"I want to be dirty like those children in the garden." "And a nice state your mother would be in!" cried the amazed nurse. "Father wouldn't," Nancy thought. "Father wouldn't mind." There came at last the wonderful day when her father penetrated into the nursery. He arrived furtively, very much, it appeared, ashamed of himself and exceedingly shy of the nurse. He did not remain very long. He said very little; a funny picture he had made with his blue face, his black shiny hair, his fat little legs, and his anxious, rather stupid eyes. He sat rather awkwardly in a chair, with Nancy on his knee; he wrung his hair for things to say. The nurse left them for a moment alone together, and then Nancy whispered: "Daddy, let's go into the gardens together, you and me; just us--no silly old nurse--one mornin'." (She found the little "g" still a difficulty.) "Would you like that?" he whispered back. "I don't know I'd be much good in a garden." "Oh, you'll be all right," she asserted with confidence. "I want to dig." She'd made up her mind then to that. As Hannibal determined to cross the Alps, as Napoleon set his feet towards Moscow, so did Nancy Ross resolve that she would, in the company of her father, dig in the gardens. She stroked her father's hand, rubbed her head upon his sleeve; exactly as she would have caressed, had she been another little girl, the damaged features of her old rag doll. She was beginning, however, for the first time in her life, to love some one other than herself. He came, then, quite often to the nursery. He would slip in, stay a moment or two, and slip out again. He brought her presents and sweets which made her ill. And always in the presence of Mrs. Munty they appeared as strangers. The day came when Nancy achieved her desire--they had their great adventure. IV A fine summer morning came, and with it, in a bowler hat, at the nursery door, the hour being about eleven, Mr. Munty Boss. "I'll take Nancy this morning, nurse," he said, with a strange, choking little "cluck" in his throat. Now, the nurse, although, as I've said, of a shining and superficial appearance, was no fool. She had watched the development of the intrigue; her attitude to the master of the house was composed of pity, patronage, and a rather motherly interest. She did not see how her mistress could avoid her attitude: it was precisely the attitude that she would herself have adopted in that position, but, nevertheless, she was sorry for the man. "So out of it as he is!" Her maternal feelings were uppermost now. "It's nice of the child," she thought, "and him so ugly." "Of course, sir," she said. "We shall be back in about an hour." He attempted an easy indifference, was conscious that he failed, and blushed. He was aware that his wife was out. He carried off his prize. The gardens were very full on this lovely summer morning, but Nancy, without any embarrassment or confusion, took charge of the proceedings.