear what he says."

"Yes, it is from father," replied Hester in a grave voice.

"May not I read what he says?"

"The beginning part is business."

"Well, I'll skip the business; you can point out where the fun begins. What are you looking so mysterious and solemn about? Why may not I read the letter?"

Nan looked almost cross; Hester was disturbed. She showed this by slipping the letter into her pocket. This fact aroused Annie's curiosity, who looked at her with sparkling eyes full of mischief.

"You are a cross-patch," exclaimed Nan in her most spoilt tone. "I never knew such a thing. Is not a father's letter meant for one child as well as for another?"

"No, Nan, dear, not on this occasion," said Hester in a firm tone. "Now, try not to be silly; finish your breakfast, and I will speak to you afterwards."

Nan pouted.

"When is Sir John coming back, Hester?" inquired Molly.

"In about a week," replied Hester.

"A week," shouted Nan suddenly recovering her good humour. "Hurrah! my birthday will be in a week. My dear, good girls all of you, I am getting elderly as fast as possible. I'll be nine in a week; isn't that scrumptious? Did Dad say anything about my birthday in that mysterious letter, Hetty?"

"He is coming home for your birthday," replied Hester.

"Good, kind, considerate old gentleman," responded Nan in her most flippant voice. "Did he say anything more about that great and auspicious event, Hetty?"

"He said a great deal more about it; in fact, the largest part of his letter was about it; but I'm not going to talk it over now. I propose that we all go to Nora's room after breakfast and discuss the letter. There is a good deal to discuss, and it is very exciting," continued Hester, a flush of brilliant colour coming into her cheeks.

The news that there was a good deal to discuss of an exciting character restored even Nan's good humour. Breakfast was hurried over, and Annie Forest and Nan rushed off to Nora's room to prepare her for the fact that she was soon expected to hold a levée, and that the subject under discussion was likely to be of a very rousing character.

Molly lingered behind in the breakfast-room; she looked anxiously at Hester, who avoided her eyes. Hester did not wish to say anything to make Molly unhappy, and she knew that her father's allusion to the possible sale of the Towers would fill the poor little girl's heart with the most acute misery.

Making a great effort, therefore, to fight down a nameless apprehension on her own account, for what important business could be keeping Sir John so long away from home, she said in a cheerful voice—

"Now, Molly, we're not going to croak, nor spend the day imagining all kinds of unpleasant things. Father has written me a long letter, and there are some things in it which I don't quite like; but I am not going to talk them over at present. All the end of the letter is taken up with Nan's birthday, and that is the matter we have to discuss just now. Come along now to the library, and let's get it over."

Nora was still lying flat on her back; but all pain had long left her, and she was practically quite well.

The subject of the letter was therefore discussed with intense animation by the five eager girls.

Unlimited money, any amount of presents, and carte blanche how to spend the birthday in the most agreeable way was surely enough to turn the brains of most people.

Many and wild were the plans which Nan proposed.

They would start for a picnic at six in the morning. They would order ices from Nortonbury to arrive by special messenger at some impossible place at an unearthly hour. They would have bonfires on the top of every hill within a reasonable distance. Although it was not Christmas time, they would end up with the largest Christmas tree ever seen, and it should stand in the centre of the lawn, and every poor child for miles round should be invited to see it and to share the wonderful presents which should hang from every branch and twig.

Nan's cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright while she made these suggestions; but, after all, it was Annie's proposal in the end which carried the day.

"Let's have the picnic by all means," she said; "and let all who will go to it. If Nan wishes to be charitable, and to think of others rather than herself, let her do so; and let all the school children be taken in waggons and waggonettes to Friar's Wood or any other beautiful place in the neighbourhood, and let Nan herself give them presents before they go home. All that, of course, will be very delightful; although, of course, neither Nora nor I can be present."

"What do you mean by your not being present?" asked Molly, her brown eyes growing dark with anger. "I suppose if anyone is to stay with Nora, it ought to be me."

"No, it oughtn't," said Nora. "I wish for Annie; she's more fun."

"And I can't do without you, Molly, darling," interrupted Hester. "You always are my right hand when anything important is going on; and then you know all the school children by name, which, frankly, I do not."

