rthquake or a flood, or
something sudden and unexpected,--Lord deliver us! And to think of my
speaking crossly to you Miss Nan, and you with all this worry on your
mind!"

"We will not think of that," returned Nan, soothingly. "Susan's
quarter will be up shortly, and we must get her away as soon as
possible. My great fear is that the work may be too much for you, poor
Dorothy; and that--that--we may have to keep you waiting sometimes for
your wages," she added, rather hesitatingly fearing to offend
Dorothy's touchy temper, and yet determined to put the whole matter
clearly before her.

"I don't think we need talk about that," returned Dorothy, with
dignity. "I have not saved up my wages for nineteen years without
having a nest-egg laid up for rainy days. Wages,--when I mention the
word, Miss Nan," went on Dorothy, waxing somewhat irate, "it will be
time enough to enter upon that subject. I haven't deserved such a
speech; no, that I haven't," went on Dorothy, with a sob. "Wages,
indeed!"

"Now, nursey, you shan't be cross with Nan," cried Dulce, throwing her
arms round the old woman; for, in spite of her eighteen years, she was
still Dorothy's special charge. "She's quite right; it may be an
unpleasant subject, but we will not have you working for us for
nothing."

"Very well, Miss Dulce," returned Dorothy, in a choked voice preparing
to withdraw; but Nan caught hold of the hard work-worn hand, and held
her fast.

"Oh, Dorothy, you would not add to our trouble now, when we are so
terribly unhappy! I never meant to hurt your feelings by what I said.
If you will only go to the Friary and help us to make the dear mother
comfortable, I, for one, will be deeply grateful."

"And you will not talk of wages?" asked Dorothy, mollified by Nan's
sweet, pleading tones.

"Not until we can afford to do so," returned Nan, hastily, feeling
that this was a safe compromise, and that they should be eked out
somehow. And then, the stewed pigeons being regarded as a failure,
Dorothy consented to remove the supper tray, and the long day was
declared at an end.

CHAPTER X.

THE FRIARY.

Oldfield was rather mystified by the Challoners' movements. There were
absolutely three afternoons during which Nan and her sisters were
invisible. There was a tennis-party at the Paines' on one of these
days, but at the last minute they had excused themselves. Nan's
prettily-worded note was declared very vague and unsatisfactory, and
o