It was her winter, that was all, she told
herself. She must wait as the flowers did.
When she reached home, her mind was filled with hope--hope which but too
soon was to give place to despair. Last night Mrs. Forest had struck
her--but then she had not looked nearly so angry as she did now when her
daughter appeared before her.
"Where is my ten shillings?" she cried menacingly, as Nancy closed the
kitchen-door behind her. "What have you done with it, you ungrateful,
unnatural girl?" she repeated loudly.
"Indeed, mother, I know nothing of it," poor Nancy answered, trembling
violently.
"Is it in that there teapot?" inquired the enraged mother, thrusting the
article in question close to the frightened girl's face. Nancy glanced
rapidly from the empty teapot to the chimney-piece.
"You needn't look there, you hussy," Mrs. Forest continued, seeing the
direction Nancy's eyes were taking. "There's _nothing_ on the
chimney-piece--the money's gone, and you've took it, because your father
said you were to--it wasn't his to give--did he mend the sacks? tell me
that! I'll have my money back--every halfpenny, so you'd better give it
me before I make you."
"Mother, I have not touched it; I know nothing about it, really I
don't," said Nancy desperately.
"What's that you've got in your hand?" demanded Mrs. Forest, catching
sight of the parcel containing the gloves.
Nancy did not answer; she was looking at the round table, which was
covered with the shining brass ornaments which had been removed from the
chimney-piece in the search for the missing coin.
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