"Well, now, do hear me out," said Annie; "I have not half done. What I say is this, that as Sir John Thornton is so generous, and as he wishes everyone in the house to be happy on the day of Nan's birthday, I think something should be done to make it up to Nora and me. Now, why shouldn't we have a real glorious time in the evening? You have a billiard-room in this house, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Can't we have a ball there?"

"What are we to do with the table?" said Hester.

"Oh," exclaimed Nora, her eyes sparkling, "we have such a heavenly ball-room at the Towers; a great enormous room, never used and full of rubbish, which can easily be turned out."

"Is there a gallery to that room?" interrupted Annie.

"Yes, at one end."

"Then the whole thing is complete," continued Annie. "We'll have a children's fancy ball in the evening, and Nora shall look on from the gallery. Nora shall be, in a sort of way, princess of the ceremonies. We'll make her up the sweetest dress, and everyone shall come up and talk to her; and if presents are to be given away at the end, she shall give them. What do you say, girls? Could anything be more perfectly lovely than a children's fancy ball in the old ball-room at the Towers? Oh, I hope it will be a moonlight night, and the whole place will look like fairyland!"

This suggestion was so daring and brilliant that it carried Nora away on a storm of enthusiasm immediately. Nan clapped her hands and screamed with glee; and even the more sober Hester and Molly could find no objections to raise. The ball-room was certainly at the Towers; it contained a gallery where the musicians could be, and where, if necessary, Nora might rest; it contained what seemed to the children like unlimited space, and if to unlimited space unlimited money could be added, what brilliant results must be produced!

"If I consent to this," said Hester—"and I think my consent is essential—it must be on condition that not a single Lorrimer is put to even a shilling's worth of expense. The ball must be Nan's ball; the Lorrimers will most kindly give her a room to hold it in, all the rest will be our affair. Do you clearly understand, Molly? Do you, Nora?"

"Oh, I understand fast enough," said Nora quickly.

"Yes, I understand," replied Molly in a graver tone.

"Do you agree?"

"Yes," answered Molly.

"Well, your consent being obtained," continued Hester, "I will go with you to the Towers this morning, Molly, and look at the ball-room, and see Mrs. Lorrimer on the subject."

"The worst of it is," continued Annie, "that we have such a very short time to prepare—only one week to make all our fancy dresses and to see to all the other arrangements!"

"Fancy dresses!" exclaimed Nora from her sofa. "What am I to wear?"

"You are to be dressed as Queen of the Fairies. You shall lie on a bed of rose-leaves, and have gossamer, cloudy sort of drapery all around you. Never fear, Nora, you will look lovely—leave it to me."

Nora's eyes sparkled.

"Annie, you're a darling!" she exclaimed, with enthusiasm.

"And what character am I to be, Annie?" cried Nan, pouting her full lips. "I'm not jealous, and I don't mind Nora being Queen of the Fairies; but please remember that it's my party, and I am really the queen of the day."

"So you are, you sweet!" exclaimed Annie. "Don't think for a moment that I'll forget you; but you must really give me a little time to think the characters over. Suppose I consider everything carefully and jot down a few ideas, and suppose we discuss them to-night; and then to-morrow we can go to Nortonbury to buy the materials for the dresses."

"But we can't possibly make our own dresses," exclaimed Hester.

"Oh, yes, we can; they'll be twice as original. If you can get in a couple of good workwomen to help us, the dresses can easily be made at home," exclaimed Annie, her eyes sparkling.

"Hester!" cried Molly, suddenly springing to her feet, "if we are to go to the Towers this morning, don't you think we had better start?"

Hester stood up.

"The day is such a delightful one," she said, "that I think we will just walk across the fields. I'll run up to my room and fetch my hat and gloves, and bring yours down at the same time, Molly."

Five minutes later the two girls had set off. It was now holiday time at the Towers, and almost immediately on their arrival they were greeted by a whole bevy of children, who rushed up the avenue in a state of breathless excitement.

"What do you think, Molly?" exclaimed Kitty, stammering almost in her eagerness. "Oh, you'll never guess, for it is so uncommon and unexpected—father and mother both went to London this morning?"

