KITTY TRENIRE

by

MABEL QUILLER-COUCH

CONTENTS. 

I. Fate and a Rusty Nail. 

II. The News, and how they received it. 

III. A Drive and a Slice of Cake. 

IV. Storms at Home and Abroad

V. In Wenmere Woods. 

VI. Tea at the Farm. 

VII. The "Rover" takes them Home. 

VIII. A Bad Beginning. 

IX. The Coming of Anna. 

X. Lessons, Alarms, and Warnings. 

XI. Poor Kitty!

XII. Those Dreadful Stockings. 

XIII. An Exciting Night. 

XIV. Mokus and Carrots

XV. Missing!

XVI. Banished. 

XVII. "Good in Everything". 

XVIII. Threatening Clouds. 

XIX. Betty's Escapade. 

XX. Kitty's Hands are Full. 

XXI. The Last. 

CHAPTER I. 

FATE AND A RUSTY NAIL. 

On such an afternoon, when all the rest of the world lay in the fierceglare of the scorching sun, who could blame the children for choosing toperch themselves on the old garden wall, where it was so cool, andshady, and enticing? And who, as Kitty often asked tragically in thedays and weeks that followed, could have known that by doing so "theywere altering their fates for ever"?

The four of them talked a great deal in those days of their "fates;"it sounded so mysterious and grand, and so interesting too, for, ofcourse, no one could know what lay in store for them all, and the mostwonderful and surprising events might happen. They did happen to somepeople, and why not to them?

"I am quite sure something will happen to me some day, " said Betty, witha very wise and serious look. 

"I shouldn't be surprised, " said Dan with mock seriousness, "if something did. "

"I mean something wonderful, of course, " added Betty. "Don't, " with asuperior air, "be silly, Dan. Things must happen to somebody, or therewould never be any. "

Later that same day they realized for the first time that small eventscould be interesting and important too, and that while they werethinking of their "fates" as something to be spun and woven in themysterious future, the shuttle was already flying fast. 

As I said before, the old wall was particularly cool andtempting-looking that sunny afternoon, for the high, untrimmed laurelhedge on the other side of the path behind them threw a deep broadshadow over the flat top of it, and shade was what one appreciated moston that hot day. All the ground in Gorlay sloped, for Gorlay was builton two hills, while the gardens of all the houses on either side slopedeither up or down another and a steeper hill. Dr. Trenire's house wason the left-hand side of the street, as one walked up it, and it was thesteep slope up of the garden behind it that made the old wall sofascinating. 

To reach the garden from the house one had to pass through a cobbledyard, with the back wing of the house and a stable on one side of it, and a coach-house and another stable on the other. The garden and thegarden wall were at the end. From the yard the wall ran up to a goodheight--to the children it seemed immense, as high as the tower ofBabel, though were they to go back now and look at it I dare say theywould find it quite insignificant, for walls have a curious way ofdecreasing an inch or two with every year one grows older. 

To the children, though, its two chief charms were that it had a broadflat top on which one could sit and dangle one's legs over the abyssbelow, and that from the garden it was so low that by just walking overa flower-bed one could step right on to it, while from that eminence onecould command a view of the back door, the side door, the stables, andall that went on in the yard. So that, in addition to being cool andshady, it really was a most attractive and alluring spot. 

A vine with a wealth of pretty leaves and long graceful tendrils coveredthe front of the stable and side of the house, and some years therewould be a few bunches of little green grapes hanging amongst theleaves. Through the open stable window, festooned by the vine, dear oldPrue, Dr. Trenire's well-beloved and faithful mare, would thrust out herhead and gaze dreamily at the life in the yard, or at nothing; and thechildren, if they were about, would rub her nose and fondle herlovingly, and bring her handfuls of grass, or carrots, or sugar. Sometimes, too, "Pinkie, " the yellow cat, would seat herself on thenarrow sill of the stable window, close to Prue's cheek, until, findingthe air too chilly, or the children too noisy, or sleep overcoming her, she would go inside and curl herself up on Prue's back for a nap. 

To-day, though, neither Prue nor Pinkie were to be seen. Apparently they were both indulging in an afternoon nap in the shadystable, for it really was a very hot day, and the sun fell full on thevine and the stable window. 

Unfortunately it fell on the door too, and showed up a most inviting andenticing-looking spot where the sun had once raised a blister on thepaint. 

Every one will admit that there is a wonderful fascination about a nicesoft paint-blister, and busy fingers had quickly peeled this one off, with the result that to-day there was a spot which made as good a targetas any one could possibly desire, and just within range of their perchon the wall. There was also, unfortunately, quite close at hand asupply of perfect ammunition in the shape of a heap of small stones andrubbish which they had swept together a few days before when seized by asudden mania for tidying up the garden. Of course, had they been reallygood children, they would have finished their job by shovelling up theheap and carrying it away; but they grew very tired, and the work washard, and they felt they really had done a great deal for one day. So the heap was left in the path until, on this hot afternoon, theyfound a new and not at all tiring way of disposing of most of it. 

They kept up such a sharp fire, and made such a noise, that presentlyJabez, the coachman and general factotum, was dancing with rage in theyard below--rage at the noise they were making and the litter he foresawhe would have to sweep up before "the master" saw the place, and addedrage at the calm unconcern with which they ignored his commands. 

The children, though really very much attached to Jabez, unfortunatelyfelt no fear of him, and above all things they loved to tease him. They would not willingly have hurt him on any account whatever, but, asthey said afterwards, when he deliberately placed himself between themand their target, and dared them to throw another stone, why of coursehe had to put up with what he got; and what he got most particularly wasa nasty blow on the forehead from a piece of old wood that Dan threw athim. 

