with this bad arm. Oh, how it does hurt me! I feel so sick and faint I
scarcely care what happens."

Pauline stretched out her uninjured arm and touched Nancy.

"What is it?" said Nancy. "Oh, dear! I'd forgotten. It's you, Paulie. How
is your arm, my little dear? Any better?"

"It hurts me very badly indeed; but never mind about that now. How am I
to get home?"

"I'll manage that. Betty, our dairymaid, is to throw gravel up at the
window at four o'clock. You shall have a cup of tea before you start, and
I will walk with you as far as the wicket-gate."

"Oh, thank you! But how am I to get into my room when I do arrive at The
Dales? I don't believe I shall be able to use this arm at all."

"Of course you will," said Nancy. "You will be miles better when cook has
looked to it. I know she's grand about burns, and has a famous ointment
she uses for the purpose. Only, for goodness' sake, Paulie, don't let
that burn in the sleeve of your dress be seen; that would lead to
consequences, and I don't want my midnight picnic to be spoilt."

"I don't seem to care about that or anything else any more."

"What nonsense! You don't suppose I should like this little escapade of
yours and mine to be known. You must take care. Why, you know, there's
father. He's very crotchety over some things. He likes all of you, but
over and over again he has said:

"'I'm as proud of being an honest farmer as I should be to be a lord. My
grandfather paid his way, and my father paid his way, and I am paying my
way. There's no nonsense about me, and I shall leave you, Nancy, a tidy
fortune. You like those young ladies at The Dales, and you shall have
them come here if they wish to come, but not otherwise. I won't have them
here thinking themselves too grand to talk to us. Let them keep to their
own station, say I. I don't want them.'

"Now you see, Paulie, what that means. If father found out that your aunt
had written to me and desired me to have nothing further to do with you,
I believe he'd pack me out of the country to-morrow. I don't want to
leave my home; why should I? So, you see, for my sake you must keep it
the closest of close secrets."

"You should have thought of that before you tempted me to come," said
Pauline.

"That is just like you. You come here and enjoy yourself, and have a
great hearty meal, and when you are likely to get into a scrape you throw
the blame on me."

"You can understand that I am very miserable, Nancy."