"Both—to London?" exclaimed Molly, stepping back a pace or two, while a look of surprise, and even consternation, spread itself over her round, fair face.

"Dear me, yes!" exclaimed Nell.

"And they were awfully jolly about it," exclaimed Boris; "and mother has promised to bring me a rabbit."

"And me a dove," screamed Kitty.

"And perhaps I'm to have a shaggy pony all to myself," exclaimed Nell; "but it's only perhaps. It's perhaps, too, with you, Boris, and you, Kitty; you oughtn't to forget that."

"Oh, bother perhapses!" exclaimed Kitty. "I know I'm to have my rabbit; he's to have lop-ears and long fur, and he's to be snow-white, if possible. I described him fully to mother last night when she came to tuck me up. I kept pulling my eyes open to stay awake for the purpose."

"And I told mother that I wished for a ring-dove," said Boris. "I want a ring-dove awfully, for there's an empty cage in the attic that will just fit it. Oh, I do hope, I do hope, that it will come!"

He looked almost sad as he spoke and glanced at Nell, who was not looking at him.

"Nell, come here," exclaimed Molly suddenly. "Hester, you can explain to Boris and Kitty what you have come about, and they can take you round and show you the ball-room. Come along, Nell, I want to talk to you."

Molly put her arm round Nell and drew her down a side walk.

"Now, Nell," she said, "you must explain all this to me. Why has mother gone to London? I am not so much surprised about father; father does go sometimes, but mother. Why has she gone? Answer me, Nell; tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything," said Nell. "Father was out all day yesterday, and mother looked very sad. She didn't cry or anything of that sort, of course; but she looked sad, and then father came home about tea-time quite jolly and in high spirits, and he said something to mother and they went into the study together; and then father shouted to Jane Macalister to come to them, and Jane went; and presently we were told that father and mother were to go to London this morning, and that they'd be away perhaps a week, perhaps ten days. Jane told us that, and then mother came into the room and she said the same thing, and she looked kind of pretence-merry you know, and said that perhaps she'd bring us back things. It was then Kitty asked for the rabbit, and Boris for the dove, and Guy wanted Star-Land and Harry some new carpenter's tools, and mother promised everything with a perhaps tacked on; but I don't think anyone noticed the perhaps except me, and all the time she kept smiling with her lips, but her eyes were so sad."

"And you asked for a pony, Nell?"

Nell coloured crimson.

"No, I didn't," she replied; "but mother turned to me and put her arm round me and said, 'If the others get their things you shall have the wish of your heart, a shaggy pony.'"

"And what did you say to that, Nell?"

"I whispered back to her that I didn't want her to spend her money; and then she kissed me very hard."

"And did father promise things?"

"He said that the house should be refurnished, and that we should go to the sea, and he would buy new horses and a lovely carriage for mother. Father was lively; I never saw him so gay."

"And they went off this morning?"

"Yes, very early; I wasn't even dressed, but I jumped out of bed and ran to the window and saw them driving away."

"And that's all you know, Nell?" exclaimed Molly.

"Yes, that's all I know."

"Now, tell me what you think."

"What I think?" replied Nell. "I—" she hesitated. "No, I'd rather not."

"You must, Nell, you must. Remember I'm your own cosy old Moll; remember I understand you, and I'm the eldest girl and mother's right hand. There's something that you think very, very hard, Nell, and you have wise thoughts, though you are so young. Tell me what they are; tell me at once."

Molly knelt on the grass as she spoke and put her arms round Nell, who leant up against her and laid her head on her shoulder.

"Now, Nell, speak."

Nell rubbed her cheek against Molly's, as if she found great comfort in the contact.

"I think that mother is unhappy," she said, "and that, that we won't get the presents."

"Come along and let's find Jane Macalister," exclaimed Molly suddenly. She caught Nell's hand and rushed with her towards the house.

When Jane was not teaching, she was, generally, cooking, or mending clothes, or putting the store-room in order. Jane never wasted a moment of her time, and she was extremely fond of taking up all the loose threads of work which other people had dropped. When the girls, therefore, now found themselves in the great central hall, and Nell's clear, high voice shouted for Jane, the single word, "store-room," seemed to echo back to them from somewhere in the clouds.