Dan, as he explained at the time, really selected the wood out of purehumanity, because he thought it would be softer than a stone if itshould happen to strike any one; and, as he argued emphatically, "it was ridiculous to think he could have known that Jabez was going toduck his silly head at the very wrong moment, and it was even moreridiculous of Jabez to accuse him of knowing that there was a largerusty nail in the wood, for Jabez knew as well as possible that he, Dan, would have been only too jolly glad to have had the nail, for he wascollecting old iron as hard as he could, intending to sell it the verynext time the 'old-iron' man came round. "

Instead of which it was taken by Jabez, along with his bleeding head, straight into the presence of Dr. Trenire, who happened at the moment tobe sitting in his study, trying to get a little sorely-needed rest. The doctor had been out all the previous night at a most trying case, and body and brain were weary, his nerves all on edge, his patiencenearly exhausted, and he had no time or inclination for unpleasantinterruptions and unnecessary worries. Altogether there could not havebeen a much more unpropitious moment for any one to have gone to himthan that which Jabez chose. 

As a rule Dr. Trenire was only too gentle and kind and patient with hisfour motherless children; but to-day, when they slowly, and at adiscreet distance, followed Jabez into the study, Kitty felt a suddenconviction that things were not going to be quite as simply and easilygot over as usual. She saw a look cross her father's face such as shehad never seen on it before, and for the first time in her careless, happy-go-lucky life realized with keen compunction what a sad, tired, patient face it was, and suddenly she found herself wanting to do thingsfor him to try to cheer and help him, and wished most heartily that theyhad done anything but bring fresh worry and unpleasantness to him. 

But before he inquired into the particulars of the squabble, Dr. Trenireattended to the wound. It was only a surface one, but the skin was tornrather badly, and Jabez was bleeding a good deal, and groaning with allhis might. 

"Get me some hot water. "

Only too glad to be able to do anything to help, Kitty ran off; but torun for hot water was one thing, to get it was quite another. The firewas out, the kitchen was littered with dishes and pots and pans, andFanny the cook, with a dirty apron on and no cap, was fast asleep in herchair by the window, just as though she had not a care or a duty in theworld. The squalor and muddle of the whole place could not fail tostrike any one, even casual Kitty; and to her it brought a deeperfeeling, one of trouble and remorse, for, in response to her ownpleading, her father had made her his housekeeper--and this was how shehad fulfilled her duties! In fact, she had given herself no duties; shehad shirked them. She had left everything to the servants, and as longas she had been free and untroubled, and meals of a kind had been servedat more or less regular intervals, had bothered no further. 

"Fanny!" she called sharply, "do wake up! Why haven't you got a fire, and a kettle boiling?"

Fanny awoke with a start, which in itself is enough to make a personcross; and to have been caught asleep, with her work not done, made hercrosser. "I don't want a great fire burning on a hot afternoon likethis, " she answered sharply. "You wouldn't like it yourself if you hadto sit by it, Miss Kitty; and if it's your tea you'm wanting, well, itisn't tea-time yet. When 'tis, you will find 'tis ready. "

"Um--m!" said Kitty loftily, in a tone that expressed most emphaticdoubt of Fanny's statement. 

"What is it you're routing about in the cupboards for, miss? I don'tlike to have folks coming into my kitchen, turning everything over andrummaging round. I shan't know where to find a thing when I wants to. What is it you'm looking for?"

"The methylated spirit and the little stove, " said Kitty. "I _must_have some hot water, Fanny, and quickly. Father wants some. There hasbeen an accident. "

Fanny changed her tone, and her expression grew a little milder. "We haven't got a leak, miss. We ran out of it a week ago. I toldEmily to tell you--but there, I might as well talk to the wind as talkto her--"

"Oh dear, " interrupted Kitty, "whatever shall I do? Jabez is bleedingso he will bleed to death--"

"Jabez! Oh my! Whatever has happened, Miss Kitty?" Suddenly Fanny'swhole manner changed to one of anxious eagerness and deep concern. "Is it--is it dangerous, miss? How did it happen? What's he done?"Fanny had been so sound asleep that she had not noticed the noise in theyard, or the little procession pass the kitchen window on its way to thestudy. 

"I don't think it is very bad, " said Kitty. "Dan threw a piece of wood, and it--it hit Jabez on the forehead, and--and oh, Fanny, what willfather think? I believe he is angry with us already, and you know hewas out all night and is very tired, and he will be more angry ifthere's no hot water or anything he wants, and I--I did so want to helphim. "

Fanny, who appeared more concerned about Jabez than about her master, was, with a lavish use of sticks, kindling a big blaze under a smallkettle, and soon had water ready as hot as it was needed. Kitty, greatly relieved, ran back with it to her father. 

"I suppose, as usual, there was none, " he said gravely, "though I havesaid until I am tired that in a doctor's house there should always be asupply;" and Kitty could find nothing to say. 

Jabez by this time was seated in a chair, facing the light. He waslooking very pale and subdued. The thought of having his woundwashed and dressed upset him far more than did the wound itself. Betty and Anthony were sitting on two of the stiffest and mostuncomfortable-looking chairs in the room, with very grave expressionson their pale but not too clean faces. Dan was standing by the windowlooking intensely nervous and uncomfortable. He glanced frequently fromJabez to his father, and back again, and Kitty could see he was longingto say something, but did not know how to. She was very sorry that ithad been Dan who had dealt the fatal blow. She almost wished that ithad been she herself who had done it, for their father was never quiteso severe with her or Betty as with the boys. 

With the feeling still on her that trouble was coming, she fried to makeherself as useful as possible; but as she knew little or nothing as towhere anything was kept, she was more of a hindrance than a help, andher hopes were blighted by her father's order to them all to leave theroom. 

"I will see you presently, " he said sternly. "I will either come to youor send for you when I am ready;" and, feeling very crushed, they madetheir way to the old nursery, now called "the schoolroom, " and therewaited with curiously mingled feelings for what was to happen next. They did not expect it to be anything _very_ serious; but they hated tovex their father, and they felt that now they really had vexed him. 

