For Nancy had allowed Terry to confess to having broken the glasses, though she would not have dear old Madam disturbed by a description of the pranks with the dog.

So long as Nursey had to go groping about as if in the dark, putting her nose to the carpet in search of the dressing-comb she had dropped out of her hand, feeling all over the pin-cushion for a pin, and shaking out the newspaper with an expression on her face which told that it was a perfectly blank sheet to her: while this state of things went on, Terry had no time to think of fresh adventures, so eager was she to come to Nursey's relief with her sharp young eyes and her quick little fingers.
However, a more thorough relief was at hand, and it happened in this way.
Walsh, the old steward at Trimleston, was the same age as Nancy, and the same kind of spectacles suited him.

He sometimes went a journey to a town about thirty miles away to pay bills for Madam, and to order things that were wanted about the place.

Granny suddenly discovered that he might as well take the journey now as wait for the spring.

She gave him a long list of matters to be attended to for her, and then she said: "And you had better go to the optician's, Walsh, and choose a pair of spectacles to suit yourself, and bring them to me for Nurse Nancy." As soon as Terry saw Nursey's keen brown eyes looking at her through the familiar little glass windows once more, she felt her remorse slip away from her, and her liberty return.
"Nursey is able to take care of herself now," she thought, "and I have nothing to do.