The store-room, where the largest supply of preserves and dried goods was kept, was high up in the old tower—higher up even than the schoolroom.

"You stay downstairs, Nell," exclaimed Molly; "I wish to see Jane alone." She reached the spiral stairs, which she began to mount quickly. By-and-by with panting breath she arrived at the store-room. The door was open, but there was no Jane.

"Where are you, Jane Macalister?" called Molly.

"Linen press," called Jane from still higher up.

Molly mounted once more. Jane, with an old pillow-case pinned round her head and a huge apron on, was on her knees sorting feathers.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Molly.

"Don't speak to me for a moment, Molly; I'm in a perfect rage," exclaimed Jane. "There stand out of the draught, child, or you'll get all this fluff into your hair. I have just discovered that the feathers put into these last pillows were not properly cured, so I've been obliged to take them all out, and I'm sprinkling them with lime. Faugh, what a mess the place is in. This is what comes of taking in an incompetent kitchen-maid like Susan Hicks. She did not half do the work of sorting and curing these feathers. Now, what is it you want, Molly? You can see for yourself that I'm up to my eyes in work."

"I can," said Molly. "Well, I'll wait for a moment."

"You'll wait for a moment!" screamed Jane. "I tell you I shan't have done for hours. There are at least a dozen pillows to be unpicked and their contents well sorted, and sprinkled with lime. I brought up a sandwich in my pocket, and don't mean to come downstairs until the job is done, and well done, too. Nothing frets me like half-finished work, and these pillows would get on my brain at night if I didn't see to them."

Molly slowly crossed the linen-press room, and stood by the window.

"There, child," exclaimed Jane, "you're exactly in my light. If you have anything to say, say it and have done with it. By the way, how is Nora? I hope they're not spoiling her at the Grange."

"Nora is getting on nicely, thank you."

"It was a lucky chance for her," continued Jane, "that she happened to be near the Grange when she got hurt. Hester Thornton is sure to give her every comfort. Molly, you're exactly in my light."

Molly moved to one side of the window.

Jane Macalister went on vigorously with her work, the fluff from the feathers rose in the air, the smell of the lime was pungent.

"Faugh," continued Jane; "here's a lump for you. Susan Hicks, you'd better keep out of my way for the present. 'Pon my word! look at this quill, why I could make a pen with it; disgraceful, perfectly disgraceful. Molly, I wish you wouldn't fidget. What in the world do you want to say to me?"

"I want to ask you this," said Molly. "Why has mother gone to London?"

Jane bent low over her work, some fluff got into her nose and made her sneeze.

"Look here, Molly," she exclaimed; "your mother went to London with your father because she wished to, I suppose."

"Yes, but why did she wish it?"

"That I am not prepared to tell you, my dear."

Molly stamped her foot.

"I wish you'd look at me, Jane," she said, "and leave off fiddling with those horrid, detestable feathers. When—when one is quite wretched, what do feathers matter? I have come home to find father and mother gone."

"And me over the feathers," interrupted Jane. "Well, I suppose people want pillows, whether they're happy or miserable. I never knew before, at least, that they didn't."

"Jane," said Molly, "you're hiding something from me."

Jane Macalister suddenly rose to her feet. She came up to Molly and took her hand. "I didn't know you'd come over this morning, my love," she said. "I have been told certain things, and what I'm told in confidence cart-ropes won't drag from me. Your father and mother have gone to London because there is a hope, just a hope, that terrible trouble may be averted. It's all uncertainty, and it's all suspense at present, Molly; and those who are cowards will bear it badly, and those who are brave will bear it well. That's all I can tell you, my love; and now let me get back to the feathers, or I won't have them done by night."

CHAPTER XIII.

"Oh, what a darling Molly you are," exclaimed all the other Lorrimers in a breath. She found herself whirled in their midst to the old ball-room, and the rest of the morning was spent in eager and animated discussion.