Oh how slowly the minutes passed, and what a lot of them there were!It seemed to them that time enough had elapsed in which to have setevery limb that Jabez possessed, and to hear the recital of every wronghe had ever received at their hands; and by the time they heard theirfather's footstep coming their hopes and fears had gone up and downagain many times, and they had pictured themselves sentenced to everypossible and impossible punishment that their minds could imagine. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE NEWS, AND HOW THEY RECEIVED IT. 

When the door opened and Dr. Trenire came in with the heavy tread of avery weary man, and the face of a very worried one, another and a largerwave of shame and remorse rushed over them all. 

Dan stepped forward at once to put his feelings into words. "I amfearfully sorry, father, " he said impetuously. "I--I was a brute tothrow the things at Jabez; but I--I never meant to hurt him. Is it verybad?"

"It is not a serious wound by any means, " said the doctor slowly;"but, of course, the wood was old and dirty, and the nail rusty, andthere is always danger of blood-poisoning. "

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that, " said Dan, looking alarmed. 

"No, that is just it, " sighed the doctor; "you don't think. No one inthe house thinks, it seems to me. I suppose, though, it isn't yourfault; you have no one to teach you, " and he sighed a heavy, harassedsigh. 

The children's mother had died nearly five years earlier, when Kitty wasnine, and Anthony but a year old. For a time a housekeeper had beenemployed to manage both children and servants; but so uncomfortable hadbeen her rule, so un-homelike the house, so curbed and dreary thechildren's lives, that when Kitty reached the mature age of thirteen herfather, only too glad to banish the stranger from their midst, had givenin to her pleading, and with high hopes of a home which would be happyand homelike once more, allowed her to become housekeeper and mistressof the house. 

Unfortunately, though, Kitty had had no training. Her mother had beenan excellent manager; but Kitty was only a little thing when she losther, and her life had mostly been spent, happily enough, in nursery andschoolroom. Mrs. Trenire's wish had been that her children should havea happy childhood, so all family troubles, all anxieties, domesticworries and details, were kept from them, and the result was that, beyond the nursery and schoolroom life, they knew nothing. Kitty hadnot the least idea how rooms were cleaned, or meals provided, oranything. Then had come the housekeeper, who for other reasons had keptthe children to their own quarters. She resented any interference orquestioning, and objected to any trouble they might give her, but aslong as they amused themselves and kept out of her way, they were freeto do pretty much as they wished. 

Under the circumstances it was not greatly to be wondered at that whenKitty took up the reins of management, life at Dr. Trenire's was notwell-ordered and free from muddle, and that the doctor himself lookedworried, and sad, and careworn. 

The pity of it was that Kitty did not try to learn even the verysimplest things in housekeeping, and in that lay the root of the troubleand the cause of all that followed. Though when four wild youngspirits, that have been bottled up and corked down for years, suddenlyfind themselves free and able to do what they like when they like, without having to render an account to any one, it would be ratherwonderful if they did settle down and become quite staid and steady allat once. 

Kitty it was, though, who was most at fault. She had begged to beallowed to manage the house, and, having got her wish, she just seizedthe advantages and revelled in the freedom, but ignored theresponsibilities; and no one was more acutely aware of this fact thanwas Kitty herself during the next half-hour, when their father talked sogravely to them all in the schoolroom. 

"I have been thinking a great deal, " he said, as he dropped wearily intothe roomy old chair by the fireplace--the chair where their mother usedto sit and tell them stories, and hear them say their prayers beforethey went to bed. "I have thought over the whole situation, as well asmy tired brain will let me, and I have come to the conclusion that forall our sakes I must get some one to come and look after us. "

"O father!" gasped Kitty in utter dismay. She had never thought thatanything as dreadful as this could happen. 

"Evidently the management of the house and all of us is beyond Kitty, "went on Dr. Trenire; "and that is not to be wondered at. We are a largefamily on the whole, and a doctor's house is not an ordinary one, and itis not surprising that everything should have got into a state of muddleand confusion. "

Kitty felt, but could not say, that she had never really tried to manageit; that as long as things had gone on without any open fiasco, and theyhad been able to enjoy themselves, and the servants had not beenbad-tempered, she had been quite content. She could not make thatconfession now, and if she had it would not have done any good. 

"The house _must_ be orderly and well managed, the meals properlyarranged and served, and the servants kept in order, and I should bevery culpable if I did not see that it was so, " went on her fatherslowly. "So, after much thought and hesitation, for I am very reluctantto admit even a comparative stranger into our midst again, I feel thatthe only thing to be done is to write to your dear mother's cousin, Mrs. Pike, and ask her to come and make her home with us. She once offeredto, and I think now, if she is still willing, it will be well to accepther kind offer. "

A stifled cry of dismay broke from the four shocked listeners--a crythey could not repress. "Aunt Pike!" Aunt Pike, of all people, to cometo live with them! Oh, it was too dreadful! It could not be--theycould never bear it! She had stayed with them once for a fortnight, andit might have been a year from the impression it had left on theirmemories. When she had left they had had a thanksgiving service in thenursery, and Betty--solemn Betty--had prayed aloud, "From Aunt Pike, pestilence, and famine, please deliver us. "

And now this dreaded aunt was to be asked to come again--not for afortnight only, but for many fortnights; and not as a guest, but as headand mistress of them all, to manage them, to order them about, to makethem do as she chose. Oh, it was overwhelming, appalling, too appallingto be true!

"But there is Anna!" gasped Kitty. 

"I know, " said Dr. Trenire, who really felt nearly as bad about it asdid his children. "Anna will live here too, probably. Of course wecould not expect her mother to leave her. "

This was the hardest blow, the final drop of bitterness their cup couldhold, the last straw on four overburthened camels. 

