Nancy, whose pursuit of ‘culture’ followed a less exhausting track, regarded the girl with a little envy and some compassion. Esteeming herself in every respect Jessica’s superior, she could not help a slight condescension in the tone she used to her; yet their friendship had much sincerity on both sides, and each was the other’s only confidante. As soon as the mathematical difficulty could be set aside, Nancy began to speak of her private troubles. ‘The Prophet was here last night,’ she said, with a girlish grimace. ‘He’s beginning again. I can see it coming. I shall have to snub him awfully next time.’ ‘Oh, what a worry he is!’ ‘Yes, but there’s something worse. I suspected that the Pasha knew of it; now I feel sure he’s encouraging him.’ By this oriental style Nancy signified her father. The Prophet was her father’s partner in business, Mr. Samuel Bennett Barmby. ‘I feel sure now that they talked it over when the Prophet was taken into partnership. I was thrown in as a “consideration.”’ ‘But how could your father possibly think--?’ ‘It’s hard to say what he _does_ think about me. I’m afraid I shall have to have a talk with him. If so, it will be a long talk, and a very serious talk. But he isn’t well just now, and I must put it off.’ ‘He isn’t well?’ ‘A touch of gout, he says. Two days last week he didn’t go to business, and his temper was _that ‘orrible_!’ Nancy had a habit of facetiously quoting vulgarities; this from an acquaintance of theirs who often supplied them with mirth. ‘I suppose the gout does make one bad-tempered.’ ‘Has he been coming often?--Mr. Barmby, I mean.’ ‘Pretty well. I think I must turn matchmaker, and get him married to some one. It oughtn’t to be difficult. The Prophet “has points.”’ ‘I dare say some people would think him handsome,’ assented Miss Morgan, nibbling a finger which showed an ink-stain, and laughing shyly. ‘And his powers of conversation!--Don’t you know any one that would do for him?’ They jested on this theme until Nancy chose to become serious again. ‘Have you any lessons to-morrow?’ ‘No. Thank goodness every one is going to see the procession, or the decorations, or the illuminations, and all the rest of the nonsense,’ Jessica replied. ‘I shall have a good long day of work; except that I’ve promised to go in the afternoon, and have tea with the little girls at Champion Hill. I wish you’d come too; they’d be delighted to see you, and there’ll be nobody except the governess.’ Nancy looked up in doubt. ‘Are you sure? Won’t the dowager be at home?’ ‘She hasn’t left her room for three weeks.’ They exchanged a look of some special significance. ‘Then I suppose,’ said Nancy, with a peculiar smile, ‘that’s why Mr Tarrant has been calling?’ ‘Has he? How do you know?’ Again they looked at each other, and Nancy laughed.