She knew that lunch was always served promptly as the hands upon the dining-room clock pointed to the hour of one.

She was rather afraid of the burly butler, because he stood so very erect, and never, never smiled even when the jokes told at the table were very funny.  But the maid’s eyes often twinkled, and Nancy hoped that it would be the maid who would serve her.

She was surprised to find that lunching alone in the great dining-room was not very cheerful after all, and after a hasty meal, she slipped from her chair, refusing to taste any more of the dainties which the maid offered her.

“You’ve not had much lunch, Miss Nancy,” the girl said, “you might take an orange, and eat it away from the table if you like.”

Nancy took the big orange, and after much coaxing, pushed it into her pocket, and soon forgot that she had it.  It was only quarter-past one.  She looked again at the clock.  Yes, that was just what it said; quarter-past one, and Mollie and Flossie were still at lunch.  She remembered that they rarely came out to play in the afternoon before half-past two.  She wondered where she would rather spend the time.  At the cottage she could play with the kitten, get out the new game that Mrs. Dainty had given her, or read her newest book, but Dorothy’s books were up in the playroom of the stone house, and she was always free to read them.  No, she would not stay indoors.  She would go out and be ready to greet her playmates as soon as she saw them running down the avenue.  She put on her cloak and hat, and walked slowly through the hall, thus using up as much time as possible.  The house stood high, and from the doorway she could see the avenue.  There was no one yet in sight.

She strolled down the driveway, intending to wait at the great gate for her playmates to appear.

The gates were wide open, and as Nancy looked out, some one rushed past her.  The plainly dressed young woman turned to look at the little girl.

“Oh, Nancy!” she cried, and “Why, Sue!” cried Nancy.

“D’ye live in that el’gant place Nancy?  Why, it looks like er palace!”

“Mrs. Dainty lives there, and I’m there ’most all the time playing with Dorothy.  I live in that dear little stone cottage with Aunt Charlotte,” Nancy said, “but Sue, how happened you to be here?  Aren’t you working for the doctor?”

“Nancy, I come purpose ter see yer,” said the girl, bending to look into Nancy’s face; “I wondered if you’d remember me.”

“Oh, how could I forget you, Sue?  It was you who used to be kind to me when Uncle Steve was cross, and when I was sick you sent my little note to Aunt Charlotte so that she and Mrs. Dainty came for me.”

“I done what I could for yer, Nancy, an’ now I’ve come ter ax yer ter do somethin’ that I’m ’fraid ye won’t want ter do.”

Eagerly Nancy looked up into Sue’s honest face.

“I’d do anything for you, Sue, because you were good to me when no one else was kind.  You were working for Uncle Steve, and you were as afraid of him as I was, but you helped me, and you knew he’d be angry if he found it out.”