nk her such--she
must surely be getting spoilt and worldly. Her daughter implied fears
of this kind, yet who could read her letters and think so?

Nuttie was fortunately too much in awe of the Canoness to write all the
pertnesses that tingled at her fingers' ends, and she sent a proper and
fairly meek letter, intimating, however, that she was only too happy to
remain at Micklethwayte.

It was two or three days more before she heard again.

'My Own Dear Child--They have let me write at last, and I can say how
much I like to think of your nestling up to dear Aunt Ursel, and how
glad I am to find that she was well enough to enjoy you. It is almost
like being there to hear of you, and the only thing that grieves me is
that your father was very much vexed at your setting off in that sudden
way, and at my being so foolish about it. His eyes have been very bad,
and he missed me sadly while I was laid up. We are neither of us very
strong, and we think--if Aunt Ursel and Mary can keep you for a little
longer--it will be better for you to stay on with them, as it might be
as dreary for you as it was last winter, especially as the Rectory folk
will soon be going into residence. I will write to them about it and
persuade them to take something for your board, so as to make it easy
for them. And then you can have a fire in your room; you must not
leave it off now you are used to it. My dear, I wish you would write a
little apology to your father. I ought not to conceal that he is
really very angry, and I think it would be well if you expressed some
regret, or if you cannot truthfully do that, asked his pardon for your
impetuosity; for you know he cannot be expected to realise all that
dear Aunt Ursel is to us. You cannot think how kind your Aunt Jane has
been to me; I did not think she could have been so tender. This is the
first letter I ever had to write to you, my own dear child. I miss you
every moment, but after all it is better you should be away till your
father has overlooked this hurried expedition of yours. I am sure he
would if you wrote him a real nice letter, telling how you were really
frightened, and that it was not a mere excuse. Pray do, and then you
can come back to your loving little mother.

'A. E.'

'As if I would or could,' quoth Nuttie to herself. 'Apologise to him
indeed, for loving the aunt who toiled for us when he deserted us. Poor
little mother, she ca