She'd made up her mind then to that. As Hannibal determined to cross the
Alps, as Napoleon set his feet towards Moscow, so did Nancy Ross resolve
that she would, in the company of her father, dig in the gardens. She
stroked her father's hand, rubbed her head upon his sleeve; exactly as
she would have caressed, had she been another little girl, the damaged
features of her old rag doll. She was beginning, however, for the first
time in her life, to love some one other than herself.

He came, then, quite often to the nursery. He would slip in, stay a
moment or two, and slip out again. He brought her presents and sweets
which made her ill. And always in the presence of Mrs. Munty they
appeared as strangers.

The day came when Nancy achieved her desire--they had their great
adventure.


IV

A fine summer morning came, and with it, in a bowler hat, at the nursery
door, the hour being about eleven, Mr. Munty Boss.

"I'll take Nancy this morning, nurse," he said, with a strange, choking
little "cluck" in his throat. Now, the nurse, although, as I've said, of
a shining and superficial appearance, was no fool. She had watched the
development of the intrigue; her attitude to the master of the house was
composed of pity, patronage, and a rather motherly interest. She did not
see how her mistress could avoid her attitude: it was precisely the
attitude that she would herself have adopted in that position, but,