When her uncle finally overcame his reluctance and sent for her, she entered his room quietly and stood looking at him with an honest concern that was in her favor.  She was always honest, he reflected.  There was nothing of the hypocrite or the coward in those wary gray-green eyes that always met one’s glance without flinching.

The change in his appearance shocked her.  His eyes were hollow, his tall form looked meager and shrunken.  He was growing to be an old man.  She said awkwardly: 

“I’m real sorry you been so sick.”  And she made no attempt to apologize for her share in the quarrel that had led to his seizure.  She ignored it altogether, and for this he was grateful.

“Thank you.  I am getting along nicely,” he said civilly.  And with a slightly impatient gesture he dismissed all further mention of illness.  He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, the better to collect his thoughts.  He wished to make his wishes perfectly clear to her.  But she surprised him by saying quietly: 

“I been thinking things over while you was sick, and I come to the conclusion you was right.  I got to have more education.  There’s things I just got to know—­how to talk nice, and what to wear, and what fork you’d ought to eat with.  Forks and things drive me real wild.”

“I had thought, at first, of sending you to some particularly fine boarding-school—­” he began, but Nancy interrupted him.

“If I was six instead o’ sixteen, you might do it.  As ’t is, I wouldn’t learn nothin’ except to hate the girls that’d be turnin’ up their noses at me.  No.  I don’t want to go to boardin’-school.  I’ve saw music-teachers that come to folks’ houses to give lessons, and I been thinkin’, why can’t you get me a school-teacher that’ll teach me right at home!”

“As I was saying when interrupted,”—­he looked at her reprovingly—­“I had at first thought of sending you to some finishing school.  I gave up that idea almost at once.  I agree with you that it is best you should be taught at home.  In fact, I have already engaged the lady who will be your companion as well as your teacher.”

“I don’t know as I’m crazy about a lady companion as a steady job,” said Nancy, doubtfully.  She feared to lose her new liberty, to forego the amazing delight of living by herself, so to speak.  “But now you’ve done it, I sure hope you’ve picked out somebody young.  If I got to have a lady companion, I want she should be young.”

“Mr. Vandervelde attended to the matter for me,” said Mr. Champneys, in a tone of finality.  “He is sure that the lady in question is exactly the person I wish.  Mrs. MacGregor is an Englishwoman, the widow of a naval officer.  She is in reduced circumstances, but of irreproachable connections.  She has the accomplishments of a lady of her class, and her companionship should be an inestimable blessing to you.  You will be governed by her authority.  She will be here to-morrow.”