Julia’s pride was wounded beyond concealment at this humorously intended suggestion of Nancy’s.

“Of course if Aunt Margaret approves, I have nothing to say,” she remarked, “but I myself would never come to any private party where refreshments were ‘solicited.’  The very idea is horrible.”

“I’m ‘coming out’ in the barn next summer, Muddy!” Nancy called to her mother, who just then entered the door.  “If we are poorer than ever, we can take up a collection to defray the expenses; Julia and Kitty would look so attractive going about with tambourines!  I want to do what I can quickly, because I see plainly I shall have to marry young in order to help the family.  The heroine always does that in books; she makes a worldly marriage with a rich nobleman, in order that her sister Kitty and her cousin Julia may have a good education.”

“I don’t know where you get your ideas, Nancy,” said her mother, smiling at her nonsense.  “You certainly never read half a dozen novels in your life!”

“No, but Joanna used to read them by the hundred and tell me the stories; and I’ve heard father read aloud to you; and the older girls and the younger teachers used to discuss them at school;—­oh!  I know a lot about life,—­as it is in books,—­and I’m just waiting to see if any of it really happens!”

“Digby Popham is the only rich nobleman in sight for you, Nancy!” Kitty said teasingly.

“Or freckled Cyril Lord,” interpolated Julia.

“He looks like an unbaked pie!” This from Kitty.

Nancy flushed.  “He’s shy and unhappy and pale, and no wonder; but he’s as nice and interesting as he can be.”

“I can’t see it,” Julia said, “but he never looks at anybody, or talks to anybody but you, so it’s well you like him; though you like all boys, for that matter!”

“The boys return the compliment!” asserted Kitty mischievously, “while poor you and I sit in corners!”

“Come, come, dears,” and Mrs. Carey joined in the conversation as she picked up a pillow before returning to the house.  “It’s a little early for you to be talking about rich noblemen, isn’t it?”

Nancy followed her out of the door, saying as she thoughtfully chewed a straw, “Muddy, I do believe that when you’re getting on to sixteen the rich nobleman or the fairy prince or the wonderful youngest son does cross your mind now and then!”

XX

THE PAINTED CHAMBER

Matters were in this state of forwardness when Nancy and Kathleen looked out of the window one morning and saw Lallie Joy Popham coming down the street.  She “lugged” butter and milk regularly to the Careys (lugging is her own word for the act), and helped them in many ways, for she was fairly good at any kind of housework not demanding brains.  Nobody could say why some of Ossian Popham’s gifts of mind and conversation had not descended to his children, but though the son was not really stupid at practical work, Lallie Joy was in a perpetual state of coma.