by L. T. Meade
father--he's off. Good-bye, Dad."
Flossie's voice sounded on the summer breeze. Mr Griffiths looked upand kissed his hand to her.
"Good-bye to you both," he said. "I'll be back to-morrow, and if I can,Nesta, I'll look in and see how your mother is getting on. Are you sureyou have no message?"
"None; please, don't trouble," said Nesta.
She was feeling now most frantically wretched. That last feast withFlossie was scarcely a success. She did not know how she was to livethrough the next day. If she had money enough she would return home.She would boldly declare that she had a right to her own home, the homethat no longer seemed to want her. There was no telegram that day--noletter, no message of any sort.
The next morning rose bright and glorious. Flossie, dressed in her_very_ best, went off for the picnic with the Browns. They had twowaggonettes packed full of people, and Flossie squeezed herself in amidpeals of laughter. Nesta watched her from behind the curtain of thedrawing room window; Mrs Griffiths was well to the front, bowing andsmiling, and kissing her hand.
"There," she said, when the waggonettes passed out of sight, "I'm gladmy Floss is going to have a good time. Sorry for you, Nesta, but thenyou gave us to understand that you'd be sent for so soon."
"I thought so," said Nesta.
"Well, dear, it's all the better for you, you have the advantage of thesea. You must put up with an old woman for once. I'm going for a dipin the briny this morning. What do you say to coming with me?"
Nesta acquiesced. She might as well do that as anything else. Shedidn't care about it, of course.
Mrs Griffiths was energetic when she was at the seaside, and she tookher dip and then a long walk, and then she waded for a time, and Nestahad to wade with her. They were both tired when they returned to thehouse in the middle of the day.
And now, at last, there was a telegram. It lay on the table in itslittle yellow envelope. Nesta felt suddenly sick and faint. MrsGriffiths took it up.
"It's for me," she said. "It's to say that my man is coming back thisevening--or maybe not until to-morrow, or Monday."
She read the telegram. Nesta watched her with parted lips, as MrsGriffiths slowly acquainted herself with the contents. She was a quick,energetic woman, but as regarded matters relating to the mind she slow.The telegram puzzled her.
"It's queer," she said. "Can you make anything of it?"
She handed it to Nesta. Nesta road the contents.
"`Coming back sooner than I expected. Have been to the Aldworths'--avery queer business; will tell you when we meet.'"
"I wonder if your mother is worse," said Mrs Griffiths, looking withher kind eyes at the girl. "Why, Nesta, you are as white as a sheet!Is anything wrong?"
"No," said Nesta. She let the telegram flutter to the floor; it wasMrs Griffiths who picked it up. Nemesis had come--Nemesis with avengeance.
"I don't expect it is anything. Your father--I mean Flossie's father,is always fond of making mountains out of molehills. It is nothingspecial, it really isn't; you may be sure on that point," said the goodwoman. "Anyhow, he will tell us when he comes, and not all the guessingin the world will spoil our appetites, will it, Nesta? See this pigeonpie, the very best that could be got; I ordered it from thepastrycook's, for I don't much like some of our landlady's cooking."
Nesta could have enjoyed that pigeon pie, but the telegram, Nemesis, inshort, had crushed what appetite she possessed out of her. She fiddledwith her food, then sprang up.
"I am so anxious," she said.
"Why, what is it, child?"
Mrs Griffiths looked at her; Nesta looked full at Mrs Griffiths.
"I must tell you something; I know you will hate me; I know you will,but if you would be kind just for once--"
"Goodness me, child! Of course I'll be kind. What is troubling you?Anything wrong with the mother?"
"It isn't that--it is that when I came with you I ran away."
"You did what?" said Mrs Griffiths.
Nesta mumbled out her miserable story. She told it dismally. MrsGriffiths had, as she averred afterwards, to drag the words from thechild. At last the ugly facts were made plain to her. Nesta haddeliberately left her home without saying one word to anybody. She hadbeen aided and abetted by Flossie, Mrs Griffiths' good, honourable,open-hearted Flossie--at least that is what Mrs Griffiths hadconsidered her child. Yes, Flossie had helped her friend, and herfriend had gone; she had not said a word to any one at home; she hadonly sent off a telegram. The telegram, of course, must bear theScarborough mark, but they had taken no notice.
