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ou, Nancy?” It was Ma

om Rosa’s room. I’m going to spend a whole evening reading.” The woman, who was more than a maid yet less than a relative, laid her white hand upon Nancy’s arm. “You will never regret having a fondness for reading,” she said seriously. “There is nothing better for a young girl than a good book.” “Oh, I’ve always loved to read,” replied164 N

The Meridian Sun

ancy, flushing under the compliment, “but I’m afraid I like it too much. There are so many other things to do, you know.” “Of course, there are other things to do,” admitted Margot, sort of leading Nancy into her room while she talked, “but I do believe in lots of reading. I can’t get Rosalind to read anything but the most absurd stuff,” her voice was full of regret at this point. “Can you imagine her reading boys’ books? And detective stories?” “Oh, yes,” defended Nancy, “I know lot

s of girls who do that. And boys’ books are good reading, sometimes.” She feared each new sentence from Margot would be a question about the intruder, and hardly knew what she herself was saying. “But you see, my dear, it’s this way with Rosa. Let’s sit down. I’ve been wanting a few minutes’ talk with you.” Nancy pulled out a comfortable chair into which the portly Margot deposited herself. A low boudoir chair, the sort with the lovely square boxy arms, suited Nancy best and she placed herself into that. 165 “Rosalind is still a darling baby,” went on Margot. “Because her own

uestion, and the

dear mother had to leave her when Rosalind was so young, I suppose I am a little too easy with the child, but you couldn’t understand how very hard it is for me to be severe when I remember that poor dear mother.” Margot was surely genuine in her

sympathy, and as she talked Nancy felt that she could understand. So that must be why Rosa had always, or almost always, conquered Margot, in spite of her usual talk to the contrary. “She’s not half as rebellious as she pretends t

sight of her

t to protect Rosa, if possible, from Orilla’s secret influence. Yet, this would be hard to understand, and Nancy knew that it would be particularly hard for Rosa to understand. “Well,” she sighed to herself finally, as the last faint echo of that almost silent step had died away down the long hardwood hall, “we’ll see what comes of it. But I didn’t know what else to

Nights Like Bonita

told you anything of this girl, Orilla?” “No, that is, nothing much,” truthfully answered Nancy. “Mother has told me about Orilla’s disappointment in having t

o leave Uncle Frederic’s home,” she added, thoughtfully. “Well,” sighed the trusted woman, getting166 up and preparing to leave, “I don’t mean to ask you to spy on your cousin, but I should be glad if you will do what you can to keep her away from that girl.” “I certainly intend to do that,” declared Nancy, hardly recognizing her own voice. “That’s right, dear, and you won’t be sorry. This is sure to be a trying summer, with Mr. and Mrs. Fred in Europe, and I’m so glad th

und, she was so fond of her. But the child just thought she was seeking favors.” Margot, with this confidence and her apparent love for Rosa, had suddenly taken a new hold on Nancy’s affections. After all, it is a woman a girl needs, Nancy was determining, and to her at that very moment—Margot was the wom

Two Best Friends

  • ike! The cape lay on the chair. It was a beautiful cape, but now instead of being merely beautiful to Nancy’s critical eye, it was the symbol of something to be dreaded, to be ca
  • reful about, and to hold as secret! Just as she turned to enter the room which was now hers, Nancy pull
  • ed up sharply at the sound of another step. “Is that y