she had shaken
hands with Mrs. Nestor, whom she had met before once or twice. 'We have
been having a cake baking this morning, and I was just giving some
directions about a special kind of gingerbread we want to try.'

'I should apologise for coming in the morning,' said Mrs. Nestor, but
grandmamma assured her it was quite right to have chosen the morning.
'Helena and I go out in the afternoon whenever the weather is fine
enough, and I should have been sorry to miss you. Now, my little girl,
you may run off to Kezia. Say good-bye to Mrs. Nestor.'

I felt very disappointed, but I was accustomed to obey at once. But Mrs.
Nestor read the disappointment in my eyes: that was one of the nice
things about her. She was so 'understanding.'

She turned to grandmamma.

'One of my daughters is in the pony-carriage,' she said. 'Would you
allow Helena to go out to her? She would be pleased to see your garden,
I am sure.'

'Certainly,' said grandmamma. 'Put on your hat and jacket, Helena, and
ask Miss'--she had caught sight of the girl from the window and saw that
she was pretty big--'Miss Nestor to walk about with you a little.'

I flew off--too excited to feel at all timid about making friends by
myself.

'Call her Sharley,' said Mrs. Nestor, as I left the room. 'She would not
know herself by any other name.'

In a minute or two I was running down the garden-path. When I found
myself fairly out at the gate, and within a few steps of the girl, I
think a feeling of shyness _did_ come over me, though I did not myself
understand what it was. I hung back a little and began to wonder what I
should say. I had so seldom spoken to a child belonging to my own rank
in life. And I had not often spoken to any of the poorer children about,
as there happened to be none in the cottages near us, and grandmamma was
perhaps a little _too_ anxious about me, too afraid of my catching any
childish illness. She says herself that she thinks she was. But of
course I am now so strong and big that it makes it rather different.

I had not much time left in which to grow shy, however. As soon as the
girl saw that I was plainly coming towards her she sprang out of the
carriage.

'Has mother sent you to fetch me?' she said.

I looked at her. Now that she was out of the carriage and standing, I
could see that she was not as tall as grandmamma, or as her own mother,
and that her frock was a good way off the ground. And her hair was
hanging down her ba