"But we all hate Anna, " said Betty with slow, deliberate emphasis;"and we shall hate her more if she is here always, wanting to play withus, and go about with us, and--and--"

"Betty, those remarks are unworthy of you, " said her father gravely. 

"But they are quite true, daddy, " said Tony solemnly, "and we've _got_to speak the truth and shame the devil. Jabez told us so. "

Dr. Trenire did not feel able or inclined to argue the point then. Betty drew nearer to him and leaned against his shoulder. "Daddy, " shesaid in her grave, confiding way, "you won't like it either, a bit. When Anna was here before you often used to say, 'Oh, that child!' andyou looked quite glad, as glad as we did, when she went away. I am sureyou will be sorry if she comes, nearly as sorry as we shall be, only youwill be able to go your rounds and get away from them every day; butwe, " pathetically, "can't do that. "

Again Dr. Trenire was silent. He sometimes wished his youngerdaughter's memory was less acute, and her love of reasoning less strong. No one spoke, and until some one did, remarks would go on dropping fromBetty's lips. It was a way she had. She had never been known to ceasetalking without being forcibly made to do so. "It does seem dreadful, "she went on thoughtfully, "that just because Jabez got his head hit wemust have Aunt Pike and Anna here for ever and ever, and be made veryunhappy. I am sure Jabez would rather have us punished in some otherway. Shall I ask him what he would like done to us instead?" shefinished up eagerly. 

"I don't want to punish you, " said Dr. Trenire. "Don't run away withthe idea, children, that I am doing it for that purpose. It is that Ithink it will be the best plan for all of us--for our comfort andhappiness, and your future good. I can't have you all growing up likesavages, untrained, uneducated, uncared for. What would you all say tome when you grew up?" looking round at them with a smile. 

"I would say, 'Thank you, '" said Betty gravely. 

"I'd rather be a savage than anything, " said Tony eagerly. 

Kitty and Dan were silent. Dan was old enough to realize something ofwhat his father meant; Kitty was altogether too upset to answer. She was thinking that it was she who had brought all this on them; thatshe might have saved them from it. The others blamed Jabez and histale-bearing; but Kitty in her heart of hearts felt that Jabez with hiscut forehead and his tale of woe was but a last link in the long chainwhich she had forged--a chain which was to grapple to them Aunt Pike andthe unwelcome Anna. At the same time the injury to Jabez was a lastlink, without which the chain might never have been completed. 

It was completed though, for that their father's mind was made up, hisdecision final, they recognized only too clearly, and the glorioussummer day turned suddenly to blackest, dreariest night for all of them. 

By-and-by, though, after their father had left them, and they had talkedthings over amongst themselves, some of Kitty's remorse gave way to arebellion against fate. "How could they have known, " she demandedtragically, "that by just sitting on the garden wall that afternoon theywere changing and spoiling their lives for ever, and giving Aunt Pikethe chance she had been longing for, the chance of coming there to'boss' them? How was one to know what one might do and what onemightn't? What was the use of trying? There was no going against'fate'! If it was their fate to have everything spoilt by her, shewould have come even if Jabez had never been hurt at all, and everythinghad been quite right and perfect. "

"I shall never sit on that old wall again without expecting something tohappen, " said Betty in solemn tones. 

"And you will never be disappointed after _she_ comes, " Dan forebodedgloomily, "so it is just as well to be prepared. " At which they allgroaned in miserable chorus. 

By-and-by they straggled downstairs again and out into the yard. The house was really unbearably hot, and seemed too small to allow theirminds to grasp all they had to grasp. They had a sort of gloomylonging, too, to revisit the spot where so much had happened, to go overthe familiar ground and see if the bright outer world looked differentat all; there surely must be some sign of the tragedy that had befallenthem. 

In the outer world things had changed very much. The sun haddisappeared, and the sky was heavy and overcast with threatenings of thestorm that had been brewing all the day; the old wall looked gray, andsad, and uninviting. 

"Just as though it knew, " thought Kitty. 

In the yard Prue was standing somewhat dejectedly, evidently waiting tobe harnessed; Jabez was creeping about, getting out the carriage inpreparation for a journey. He looked quite imposing with his bandagedhead, and he was taking himself very seriously. He glanced furtively atthe children, and bore himself with an air of patient but superiorresignation. In his heart he was really vexed with himself for havingcomplained of them, though he felt it would not do to let them know it. 

Betty, Dan, and Tony felt so bitterly the ill turn he had done them thatthey walked through the yard and up into the garden without a word or aglance--a cut on the forehead seemed so trifling compared with what theyhad to bear. Jabez, who had expected anger or teasing on their parts, felt this coldness greatly; he was not used to that kind of treatment, and it hurt him. Kitty, though, was so struck by the sight of hispreparations that for the moment she forgot him and his injuries. 

"Father hasn't to go out again to-night, has he, Jabez?" she askedanxiously, staying behind while the others strolled on. 

"Yes, miss, he hev. He've got to go to Welland to once. They've justsent in. "

"Are you going too?" looking at his bandaged head. 

"No, miss, " with a resigned air. "Master says I'm to go 'ome and 'ave agood night's rest--that is if so be as I can get to sleep. "

"But who is going to drive father?" interrupted Kitty. 

"Master said as 'ow he'd drive hisself. "

Kitty remembered the weary look on her father's face, the sleeplessnight he had had, the long, busy day. "Jabez, " she said with quietfirmness, "I am going to drive father; then perhaps he will be able tosleep a little in the carriage. Don't say anything to him, but I'll bein the carriage when you drive it round for him, and then I expect hewill let me go. "

Jabez looked dubiously first at the sky and then at Kitty. 

