An hour pa.s.sed, and then the singer was startled by the sound of a sob.

She was singing 'Oh, that I had wings like a dove!' and turning round, was startled at the sight of a white sun-bonnet and two small hands grasping the back of one of the pews. Betty had mounted on the ha.s.sock to have a full view of the singer long ago, and was now trying in vain to restrain the pent-up feelings of her sensitive little soul.

In an instant the lady had left her seat and come up to the child.

'What is the matter, little one? How did you find your way in here?' she asked gently, as she put her arm round the sobbing child.

But Betty could not put her feelings into words; she only shook her head and sobbed, 'I like the music; don't stop singing.'

'I must stop now: my hour is up. Tell me who you are.'

Betty made an effort to recover her self-possession.

'I'm only Betty,' she said, dabbing her face with her handkerchief; 'are you an angel?'

'Indeed I am not; do I look like one?'

And the lady threw back her head and laughed in a very amused way.

'Not now,' said Betty soberly; 'but you did look like one when you were singing, and I--I hoped you might be.'

'Why did you hope so?'

Again Betty was silent; then, looking up, she seemed to gather courage from the kind face looking down upon her, and burying her face in the lady's dress, she sobbed out,--

'I thought G.o.d might have sent you; and then you could have told me lots of things I wanted to know.'

'Perhaps G.o.d may have sent me instead of an angel. Tell me some of the things you want to know.'

'I want to know about Violet, and heaven, and tribulation,' murmured Betty a little incoherently; and then she started as the church clock in the belfry began to chime five.

'It's tea-time; nurse will be looking for me.'

The lady stooped and kissed her. 'I must go too,' she said; 'will you come and see me to-morrow afternoon? I shall be here at the same time, and then we can have a little talk.'

'What is your name?' asked Betty.

'Nesta,' the young lady answered, a little briefly.

'And do you teach children?' was the next question, breathlessly put.

'Sometimes; on Sundays I do.'

Betty's face lighted up, but she said no more, and trotted out of the church and along the road as hard as ever she could.

CHAPTER V

Prince

The children were all at breakfast the next morning in the old-fashioned kitchen. Nurse and her brother were having an animated talk over some reminiscences of the past, when there was a knock at the back door, and Mrs. Giles went out. Coming back, she appeared with a small hamper under her arm, which she placed on the floor.

''Tis the queerest thing I know of,' she said; 'look at the label now, Jack; whoever is it for?'

Every one crowded round at once.

'For the little odd one at Brook Farm.'

''Tis for one of the children,' said Jack, rubbing his head; 'they be the only little 'uns that I know of.'

'It's for Betty!' shouted Douglas and Molly excitedly; 'she's the odd one! Open it quick, Betty; perhaps it's a big cake.'

'It's alive!' exclaimed nurse, as on her knees she tried to undo the fastenings. 'Come along, Miss Betty, you shall open it for yourself.'

Betty came near, and with trembling fingers cut the string.

A minute after, and out of the hamper jumped a beautiful little black and white spaniel.

There were screams of delight from all the children, and great surmises as to who could have sent it. Betty guessed, but said nothing when she found a piece of paper tied to a bra.s.s collar round his neck, with these words: 'From a friend, hoping he may prove a true companion.'

She clasped her arms round the dog's neck in ecstasy. 'He is my very, very own,' she said, looking up at nurse with shining eyes; 'and I'll have him for ever and ever.'

The little creature sniffed at her face, and then put out his tongue, and gave her a lick of satisfaction and approval. From that time the two were all in all to each other.

There was a great deal of discussion about him that morning, and Betty had to tell of the strange, stern lady who had spoken to her in the wood.

'I'm sure she sent him,' Betty kept repeating; 'I'm sure she did.'

'It was awfully mean to keep your adventure so secret, said Douglas, looking at the dog very wistfully; 'she must be a fairy G.o.dmother living in the wood. I wish she would send me something.'

'Perhaps she is a wicked fairy or witch,' suggested Molly, 'who has turned a prince into a little dog, and we must find a kind of spell to bring him back to a prince again.'

'That's what I'll call him,' said Betty, looking up; 'I'll call him Prince.'

Nurse at first demurred at having such an addition to her family, but Mrs. Giles comforted her with the a.s.surance--'There, let the little miss enjoy him; she'll soon get tired of him--children always do--and when you go back to London you can leave him behind with us. He's a good breed, that we can see; and Jack will be able to sell him if we don't care about keeping him.'

It was fortunate Betty did not hear this suggestion. Prince was rapidly filling a void in her little heart of which only she perhaps had been dimly conscious. She was a child with strong affections and intense feelings, and a yearning to have some one to love, and to be loved in return. None of the little Stuarts were demonstrative, and few guessed how deeply and pa.s.sionately the bright and mischievous Betty longed for the sympathy and love that was so rarely shown towards her.

So engrossing was the possession of Prince that the day went by, and tea-time came, before Betty thought of her new friend in the church.

But when tea was over she took Molly into her confidence. 'Molly, do you think I might take Prince for a walk? would he follow me?'

'Where are you going?'

'I'm going to see a lady that I think is the governess Mr. Roper told me about; Nesta, her name is, only I think he called her Mother Nesta.

I told you about it one night, don't you remember? she's really very old, but she looks very young, and this one must be her.'

'Where did you find her?'