But Nancy did not resemble her mother in hasty moods, she was rather the
subject of permanent impressions. Her mother's conduct had wounded her
to the quick. She could no longer endure it, she thought. Hitherto, her
father's love had rendered it bearable--but now, even that seemed
powerless to keep her under the same roof as her mother. Where could she
go? She would walk on, no matter in what direction; then, when she could
walk no more, she might perhaps be calm enough to think.


IV.

"Where is Nan?" asked John Forest, when he entered the house, an hour
after Nancy had left it.

"Oh, she'll be here presently," replied the mother evasively. Of course
Nancy would come soon, she thought to herself, and what was the use of
rousing John?

Another hour passed. "Nan's very late to-night," said her father. "I've
a mind to go and meet her."

"You bide by the fire, John," responded his wife. "Nancy's in a tantrum
because I found out as she'd took that bag-money--she'll come in when
she's a mind."

"The _bag-money_!" repeated John in a puzzled way. "Nan take it!--she
never did, barring you give it her."

"She did then, and bought gloves with it, to do up with six buttons, and