This magnificent old room was apart from the rest of the house. It was entered by a covered way from one of the drawing-rooms; but this entrance had long been closed, and the room itself—since the family purse had become so low—was only made use of as a play-room for the children in wet weather, and as a place for all kinds of lumber and rubbish. Hester and Molly were neither of them artistic in their tastes or ideas, but they were intensely practical in all they said and did. Molly proposed that the room should be first cleared out and thoroughly cleaned, and that early on the following morning Annie Forest should come and see it. The room was lit by seven tall Gothic windows, and had a high arched roof of oak. Round the windows the thick ivy which only years can produce hung in heavy masses. Some of this must be cleared away, and some light draperies must relieve the dark tone of the walls. The gallery was pronounced sufficiently sound for the band to stand there, and Annie's original idea of placing Nora in the gallery as a sort of queen of the ceremonies was superseded by a better one. She was to have a special throne made for her at the other end of the ball-room. There she would not only see perfectly, but would also be seen. It seemed simple enough to have a ball in such a lovely room, and Hester arranged to send some men over that very afternoon to begin the work of clearing out the rubbish.

"We don't wish to take possession of the Towers," she said. "We only want the loan of the ball-room, and of this delightful lawn just beyond, where we can put up a marquee or tent."

"No, no," exclaimed Molly, "it must be all or nothing. You know how big our entrance hall is, Hester, and those great half-empty drawing rooms. The whole ground floor is to be at your disposal. If we do it at all, let it be a real merry-making. It will be nice to have a merry-making once again at the Towers."

Molly sighed as she spoke. Hester glanced at her, and the remark in her father's letter flashed through her brain.

While the others were planning and talking at least twenty words to the dozen, Nell was looking solemnly up at the tall windows with an expression of ecstacy on her small face. Boris came up presently and pulled her hand.

"What are you in a brown study for?" he asked.

"Oh, Boris," she exclaimed, flashing round on him; "it is more a white dream than a brown study. Fancy this room all lit with Chinese lanterns and the moon outside, and us sitting up until twelve o'clock, and music, Boris, and everybody dancing. The story books will have come true—oh, it will be too lovely."

"I'm thinking of the supper," said Boris. "I expect I'll get awful peckish sitting up so late. I hope there'll be jellies—I love jellies; don't you, Nell?"

"Yes; I heard Hester say there was to be a real band. I wonder if they'll play any of the airs out of Faust. I do so love the Soldier's Chorus, don't you?"

"Yes; I'll march to it when I'm big. Nell, do you think I'll be allowed to have as many cakes as I wish, and paté de foie gras? I tasted it once and 'twas ripping."

"I like it, too, rather," said Nell in a contemplative voice. "I mean to be a fairy in the dance, though, and I'll have wings. Wings! how I wish they'd bear me upward."

"Oh, do come out," exclaimed Boris. "I want to show you my dove's cage; it was ever so musty, but I've cleaned it out, and it's as sweet as a nut now."

The children left the room, and a few moments later Hester and Molly returned to the Grange.

That evening Annie Forest had a very comprehensive scheme drawn out with regard to the proposed characters which the different members of the party were to adopt. Molly would make an ideal shepherdess. Hester was to be in white, and was to represent St Agnes. Nora was to be Queen of the Fairies, and Nan little Bo-Peep. Annie had not yet decided on her own character, but was strongly inclined to act the part of a gipsy. Annie further suggested that it would save a great deal of trouble and have a decidedly pretty effect if all the girls under twelve years of age were dressed as white fairies, with wings, and all the boys of the same age as brownies. She considered that so many fairies and brownies would have a very picturesque effect, and would help to throw up the gay bizarre colours of the older girls and boys.

Her suggestion was immediately adopted, and Hester and Molly sat down then and there to write invitations.

Besides the Lorrimers, about a hundred and forty other children were invited, and the girls expected that quite sixty or seventy of these would take the parts of fairies and brownies.

"You don't know how relieved the mothers will be," exclaimed Annie. "When people have no imagination it is the most difficult thing in the world to think of a dress for a fancy ball which has not been adopted dozens and dozens of times before. Please keep the notes open for a moment, Hester, for I mean to slip into each of them some very simple directions with regard to the dress, which will insure our having a certain amount of uniformity."

