The
wardrobe, a piece of furniture which had been built for larger premises,
was a particularly hard nut to crack, but they succeeded at last--in
three places.
[Illustration: "A particularly hard nut to crack."]
A few of his intimates came down to see the last of him, and Miss Nugent,
who in some feminine fashion regarded the move as a triumph for her
family, passed by several times. It might have been chance, it might
have been design, but the boy could not help noticing that when the
piano, the wardrobe, and other fine pieces were being placed in the van,
she was at the other end of the road a position from which such curios as
a broken washstand or a two-legged chair never failed to entice her.
It was over at last. The second van had disappeared, and nothing was
left but a litter of straw and paper. The front door stood open and
revealed desolation. Miss Nugent came to the gate and stared in
superciliously.
"I'm glad you're going," she said, frankly.
Master Hardy scarcely noticed her. One of his friends who concealed
strong business instincts beneath a sentimental exterior had suggested
souvenirs and given him a spectacle-glass said to have belonged to Henry
VIII.
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