"I can drive; you know I can, " she said eagerly. "Now don't be nasty, Jabez; we have got trouble enough as it is. "

"'Tis my belief there's a nasty storm brewing--"

"I love a storm, especially when I am driving through it. "

"I was putting in the old mare on purpose, 'cause she stands thunder andlightning better than what Billy does, but--"

"Jabez, you may say what you like, but I am going, unless father stopsme; so don't bother to say any more about it. I know the way, andfather trusts me to drive. "

"I wasn't going against 'ee, Miss Kitty. If you'm set on it you'm seton it, and 'tisn't no manner of use for me to talk. "

Dan and the others came sauntering down from the garden again. "Jabez, you might give me the nail out of that bit of wood, " said Dan;"every half-ounce counts, and I want to get enough iron to sell. "

Jabez shook his head knowingly. He would rather not have had anyfurther reference made to the affair, for he was really devoted to themall, and was ashamed of his part in it. He always made a point, though, of seeming to distrust them; he thought it safer. 

"Ah, I ain't so sure, " he began, "that it'd be wise of me to let 'ee'ave it. I dunno what more 'arm you mightn't be doing with it. "

"We couldn't do more harm than you have done already, " snapped Dan. "You've nailed Aunt Pike fast to the house with it, and it will takemore than we can do to get her away again. "

"What be saying of, sir?" asked Jabez, bewildered, and suddenlyrealizing that their sombre faces and manner meant something more thanusual. "Mrs. Pike--"

"Father is going to send and ask Aunt Pike to live here, and it's yourfault, " said Betty concisely. "It was your complaining about Dan thatdid it. "

Jabez gasped. He knew the lady well, and preserved a vivid recollectionof her former visit. "She hain't a-coming visiting here again, is she, sur?" he groaned. 

"Visiting! It's much worse than that, a thousand times worse. She iscoming here for good, to manage all of us--and you too!" they gasped. 

Jabez dropped helpless on to an upturned bucket, the picture of hopelessdejection. "There won't be no peace in life no more, " he said, "and Ishan't be allowed to show my nose in the kitchen. I'd have had my old'ead scat abroad every day of my life and never have told rather thanI'd have helped to do this. Was it really me telling on 'ee, sur, thatmade the master settle it so?"

"Yes, " nodded Dan, "that finished it. "

Jabez groaned again in sheer misery. "I dunno, I'm sure, whatever mademe take and do it. I've stood so much more from all of 'ee and never somuch as opened my lips. I reckon 'twas the weather made me a bitpeppery like--"

"It was fate, " interposed Kitty gravely. "It must have been something, for sure, " breathed Jabez, with a dreary shake of his head. 

"Make haste and get Prue harnessed, " said Kitty, "or the storm willbegin before we start, and then father won't let me go;" and Jabez, withanother gloomy shake of his head, rose from the upturned bucket andproceeded with his task. 

CHAPTER III. 

A DRIVE AND A SLICE OF CAKE. 

With one thing and another Jabez was so agitated as to be quiteincapable of hurrying, and Kitty, who could harness or unharness a horseas well as any one, had to help him. She fastened the trace on oneside, buckled up the girths, and finally clambered up into the carriagewhile Jabez was still fumbling with the bit and the reins. She caughtthe braid of her frock in the step as she mounted, and ripped down manyinches of it, but that did not trouble her at all. 

"Have you got a knife in your pocket, Dan?" she asked calmly; and Dannot only produced a knife, but hacked off the hanging braid for her andthrew it away. 

"I do wish I could go too, " said Betty wistfully. "I'd love to driveall over the downs at night, particularly if there was a storm coming. May I come too, Kitty?"

But Kitty, for several reasons, vetoed the suggestion. For one thingshe wanted to be alone with her father, to try her powers of argumentand persuasion against the summoning of Aunt Pike and Anna into theirmidst; for another, she felt that to be driving in the dark, andprobably through a storm, was responsibility enough, without the care ofBetty added; and she felt, too, that though her father might be inducedto let one of them go with him, he would, under such circumstances, shrink from the pleasure of their united company. 

"No, Bet, " she answered firmly, "you can't come to-night. I--I want totalk things over with father; but, " with sudden inspiration, "I tellyou what you can do, and it would be awfully sweet of you. You coaxFanny to get something very nice for supper by the time we come home, and see that Emily has the table properly laid, and that the glasses areclean, and that there are knives enough, and--oh, you know, all sorts ofthings. "

"I know, " said Betty, quite as delighted with the responsibility thruston her as she would have been with permission to go for the drive. 

Dr. Trenire came out presently with some letters in his hand, which hegave to Jabez. "Post those without fail, " he said, then mounted to hisseat. He was so absorbed, or bothered, or tired, that he did not atfirst observe Kitty's presence, or, at any rate, object to it; and whenhe did notice her, all he said was, "O Kitty, are you going to drive me?That is very good of you; but isn't it rather late for you?"

"No, father, " said Kitty, relieved by his tone. "I love driving bynight, and I--I thought it would rest you to have some one to drive. Perhaps you will be able to have a nap on the way. "

"I shouldn't be surprised if I did, " said her father, with a smile. "I feel as though my head is asleep already. Have we got the lamps?"

"Yes, I think everything is right, " and, gathering up the reins, off shedrove down through the street. 

Every one they met smiled and saluted them in some way, and Kitty smiledback, well pleased. To be perched up on the box-seat, with the reins inher hand, in a position of real trust, gave her the happiest thrillsimaginable. Horses, and riding and driving, were passions with her. 

At the bottom of the street they branched to their left, and went moreslowly up a steep hill, which wound on and on, gradually growing steeperand steeper, past villas and cottages and pretty gardens, until at lastall dwellings were left behind, and only hedges bordered the wide road;and then the hedges were passed too, and they were out on the opendowns with miles of rough level grassland stretching away on either sideof them, broken only by the flat white road along which they rolled soeasily. 