"Of course, Mr Griffiths went to see them, and of course they told him,and of course--of course, he will be just mad," said Mrs Griffiths."He will be in a towering rage; I don't know what he won't do. There'llbe a split between us; he'll never let our Flossie speak to you again,that's plain."
"Oh, Mrs Griffiths, if you would be good, if you would but just lend meenough money to get home before--before he comes."
"Well, now, that wouldn't be a bad idea," said Mrs Griffiths. "You canmake off, I will see you into the tram; you don't mind travellingthird-class, do you?"
"I'd travel on the top of the train--I'd travel in the guard's van--I'dtravel anywhere only to get away," said Nesta.
"Well, child, I'll just look up the trains, and put you into onemyself--or no, perhaps I'd better not. You might give us the slip, asit were. If he thought that I'd let you go home before he came, he'dgive me a piece of his mind, and there'd be the mischief to pay again.You can find your own way to the station."
"I can. I can."
"I'll look out the very next train, the very next."
"Oh, do, please do. And please lend me some money."
Mrs Griffiths produced half a sovereign, which she put into Nesta'spalm. Nesta hardly waited to thank her.
"Good-bye. Oh, I am grateful--I will write. Explain to Flossie. Tryto forgive me--it was so dull at home, only Miss Mule Selfish, you know,and Molly and Ethel."
"And your mother," said Mrs Griffiths, a little severely, for it wasthe thought of the anxiety that Nesta had given her mother which touchedMrs Griffiths' heart most nearly.
"Mothery wouldn't be cross, that is certain sure," said poor Nesta.
She was putting on her hat as she uttered the words, and a few minuteslater she was toiling through the hot sun and blinding dust, for the daywas a windy one, to the railway station _en route_ for Newcastle.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
NEMESIS.
It was late that evening when two men entered Mrs Griffiths' drawingroom at Scarborough. One was Mr Griffiths, and the other HoraceAldworth, Nesta's half-brother. Mrs Griffiths was overpowered byHorace's presence. She had spent a wretched time since Nesta had gone.The girl was scarcely out of the house before the elder woman decidedthat she had done very wrong to lend her money; there was no saying whatshe might do, nor how she would spend it. She might not go home at all.She was a queer girl--unlike her Flossie. She had done a strange, amost unaccountable thing; just for the sake of a bit of pleasure, shehad left her own friends, her mother, her sisters--she had planned itall cleverly, but--and here lay the sting--she had not planned it alone.Flossie was in the thick of the mischief.
Mrs Griffiths' uneasiness with regard to Nesta presently melted downinto a tender sort of regret. Her real sorrow was for her Flossie, herlittle black-eyed, dancing, mischievous girl, Flossie, who had alwaysbeen fond of her father and mother, and who had never given herselfairs, but had just delighted in Nesta because she must have some friend,but who would not do what Nesta had done for the wide world. And yet,try as she would, Mrs Griffiths could not get over the fact thatFlossie had aided and abetted Nesta; that she knew all about it. MrsGriffiths thought she could understand. She had recourse to herfavourite adage--"Girls will be girls." She remembered the time whenshe was at school. Girls' schools were somewhat common sort of placesin Mrs Griffiths' early days. She remembered how she had smuggled incakes, how
she had secreted sticky sweetmeats in her pockets, how shehad defied her teachers, and copied her themes from other girls, andwhat romps they had had in the attics, and how they had laughed at theteachers behind their backs. All these things Mrs Griffiths had donein the days of her youth; but nevertheless these things did not seem sograve or serious as what Flossie had done. Of course, she would forgiveher; catch a mother being long angry with her only child; but thenGriffiths--Mrs Griffiths always called her husband by that name--hewould be wild.
"Griffiths will give it to her, and she's that saucy she'll