Therefore after a week of steady rain and black depression which did not seem more profound in Nancy than in anyone else, silly little Nancy took a bold step.  Putting on her overshoes and mackintosh late one afternoon, she slipped out of the house and hastened down the avenue.  On the road, she hailed an empty ’riksha returning from some suburban home and gave Mme. Fontaine’s address in Tokyo.

Nancy was in search of sympathy and of someone who would tell her she had done right when she knew she had done wrong.

Mme. Fontaine was in and would be delighted to see Miss Brown, so she was informed at the widow’s front door, and Nancy, a little frightened, now that the deed was done, was ushered into the beautiful drawing-room.

“Why, you sweet child, this is a great pleasure,” exclaimed that lady herself, entering at the same moment by another door.  “Where are your friends?  Are you alone?” she added looking around for the others.

“Oh, yes,” answered Nancy, embarrassed and agitated.

“Not even the austere old lady who chaperones you?” asked the other drawing the young girl down beside her on the couch and looking into the blue eyes which suddenly welled up with tears and overflowed,

“Why, my dear, are you unhappy?  What is the matter?  Tell me all about it,” ejaculated Mme. Fontaine, unpinning Nancy’s hat and drawing the curly head down on her shoulder.

So it happened that Nancy Brown unburdened herself to the sympathetic Widow of Shanghai, and gave an entirely biased and favorable-to-herself account of the incident in the garden.

Mme. Fontaine sat silent for a while after the story was finished, and Nancy wondered if the charming new friend had heard what she had been saying.

“Do you think Miss Campbell would consent to let you make a visit, Nancy?” she asked presently, calling her Nainsi, as if it were a French name.

Nancy drooped her long lashes.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

Mme. Fontaine gave one of her inscrutable Mona Lisa smiles and rose from the couch.

“We will try her and see.  Does she know you were out walking?”

“No,” answered Nancy struggling to keep back her tears.

“Does anyone in the house know?”

She shook her head.

The widow sat down at a carved desk inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and wrote the following note: 

“My dear Miss Campbell: 

“I trust you will not think I have been unpardonably presumptuous in keeping one of your girls over night with me.  She had evidently set out for a long walk and chance brought us together.  The child was wet and tired and I have kept her for tea.  As the rain is still pouring, she has consented to remain over night with your permission which I cannot but feel sure will be granted under the circumstances.  With the very kindest regards for you and your household, I am,