Up here, on this height, with nothing to intercept it, a little breezemet them. It was a very faint little breeze, but it was refreshing. Kitty drew in deep breaths of it with pleasure, for the closeness andthunderousness of the atmosphere were very trying. The sky overheadlooked heavy and angry, black, with a dull red glow burning through hereand there, while a hot mist veiled the horizon. 

For a time they drove on without speaking, Prue's regular footfalls, thenoise of the wheels, and the sharp, clear calls of the birds alonebreaking the silence. Kitty was thinking deeply, trying to summoncourage to make her earnest, final appeal, and wondering how to begin. 

"Father, " she began at last, "I--I wish you would give us one morechance--trial, I mean. We would try to behave better, really we would;and--and I will do my best to look after the house and the servantsproperly. I am sure I can if I try. There shall always be hot water, and--well, you see I feel it is all my fault, and I have brought it allon the others--"

Dr. Trenire came back with a start from his drowsy musings, and tried togather what it was that his daughter was saying, for she was ratherincoherent. Her voice shook at first with nervousness. "Eh, what?" hestammered. 

It was disconcerting to Kitty to find that he had not been taking in aword of what it had cost her such an effort to say. "I will do my bestto look after the house and the servants, " she repeated desperately, "if--"

"But I am afraid, child, you really don't know how. It is not in anger, Kitty, that I am making this new arrangement. I am doing it because Ifeel you have a task entirely beyond your power, and for all your sakesI must see that you have an orderly and comfortable home, and--"

"It won't be _comfortable_, " said Kitty pathetically. "It will never bethat any more. "

"You must not begin by being prejudiced against your aunt, " reasoned herfather gently. 

"I am not, father, really; we are not prejudiced, " she answered; "but weknow, and--and every one else knows that--that--well, when I told Jabezwhat was going to happen, he sat down on a bucket and he looked--helooked at first as though he were going to faint, and then as though hewould leave. I feel nearly certain he will not stay, I really do, father. Aunt Pike was always down on him. "

Dr. Trenire felt a little uneasy. He hated changes amongst his servantswhen once he had grown used to them, and Jabez was a faithful andvaluable one in spite of his peculiarities. "You should have thought ofall this sooner, " he said, rather crossly, "and not have made such astep necessary. "

"But--but, father, if we promise now, and really mean it, and begin atonce, and--and--" Kitty was so excited she could hardly get her wordsout, for she had quickly caught the signs of wavering in her father'svoice and manner. Already she felt as though victory were near. "Anyhow, father, give us six months, or even three months more, just tolet us show that--"

With an exclamation, Dr. Trenire leaned forward and pulled the rightrein sharply. "Take care, child, " he cried; "you will have us over ina moment. You have almost got this wheel over the edge of the ditch. You _must_ learn to attend to the business in hand, or you will neversucceed in anything. Another inch and you would have upset us, andprobably have broken a spring. "

Dr. Trenire's nerves were on edge, and he spoke more sharply than wasusual with him. Kitty felt that she had made a bad beginning, herspirits sank, and she lapsed into silence. But when they were once morebowling smoothly along, her father's thoughts returned to her appeal. 

"I am afraid it is too late now, " he said gently, sorry for hismomentary irritability. "I have already written to your aunt. "

Kitty turned a stricken face to him, and her hold of the reins loosenedagain. "Written to Aunt Pike--already!" she gasped. "Oh!" But hoperose again a moment later. "But you haven't posted it?"

"Yes, I have. At least, I gave it, with some others, to Jabez to post. It will have gone by the time we reach home. "

"Oh, how dreadful!" Kitty's fingers tightened on the reins. Her impulse was to turn and drive back furiously to try and interceptthat fatal letter. "Father, do let me just drive quickly back and stopit, " she pleaded; but her father shook his head. 

"I must get on to see Sir James as speedily as I can. It would take usnearly an hour to go home and reach this far again; the old gentlemanwould think I wasn't coming to-night. Look at the sky, too; we must tryand get to Welland, if not home again, before the storm bursts. It willbe a bad one when it comes, and anything but pleasant or safe to bedriving through over an exposed road such as this; and even now I amafraid it will be dark before we get home. "

Kitty knew that; but everything seemed trifling in comparison with thisaffair of Aunt Pike, and she drove on in a state of mutiny and miseryvery hard to bear, until by-and-by another comforting thought came toher. If she could not recall that letter, perhaps she could induce herfather to write another to her aunt, telling her that after all he hadmade other arrangements, and that there was no occasion to trouble her. She would not say anything about it now though, and presently otherthings occurred which helped to banish for the moment this particulartrouble from her mind. 

By the time they reached Welland it was very nearly dark, and Kitty feltnot a little nervous as she guided Prue through the gate leading intothe Manor grounds; for the turning was an awkward one, and the gate notwide. She managed it, however, and drove along the drive and drew upbefore the door in quite a masterly fashion. 

"I had better light the lamps by the time you come out, " she said to herfather as he got down from the carriage; but before he could tell herthat One of the stablemen would probably come and see to the lamps andPrue too, the hall door was opened by an anxious-faced maid. 

"We are glad you have come, sir, " she exclaimed. "The master seems verybad, and the mistress is very anxious. "

"I will be with your master in a moment, " said the doctor cheerfully;then, turning again to Kitty, "Hadn't you better come inside, dear?You--"

"Oh no, " cried shy Kitty, to whom the suggestion was full of horror. "Oh no. I would _much_ rather stay here, please, father. It is coolernow, and I am very comfortable;" and Dr. Trenire, understanding hernature, let her have her way, and followed the impatient maid to thesickroom. 

Kitty, greatly relieved, was fastening the reins to the splashboardbefore getting down to light the lamps, when a man appeared around thecorner of the house, and came towards her. 