Annie was in her element now, and even Molly was constrained to admire the absolute genius which she showed in all matters which required tact and brisk, quick work. Annie could write fluently, and her little slips of paper, with their simple and plain directions, were soon ready, and Molly and Hester set to work making copies of them as fast as they could. The letters of invitation were all posted before they went to bed that night. Nora shut her eyes to dream of herself as queen of the fairies, and Molly and Hester sat down to write letters which required a little more thought than the invitations which had just been got through. Hester wrote—

Hester finished her letter, folded it up, and addressed it. She then glanced towards Molly, whose fair head was bent low over the sheet of paper which she was filling. She wrote—

Molly's letter was also directed and stamped, and when these important epistles had been taken to the post, the whole household went to bed.

That is, with one exception.

Annie Forest, notwithstanding her gaiety and the high spirits she had been in all day, had a care upon her mind.

It was three weeks now since the day when Mrs. Martin had pawned Mrs. Willis's beautiful ring for the small sum of thirty shillings. That thirty shillings had purchased cambric and embroidery and lace, and even a few knots of coloured ribbon, to make three charming frocks for Nora Lorrimer, but alack and alas, though the frocks lay neatly folded up in their drawer waiting to be worn on the first festive occasion, poor Annie had not the faintest idea how to get back the ring. That morning's post had certainly been an important one. It had not only brought a letter for Hester which had nearly turned the heads of two households, but had brought Annie two epistles of a profoundly and painfully interesting character. One was from her father, telling her that he must postpone sending her her usual birthday present for a time, and the other was from Mrs. Willis herself. Mrs. Willis wrote from Paris. She was staying there for a short time on her way home, and asked Annie to send her the diamond ring without delay by registered post. The ring was of a very antique pattern and she wished to have it copied for a wedding present for one of her pupils.

Annie had glanced her eyes quickly over the contents of this disquieting letter at breakfast time, but it was only now, in the solitude of her own room, that she ventured to take it out and study it. What was she to do? How could she possibly get the ring out of pawn without any money to redeem it? She dared not confide this trouble to Mrs. Martin. She thought and thought until her head ached and her bright eyes looked dull.

What kind of man was the pawnbroker? Why were pawnbrokers called uncles? Was it because they were really good-natured and helpful? She wondered if it might be possible for her to induce the pawnbroker to let her have the ring out on condition that she paid for it by instalments? If he really was quite a good-natured order of uncle, he might consent to such an arrangement. Annie felt, however, that it would be useless to get Mrs. Martin to make such terms with him.

"She was very proud about him," thought Annie. "She did not wish to go to him at all. I'm afraid he's disagreeable. I'm afraid he's not the sort of man who would help a girl out of a difficulty. What shall I do? The ring must go to-morrow if Mrs. Willis is to do anything with it before she leaves Paris. It ought to have gone to-day, but to-morrow is the very last, the very last chance. We are all going to Nortonbury to-morrow to buy the materials for the dresses. Oh, suppose I go and see the pawnbroker and tell him of my difficulty, and assure him that I will honestly pay him back that money if he will only let me have the ring again. I have four shillings still in my purse, and father's sovereign will be certain to come sooner or later. I could show uncle father's letter, he would then see that I was not humbugging. I expect he would like me to call him uncle, as it seems to be the name. Yes, I really think I will go, but I must on no account whatever let Mrs. Martin or Molly or Hester know anything about this. I should rather like to confide in Nora, for she would think it no end of a lark; but if I did, the poor darling would know that I had got into all this trouble on account of her dresses, and that would simply never do. Yes, there seems nothing for it but to visit my uncle, the pawnbroker."

Annie presently laid her head on her pillow and went to sleep.

When she awoke in the morning she still thought an appeal to the pawnbroker the only available solution of her difficulty. The girls were much excited about their gay shopping, and the landau was ordered to be round at an early hour to convey Hester, Nan, Molly, and Annie to Nortonbury. Nora had to resign herself to the company of her nurse, but her thoughts were so full of pleasurable anticipations that under the circumstances she did not mind the loss of her favourite Annie.

Before starting, Annie ran quickly round to Mrs. Martin's rooms.

