Girls of the True Blue. Meade L. T.

little suitable dress – black, of course, and made the same way as Miss Kitty’s dresses are made. Here, put it on, miss, or you will be late for breakfast.”

      All poor Nan’s misery returned to her at these words. She felt as if she were most unjustly treated; she could scarcely bear her own feelings. The pretty frock in which she looked so nice and fresh, and in which she had once again the appearance of a lady, did not appeal to her. She shrugged her shoulders discontentedly, and was only comforted when nurse insisted on her wearing a white pinafore which nearly covered the frock.

      Just as she was leaving her bedroom she turned and spoke.

      “If you will not let me wear my own frock – and I bought all my own mourning for my own mother – may I at least keep it?”

      “Oh yes, poor little girl!” said nurse, much touched by these words. “I will put it in the bottom of the little trunk you brought with you. You might give it to a poor girl some day, and she might make it fit her; it is not fit for any one to wear at present.”

      Nan was fain to be comforted with this sort of half-promise of nurse’s, and entered the school-room, where she stood, looking somewhat forlorn, by the fire. But this mood was not to be of long duration, for Nora and Kitty came bounding in. They had made up their minds: the time of gloom was past; they were going to be their own riotous, gay, merry, rebellious, fidgety, almost unruly little selves once again to-day.

      Miss Roy was almost as merry as her pupils. At breakfast they screamed with laughter; animals, of course, were the subjects of conversation. The virtues of Jack, the vices of Poll the parrot, the exquisite beauties of Lord and Lady and the bad manners of their mother, the good manners of the bull-terrier – all were discussed with animation. Each little point was noted. Nan listened, her eyes growing wider and wider.

      “What is the matter? Why do you not talk?” said Kitty at last.

      “I am so astonished,” answered Nan.

      “What about?”

      “Why, you speak, you and Honora, as if – as if there were no girls and boys in the world.”

      “Oh! I suppose there are,” answered Honora. “I am afraid there are,” she continued after a pause. “They are great worries, are they not?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Compared to animals, I mean. Who would compare them?”

      “I don’t know,” said Nan again.

      “You will when you have been here a little longer. – Oh, Miss Roy, Kitty has given Jack to Nan. He is her very own bull-puppy. She has got to train him; and, please, if he does anything naughty you are to blame her.”

      “Well, now, children,” said Miss Roy, “put on your hats and coats and get ready for school. Nan, my dear, Mrs. Richmond has not arranged for your school until next week, so will you please stay in the schoolroom until I come back to you? I will hear you a few lessons then, and we can go out for a walk together.”

      “And may she take Jack for a little airing?” asked Kitty.

      “Yes, if she has a leash – not otherwise.”

      “Oh! I can lend her a leash,” said Kitty. “You will find it hanging up in the passage outside the schoolroom,” she added, turning to the little girl; “and there is a collar as well. Now we must be off.”

      In a moment they dashed away, Miss Roy following them. From intense excitement and vigorous conversation and loud noise and hearty laughs the schoolroom was reduced to absolute silence. Nan felt a sense of relief. She crept into her bedroom, took Sophia Maria from between the sheets, clasped her in her arms, and sitting down by the fire, called to Jack to come and make friends.

      Now, Jack was of the most sociable nature, but it is, alas! true that he was possessed with a petted little dog’s invariable infirmity – that of intense jealousy. He had taken to Nan; he had liked the position on her shoulder, and had quite slobbered with bliss when she had kissed him on his little cheek the night before. But Nan was now hugging a hideous object in her arms, and Jack did not see why such a thing should be permitted. He was wary, however, and did not intend to give himself away. He knew by experience that in small puppies mischievousness was reproved by two-footed creatures who had the control of them; but in all the world what could be more delicious than the sort of mischief which meant tearing and rending, using his teeth and puppy paws to some purpose? That horrid thing in Nan’s arms could be rent and torn and demolished and worried, and what a time of enjoyment he would have while doing it! Accordingly he raised his dancing eyes to Nan’s face, and jumped backwards and forwards, inviting her as bewitchingly as puppy could to a game of romps. She played with him for a little, trying to catch him, which he avoided, for it was quite beyond the dignity of puppydom to repose in the same lap with the hideous doll dressed in crape. The dog was biding his time. Nan looked again at Maria. She still wore her inane smile. Nan kissed her. She was so cold; she did not seem to take any interest.

      “She is not so nice as Jack,” thought the little girl, “but of course I like her best. Did not mother give her to me, and have not I over and over and over again cried with her in my arms? She comforted me, then, but not as little Jack does.”

      Presently Miss Roy came in, bustling and fresh from the outside world.

      “Now, get on your things, Nan,” she said. “I will take you for a walk first of all, as it may rain later on; it is a beautiful morning, and we will go for a walk in Hyde Park. You had better leave little Jack at home; dogs are not allowed in Hyde Park except on a leash.”

      Nan got up joyfully. Sophia Maria was put comfortably sitting in the arm-chair in which the little girl had herself reposed, and a few minutes later Nan and her governess went out.

      Now was Jack’s opportunity. The schoolroom was silent; the mother bull-terrier was sound asleep, with the other pups nestling up to her. Jack, bent on mischief, was practically alone. The Persian cat turned her back upon him with the most lofty disdain in her attitude; the parrot winked at him out of her wicked eye, and said, “Here we are again!” another favourite expression of hers. Jack cared little; with a dexterous leap he secured Sophia Maria, and what immediately followed may be left to the imagination of the readers.

      When Nan returned from her walk there were morsels of crape on the floor, and tiny pieces of coarse black cashmere, and a naked doll, which, rent and torn and injured, lay in a distant corner; but her clothes – alas! where were they? Jack waggled up to his little mistress, coaxing and canoodling, and saying by a thousand pretty motions, “You must forgive me if it was wrong. I am sorry, but I would do it again if I had the chance; only please forgive me.” And then Nan uttered a sudden shriek and flew towards the battered remains of her doll, which she clasped in her arms.

      “Oh, Miss Roy – oh, Miss Roy!” screamed the little girl.

      “What is it, my dear?” said the astonished governess.

      “Oh, see what Jack has done!”

      “Naughty Jack!” said Miss Roy. “But really, Nan, it was a very ugly doll; if you wish to dress it again I will find some pieces for you some half-holiday. Put it in the cupboard now and forget about it. Come to me in a few minutes for your lessons.”

      CHAPTER VII. – THE FALL

      Nan had gone about for the remainder of the day with a lump in her throat. It was not the least like the heavy weight of sorrow which pressed on her yesterday – but nevertheless it was a curious and strange sensation. To all intents and purposes Sophia Maria no longer existed; that battered and torn and disreputable doll in the cupboard could not be the darling whom she had pressed to her heart and loved and worshipped during all the sorrowful days when her mother lay dead in the lodging-house in Bloomsbury.

      But although the lump was there, and the sorrow and the dismay there also, Nan’s day was one rush, one continued succession, of excitement; there was literally no time in Mrs. Richmond’s happy house for brooding or grieving.

      “I must try and forget Sophia Maria for the present,” thought the child; “there is such a lot to be done! But when I