"You had better go inside, miss, hadn't you?" he said, speaking asthough he were bidding her to go rather than asking her a question. "I'll look after the mare. "

"Thank you, " said Kitty decisively, "I would rather stay here. "

"I think we'm going to have a storm, and you'll get wet through beforethe doctor comes out. I reckon he'll be some time. "

Kitty felt strongly inclined to say she would like nothing better thanto get wet through, and that she preferred sitting out in a storm toanything else in the world. Why couldn't people let her do as she likedbest? It seemed to her that it was only for her to want to do onething, for every one to conspire to make her do another. And howaggravating it was to have the man glued to Prue's bridle all the time, as though Prue ever needed holding, or Kitty were absolutely incapable!He was not at all a pleasant man; he spoke very sulkily and neversmiled. She wished for his departure even more fervently than he, shefelt, was wishing for hers, but she could not summon up courage to tellhim to go, nor could she get over her irritation with him sufficientlyto talk to him. So there they stayed in gloomy silence, and Kitty, toadd to her annoyance, was made to feel that she was acting foolishly, and ought to have done what she particularly objected to doing. 

"Oh!"

A sudden vivid flash of lightning drew the exclamation from her, andmade even quiet old Prue toss her head; and immediately after the flashcame a violent peal of thunder just above their heads, so violent thatit seemed as though the heavens themselves were being rent and shakenand the house tumbling about them. Then came a quick patter, patter, patter, swish, swish, and a storm of rain descended on them. 

"If you'll get out, miss, and go into the house, I'll take the mare andthe carriage round and put them under shelter, or the cushions andthings'll be soaking wet by the time the doctor comes out. "

There was a tone in the man's voice that Kitty could not ignore, thoughshe disliked him intensely for it--the more so, perhaps, because shefelt that he was in the right. He addressed her as though she were alittle wilful child, whose foolishness he had endured for some time, butwas not going to endure any longer. 

Kitty was _so_ annoyed that for a moment she felt that nothing wouldinduce her to dismount, and that if he chose to put the carriage undershelter he could take her there along with it; but the prospect ofhaving to endure his society the whole time made her pause, and whileshe paused the hall door was opened, and a lady appeared, peering outinto the darkness. Standing outlined against the lighted hall Kittycould see her distinctly, while she, her eyes dazzled for the moment bythe light, could see nothing. 

"Did Dr. Trenire bring one of his little girls with him, Reuben?"

"Yes'm. "

"Do come in at once, child. Which is it? Kitty?"

"Yes, " answered Kitty reluctantly. 

"Then do come in. Whatever makes you stay out in the storm?" cried LadyKitson. 

Kitty obediently, but most unwillingly, scrambled down from her seat. Even from the carriage, and through the darkness, she could see howcharming and dainty Lady Kitson was looking. She had on a soft, flowinggray silk gown, with white lace about her shoulders and arms, and herbeautiful golden hair gleamed brightly in the lamplight. Kitty, atsight of her, suddenly realized with overwhelming shame that in her zealto drive her father and make her appeal, she had neither brushed her ownhair nor washed her hands, nor changed her old garden hat or morningfrock. She was, she knew, as disreputable-looking and untidy a daughteras any father could feel ashamed of. 

"How stupid of me--how stupid of me, " she thought, full of vexation withherself, "when I knew I was coming here, too. "

There was nothing to be done, though, but to go in and live through thisordeal as best she might. "Why do these things always happen to me?"she groaned miserably. "If I had wanted very much to go in, and had hadon all new beautiful clothes, I should have been left out here to spoilthem. I wish father would come; he must have been gone quite half anhour, I am sure, and Sir James can't want him any longer. "

In the hall Lady Kitson held out a delicate white hand, with sparklingrings on her fingers, and took Kitty's grubby one in hers. Some personsmight not have noticed the roughness and stains and marks made by thereins, but Kitty knew that Lady Kitson did. Her keen eyes missednothing, and probably before very long she would be retailing to Dr. Trenire all his daughter's shortcomings, and the crying necessity forsending her away to a good boarding-school at once. 

None of the Trenire children liked Lady Kitson, though they could hardlyhave told you why. Poor Kitty felt now that she disliked herexceedingly. 

"Come into the drawing-room; the girls are there. "

"The girls" were Lady Kitson's step-daughters. They were both of themolder than Kitty, but were inclined to be very friendly. The Trenirechildren, though, did not respond much to their advances; they foundthem uninteresting and silly, and never felt at home with them. The truth was, they had no tastes in common, and probably never wouldhave. 

Kitty felt glad of their presence now though, for anything would bebetter, she thought, than to have to sit for a long time with LadyKitson alone. At least she felt glad until, having been directed to alow easy-chair facing them all, she suddenly caught sight of the twojagged ends of braid hanging from the front breadth of her dress--thebraid Dan had hacked off with his knife. Both ends hung down two orthree inches, and no eye could avoid seeing them. From them her glancetravelled to her shabby old shoes, the spots on her frock, her hands. Her face flushed a fiery red and her eyes filled. Not for anyconsideration could she at that moment have raised her eyes. She knew, she felt those gimlet glances, the looks and meaning smiles that werebeing exchanged, and she writhed under them, while her heart felt veryfull and sore. She could not talk, her mind was weighed down. In herembarrassment she could think of nothing to say, and her hostesses wereapparently too absorbed to make an effort either. Moment after momentof overwhelming wretchedness dragged by. 

"I shall never, never forget this, " thought Kitty, "all the rest of mylife. It will make me miserable whenever I think of it. "

At last, to every one's relief, Lady Kitson went upstairs to join herhusband, and with her departure some, at least, of the stiffness wasremoved. 

"Aren't you hungry?" asked Lettice, the elder of the two girls. "I am sure you must be after that long drive. "

"No, thank you, " said Kitty soberly. 

