tanding on the very tips of her toes, she could reach neither bell
nor knocker. She rapped as hard as she could with her soft little
knuckles, but they made no more noise on the great door than a bird's
beak would have done; and then she tried some little kicks, but no one
came.

She felt very lonely and miserable with the black night all round her,
and it seemed to make it worse to think of her brothers and sisters
enjoying themselves so much at Mr Chorley's. How sorry they would be
for Nan if they knew! And then she felt so sorry for herself, that she
was obliged to sit down on the stone steps and cry. She was hungry, as
well as frightened and cold, for she had been much too excited to eat
anything at tea-time, and now it was past ten o'clock. Oh to be in her
little white bed at home! She cuddled herself up as close to the door
as she could, and laid her cheek against it, shrinking back from the
darkness which seemed to press against her, and presently, how it came
to pass she never know, her head began to nod and she went fast to
sleep.

The next thing she remembered was hearing a voice say, quite close to
her: "Why, it's little Nan! How did the child get here?" And then
someone took her up, and carried her with strong arms into a warm room
with bright lights. And then she found herself on cousin Annie's knee,
and saw people standing round asking eager questions and looking very
much amused. And no wonder, for Nan was a very funny-looking little
bundle indeed, in spite of her woe-begone appearance; her round face was
streaked with mud, and tears, and scarlet paint, and the odd little wig
had fallen over one eye in a waggish manner. When the hood and shawl
were taken off, a more disconsolate little Jack-in-the-box could hardly
be imagined, for what with hunger, fatigue, and the comfort of feeling
cousin Annie's kind arms round her, Nan's tears fell fast and she could
not stop them.

They could just make out between her sobs something about "Sophy" and
"sleeping," but that was all; and at last cousin Annie said, "Never
mind, darling, you shall tell me all about it by and by." And then poor
little weary Nan was carried upstairs, and washed, and put to bed, and
cousin Annie brought her some supper, and sat by her until she dropped
gently off to sleep.

It turned out afterwards that Fraulein in the excitement of the moment
had forgotten to deliver the message about Nan, so that none expected
her at the Vi