you meant to stay over night," Nancy replied.

"Wal, I guess ye said so, an' here's the street. It's only a lane, an'
that little bit of a house where the cat sits on the step is the one
where yer aunt lives. It's kind er cosy, ain't it?"

Nancy did not notice Sue's question. She was looking at the little
house, the tiny fruit-trees in the yard, and the white cat that sat upon
the upper step, washing its face in the sun.

The place looked very poor and small after the Dainty mansion and the
trim stone cottage. But small though it was, it looked far better than
the old house in the city where Steve Ferris had taken her, when he had
stolen her from her home and friends.

CHAPTER XII

THE NECKLACE

Nancy could not help making friends with the white cat, and it purred
with delight at being noticed. Sue slipped a key into the lock, and
opened the door. They entered the tiny hall, and the white cat followed
them, as they walked towards a little room at the rear.

"Is that you, Sue? Did ye see her? Did she come?" called a thin, tired
voice.

Sue opened the door of the sitting-room and Nancy ran in, all sympathy
now for the aunt who was really ill.

Mrs. Ferris lay upon an old carpet-covered lounge, and she raised
herself upon her elbow to look at Nancy as she stood before her.

"Set down on that little stool, Nancy," she said, "so I kin look at ye
better. My! But ye look well an' strong 'side er what ye did when I
last seen ye, whilst I've grown sick an' tired. But seein' ye'll do me
good, an' ter-morrer I'll talk with ye. They's some things I _must_ say,
but I'll rest ter-night, an' tell ye ter-morrer."

Nancy looked the fear that she felt, and Mrs. Ferris hastened to
reassure her.

"Ye're safe here, Nancy," she said. "There ain't nobody here ter harm
ye. Like 'nough Sue remembered ter tell ye 'bout yer Uncle Steve."

Nancy nodded, and was about to speak when Mrs. Ferris continued:

"I don't want ter speak hard 'bout him now, an' I don't hev ter. Ye was
with us long 'nough ter know what yer Uncle Steve was like, but I will
tell ye one thing: we didn't hev no luck after ye left us. Steve kept ye
dancin' at the theatre, an' they paid well fer dancin', too. Then ye was
sick, an' them two ladies come an' took yer home. After that we went
from one place ter another, Steve workin' when he felt like it, an' not
workin' when he _didn't_ feel like it, which was most er the time. Since
he's went, I've worked