She still held my hand, and I own that the foolish feeling crossed me that I was glad that she should know my hand was as soft as hers, but as she spoke to me in that beseeching voice all sullenness left me. “There is very little that I would not do for your sake, Mrs. Morton, when you have been so good to me. Please do not say another word about it. Mr. Morton was right; I have been utterly in the wrong; I feel that now. Next Thursday I will bring down the children into the drawing-room.” She thanked me so warmly that she made me feel still more ashamed of myself; it seemed such a wonderful thing that my mistress should stoop to entreat where she could by right command, but she was very tolerant of a girl’s waywardness. She did not leave me even then, but changed the subject. She sat down and talked to me for a few minutes about myself and Aunt Agatha. I had not been home yet, and she wanted me to fix some afternoon when Mrs. Garnett or Travers could take my place. “We must not let you get too dull, Merle,” she said, gently. “Hannah is a good girl, but she cannot be a companion to you in any sense of the word.” And perhaps in that she was right. I woke the following Thursday with a sense of uneasiness oppressing me, so largely do our small fears magnify themselves when indulged. As the afternoon approached I grew quite pale with apprehension, and Hannah, with unspoken sympathy, but she had wonderful tact for a girl, only hinted at the matter in a roundabout way. I had dressed Reggie in his turquoise blue velvet, and was fastening my clean frilled apron over my black gown, when Hannah said quietly, “Well, it is no wonder master likes to show people what sort of nurse he has got. I don’t think anyone could look so nice in a cap and apron as you do, Miss Fenton. It is just as though you were making believe to be a servant like me, and it would not do anyhow.” I smiled a little at Hannah’s homely compliment, but I confessed it pleased me and gave me courage. I felt still more like myself when my boy put his dimpled arms round my neck, and hid his dear face on my shoulder. I could not persuade him to loosen his hold until his mother spoke to him, and there was Joyce holding tightly to my gown all the time. The room was so full that it almost made me giddy. It was good of Mrs. Morton to rise from her seat and meet me, but all her coaxing speeches would not make Reggie do more than raise his head from my shoulder. He sat in my arms like a baby prince, beating off everyone with his little hands, and refusing even to go to his father.