"What is it, Miss Nan?" asked Dorothy, sidling up to her in a coaxing manner. "I am only an old servant, but it was me that put Miss Dulce in her father's arms,--'the pretty lamb,' as he called her, and she with a skin like a lily. If there is trouble, you would not keep it from her old nurse, surely?" "No, indeed, Dorothy: we want to tell you," returned Nan touched by this appeal; and then she quietly recapitulated the main points that concerned their difficulties,--their mother's loss, their future poverty, the necessity for leaving Glen Cottage and settling down at the Friary. "We shall all have to work," finished Nan, with prudent vagueness, not daring to intrust their plan to Dorothy: "the cottage is small, and, of course, we can only keep one servant." "I dare say I shall be able to manage if you will help me a little," returned Dorothy, drying her old eyes with the corner of her apron. "Dear, dear! to think of such an affliction coming upon my mistress and the dear young ladies! It is like an earthquake or a flood, or something sudden and unexpected,--Lord deliver us! And to think of my speaking crossly to you Miss Nan, and you with all this worry on your mind!" "We will not think of that," returned Nan, soothingly. "Susan's quarter will be up shortly, and we must get her away as soon as possible. My great fear is that the work may be too much for you, poor Dorothy; and that--that--we may have to keep you waiting sometimes for your wages," she added, rather hesitatingly fearing to offend Dorothy's touchy temper, and yet determined to put the whole matter clearly before her. "I don't think we need talk about that," returned Dorothy, with dignity. "I have not saved up my wages for nineteen years without having a nest-egg laid up for rainy days. Wages,--when I mention the word, Miss Nan," went on Dorothy, waxing somewhat irate, "it will be time enough to enter upon that subject. I haven't deserved such a speech; no, that I haven't," went on Dorothy, with a sob. "Wages, indeed!" "Now, nursey, you shan't be cross with Nan," cried Dulce, throwing her arms round the old woman; for, in spite of her eighteen years, she was still Dorothy's special charge. "She's quite right; it may be an unpleasant subject, but we will not have you working for us for nothing." "Very well, Miss Dulce," returned Dorothy, in a choked voice preparing to withdraw; but Nan caught hold of the hard work-worn hand, and held her fast. "Oh, Dorothy, you would not add to our trouble now, when we are so terribly unhappy! I never meant to hurt your feelings by what I said. If you will only go to the Friary and help us to make the dear mother comfortable, I, for one, will be deeply grateful." "And you will not talk of wages?" asked Dorothy, mollified by Nan's sweet, pleading tones.