Nan sighed. How she longed to get away herself. But of course that was impossible, with this old troublesome ankle bothering her. If she could not step across the room, how could she hope to get into the street? O dear! When would it be well? Miss Blake was tripping about upstairs and Nan could hear her singing as she went. Delia was up there, too. When Delia walked the chandelier shook. "She follows Miss Blake about so, it's perfectly disgusting," thought the girl resentfully. "Now, I wonder what she wants in my room. I don't thank either of them for going poking about my things when I'm not there, so now! Well, I'm glad she's coming down, at any rate." The governess appeared in the library a moment later, but Nan could scarcely see her face, she was so overladen with wraps and rugs. She turned the whole assortment into a chair, and before the girl could ask a question, she found herself being bundled up and made ready for the street. "What are you doing?" she gasped out at length. "You know I can't walk." "Nobody asked you, sir!" quoted the governess, gayly. "Then what are you putting on my things for?" "Ready, Delia?" sang out Miss Blake, cheerfully. Nan heard the front door open. Then heavy steps came clumping along the hall, and in another moment she was being borne down the outer steps and set comfortably in a carriage by the good old Irish coachman, Mike, from the livery stable round the corner. "Are you comfortable?" asked Miss Blake, with her foot on the step. "Have you everything you need?" Nan nodded, and the governess, taking her place beside her, motioned to Michael, who climbed to his seat on the box, and off they drove. "There is Delia at the window! Let's wave to her!" cried Miss Blake, with one of her happy girl-hearted laughs. It seemed to Nan that she had never seen the Park look as beautiful as it did to-day. To be sure, most of the trees were bare, but the naked branches stood out delicate and clear against the blue of the violet-clouded sky and by the lake-shore the pollard willows were gray and misty, and a few russet maple trees still held their leaves against the sweeping wind. They saw numberless wheels spinning along the smooth paths, and though the governess said nothing, Nan knew she had given up this chance of a ride for her sake. Impulsively she put out her hand and laid it on Miss Blake's. "If it weren't for me you'd be on your wheel now, wouldn't you?" she asked. "Yes," came the answer, prompt as an echo. "But as it is I'm not on my wheel, and it so happens that I'm doing something that gives me much more pleasure." "If I had a bike it would make me simply furious to have to give up a ride such a day as this," said Nan. "Then isn't it rather fortunate you haven't one?" asked Miss Blake, saucily. "But seriously, Nan, why haven't you one?" Nan set her jaw. "My father can't afford it," she said proudly.