e seaside.

It happened at length that Mr. Lord saw Jessica one evening, when she
had come to spend an hour in Grove Lane. After her departure, he
asked Nancy what was the matter with the girl, and Nancy explained the
situation.

'Well, why not take her with you, when you go away?'

'I didn't know that I was going away, father. Nothing has been said of
it.'

'It's your own business. I leave you to make what plans you like.'

Nancy reflected.

'_You_ ought to have a change,' she said considerately. 'It would do you
good. Suppose we all go to Teignmouth? I should think that would suit
you.'

'Why Teignmouth?'

'I enjoyed it last year. And the lodgings were comfortable. We could
have the same, from the first week in August.'

'How do you know?'

'I wrote the other day, and asked,' Nancy replied with a smile.

But Mr. Lord declined to leave home. Mary Woodruff did her best to
persuade him, until he angrily imposed silence. In a day or two he said
to Nancy:

'If you wish to go to Teignmouth, take Jessica and her mother. People
mustn't die for want of a five-pound note. Make your arrangements, and
let me know what money you'll need.'

'It's very kind of you, father.'

Mr. Lord turned away. His daughter noticed that he walked feebly, and
she felt a moment's compunction.

'Father--you are not so well to-day.'

Without looking round, he replied that he would be well enough if left
alone; and Nancy did not venture to say more.

A few days later, she called in De Crespigny Park after dinnertime. Mrs.
Peachey and Fanny were at Brighton; Beatrice had preferred to stay in
London, being very busy with her great project. Whilst she talked of
it with Nancy, Peachey and Luckworth Crewe came in together. There was
sprightly conversation, in which the host, obviously glad of his wife's
absence, took a moderate part. Presently, Miss. Lord and he found
themselves gossiping alone; the other two had moved aside, and, as a
look informed Nancy, were deep in confidential dialogue.

'What do you think of that business?' she asked her companion in an
undertone.

'I shouldn't wonder if it answers,' said the young man, speaking as
usual, with a soft, amiable voice. 'Our friend is helping, and he
generally knows what he's about.'

Crewe remained only for half-an-hour; on shaking hands with him, Nancy
made known that she was going to the seaside next Monday for a few
weeks, and the man of business answered only with 'I hope