"Here I am," she exclaimed in her bright way. "I have just rushed up to say good morning to you before we start. You have heard of all the fun that we are going to have, haven't you, nursey?"

"Folly, I call it," said nurse. "Throwing away good money on fallals and wings and clouds. Miss Nan was up here last night so late that I thought I'd never get her to bed, bamboozling me with stories of all the children round the country being turned into fairies, which you know, Miss Annie, is sheer nonsense and impossible to do, and Miss Nora, who has narrowly escaped her death, is to lie on rose leaves with clouds under her. The folly of it is beyond belief, even if it can be done, which I sincerely hope it can't. In old days people took their pleasures properly. Children were kept in the nursery and were sent early to bed, and young ladies were presented to her Gracious Majesty the Queen, and then went to balls in good stiff silks and no wings nor clouds about 'em. They met the gentlemen they were to marry at the balls, and then there was a proper wedding breakfast and all the rest, as it should be. I don't hold with the scarum days of the present."

"Look here, nursey," exclaimed Annie, "the fairies will look lovely, and I'll show you myself how innocent and simple the clouds are, and as to the wings, I'll make a pair for you if you like."

"No, thank you, Miss Annie, I hope I know what's due to myself."

"Well, I must run away," continued Annie. "You know we're just off to Nortonbury."

"So I hear, miss."

"It was to Nortonbury you went when you sold my ring; you were a dear to do it."

"I wouldn't do it for no one else, miss, and I don't know even now how I came to demean myself by such a job."

"Was," said Annie in an almost trembling voice, "was the uncle very disagreeable, then?"

"Miss Forest, such a word oughtn't to pass your lips."

"Why so, nurse? I cannot imagine why you dislike such helpful people."

"We won't argue the point," said nurse; "the subject is not suited to the young."

Annie fidgeted. Nan's voice was heard down stairs shouting for her.

"Nurse," she said in sudden desperation, "I want to get the ring back; tell me the name of the uncle."

A look of relief came over Mrs. Martin's face.

"I'd be glad if you had that valuable ring again," she said. "Have you got the money for it? It would be thirty-two shillings; thirty shillings for the loan and two shillings interest."

"Annie, we're all waiting," shouted Nan.

"Oh, do tell me the address," said Annie.

"You had better let me get the ring out of pawn for you, miss."

"No, no, I must get it to-day."

"Have you got the money, Miss Forest?"

"What would be the use of going if I hadn't?" prevaricated Annie.

"Well, but you're not going to take my young ladies to a pawnbroker's?"

"No, I promise not to take any of them; I'll go alone, quite alone. You may trust me, really. Oh, nursey, nursey, I'm in such trouble."

Again the bright lovely eyes and sweet voice did their work.

Mrs. Martin fumbled for her keys, and taking a small piece of blue paper out of her work-box, put it into Annie's hand.

"There," she said. "I'm sorry I ever made or meddled with this thing. Mind you don't take one of my young ladies with you."

"I promise," said Annie. She thrust the paper into her pocket and rushed from the room.

CHAPTER XIV.

Hester had ordered a very tempting lunch, and Nan was attacking her nicely roasted chicken and bread sauce with appetite, when Annie, snatching up a sandwich, sprang suddenly to her feet.

"I'm not hungry," she exclaimed, "and as there is so much to be done, I won't waste time eating. Mrs. Willis wrote to me yesterday and asked me to send her a small parcel. It contains a ring which she lent me, and as it ought to be registered, I will go to the post-office now and get it done while you are at lunch."

"But you really must eat something first," exclaimed Hester. "You will be ill if you don't; the carriage is to call for us in a few minutes, and you may just as well drive to the post-office in it; you would do it in half the time."

"But I would rather walk," replied Annie. "I am perfectly sick of driving. I see by Nan's face that lunch will be quite an affair of half an hour, and I'll be back long before then."

She left the shop before Hester had time to remonstrate, and the next moment found herself in the street.

"Now for it," she exclaimed, a little catch of excitement in her breath. She took out her purse, opened it, and removing the slip of blue paper, looked at the words written on it. The address rather surprised her. It was a fancy goods shop, and was kept by a woman of the name of Myrtle.