He began to groan and scream too. Nan and her mother ran into the
house and shut the door. They could not bear it. "What shall we do,
if any one else comes?" sobbed Nan. "O, mother! there is Dame Dorothy
coming. And--yes--Oh! she has stopped too." Poor Dame Dorothy had
envied Dame Clementina a little for her flower-garden, which was finer
than hers, so she had to join Dame Golding and her husband.

Pretty soon another woman came, who had looked with envious eyes at
Dame Clementina, because she was a count's daughter; and another, who
had grudged her a fine damask petticoat, which she had had before she
was disinherited, and still wore on holidays; and they both had to
stop.

Then came three rough-looking men in velvet jackets and slouched hats,
who brought up short at the gate with a great jerk that nearly took
their breath away. They were robbers who were prowling about with a
view to stealing Dame Clementina's silver milk-pans some dark night.

[Illustration: A STRANGE SAD STATE OF THINGS.]

All through the day the people kept coming and stopping. It was
wonderful how many things poor Dame Clementina had to be envied
by men and women, and even children. They envied Nan for her yellow
curls or her blue eyes, or her pretty snuff-colored gown. When the
sun set, the yard in front of Dame Clementina's cottage was full of
people. Lastly, just before dark, the count himself came ambling up
on a coal-black horse. The count was a majestic old man dressed in
velvet, with stars on his breast. His white hair fell in long curls
on his shoulders, and he had a pointed beard. As he came to the gate,