"Oh, I think you must be. --Maude, do go and ask Parkin to give us somecake for Kitty. Be sure and say it is for Kitty. "

"Can't you go yourself?" asked Maude. "Parkin is in a fearful temperwith me because I told mother about her giving things to Reuben. "

"Bother! You are always rubbing the servants the wrong way. I let themdo as they like, for the sake of keeping them amiable. I am awfullyhungry, and so is Kitty, if she would only admit it; but if she refusesto, I suppose I must go hungry. "

"We shall have dinner soon, " said Maude sharply. "I should think youcould wait until then. "

"I will have some cake, if you really want me to, " said Kitty, lookingup at Lettice with a smile, the first she had been able to call to herlips. She liked Lettice the better of the two girls. 

"Will you?" cried Lettice delightedly. "Then I will go and ask forsomething nice for you. I am sure Parkin will give me something if Ipromise her my little pansy brooch;" and off she went, returning amoment later with a plateful of huge slices of orange cake. 

Kitty looked at the slices in dismay. "I can't eat a whole one, " shesaid. "I shouldn't have time either, for I expect father will be downsoon. "

"Nonsense! you must. There is no knife to cut them smaller, " criedLettice, already making marked inroads on a slice herself. "Quick, takesome, or I shall drop the plate. "

Kitty unwillingly did as she was told, only to regret it bitterly as, atthe first mouthful, a shower of crumbs descended on the polished floor. After that experience it took her so long to make up her mind to take asecond bite, that just as she did so voices were heard outside the door, the handle was turned, and Lady Kitson, followed by Dr. Trenire, enteredthe room. At the first sounds Lettice had seized the plate of cake andmade a hasty exit through the conservatory, but for Kitty there was nosuch escape. 

"Well, dear, are you ready to face the storm?" asked her father, smilingdown at her. 

"I think I must lend you a wrap of some sort, " said Lady Kitson. "I suppose you have none?"

Kitty, her mouth full of cake and one hand grasping the remainder, triedto swallow it hastily that she might reply, and, of course, choked. As she often remarked afterwards, the misery of that visit would nothave been complete without that final blow. Covered with shame andconfusion, she rose awkwardly from her chair, looking about her for someplace whereon to deposit that dreadful cake. There was none. The tables were covered with books and frames, vases and ornaments, butthe vases were full of flowers, and there was not even a friendlyflower-pot saucer. There was nothing for her to do but carry it withher. 

"Don't hurry, " said Lady Kitson politely; "stay and finish your cake. "

"I can't, " said Kitty desperately. 

She could not even say "thank you. " In fact, there seemed so little togive thanks for that it never entered her head to do so. 

"Then we will start at once, " said her father briskly; and to herimmense relief she soon found herself, her farewells said, mounting oncemore the dear homely carriage. With the reins between her fingers, andthe responsibility on her of driving through the storm and darkness, some of her courage and self-respect returned, but not until she hadflung that wretched cake far from her into the darkness. 

"I shall hate orange cakes all the rest of my life, " she thought. 

"It was kind of Lady Kitson to take you in out of the storm, " remarkedher father absently. 

"Was it?" she questioned doubtfully. "I suppose it was. But--anothertime I--I would rather stay out in the very worst storm that ever was, "she added mentally. "Nothing _could_ be worse than what I have gonethrough, and what I shall feel whenever I remember it. "

CHAPTER IV. 

STORMS AT HOME AND ABROAD. 

Time might soften Kitty Trenire's recollections of that embarrassingvisit of hers, but it could never dim her remembrance of the drive homethat night over that wide expanse of moorland which stretched away blackand mysterious under a sky which glowed like a furnace, until both wereilluminated by lightning so vivid that one could but bow the head andclose the eyes before it. A gusty wind, which had sprung up suddenly, chased the carriage all the way, while the rain, which came down insheets, hissing as it struck the ground, thundered on the hood drawnover their heads, but left their vision clear to gaze in wondering aweat the marvels which surrounded them. 

Dr. Trenire presently took the reins from Kitty, and tucking her well upin the wrap that had been lent her, left her free to gaze and gaze herfill. Prue did not relish the din and uproar in the heavens, theflashing lightning, or the rain beating on her; but though she shook herhead and flapped her long ears in protest, she stepped out bravely. 

When they came at last to the houses and the more shut-in roads the wildbeauty was less impressive, and Kitty's thoughts turned with pleasure tohome and dry clothes, and the nice meal Betty had undertaken to have inreadiness for them. How jolly it all was, and how she did love herhome, and the freedom and comfort of it. 

The first sight of the house, though, decidedly tended to damp herpleasant anticipations, for there was not a light to be seen anywhere. All the windows were gaping wide to the storm, while from more than onea bedraggled curtain hung out wet and dirty. 

Dr. Trenire drove straight in to the stable-yard, expecting to have togroom down and stable Prue himself. But Jabez had changed his mindabout going home and early to bed, and was there ready to receive them. At the sight of his bandaged head Kitty's thoughts flew to the events ofthe day, to Aunt Pike and the fatal letter, and she simply ached withanxiety to know if Jabez had posted it or not. 

While she was waiting for an opportunity to ask him Dr. Trenire solvedthe difficulty for her. 

"Have you posted those letters I gave you, Jabez?" he asked, with, as itseemed to Kitty, extraordinary calm. 

"Oh yes, sir, " said Jabez cheerfully, very proud of himself for hisunusual promptness. "I went down with 'em to once. When there's ahubbub on in the kitchen I'm only too glad to clear out. "

For once Dr. Trenire did not appear particularly pleased with hisassiduity, and Kitty turned dejectedly away. The letter, the fatalletter, was gone, her hopes were ended, fate was too strong for them. And to add to her trouble there had been a hubbub in the kitchen, whichmeant a quarrel. Oh dear, what could be the matter now? Emily was in abad temper again, she supposed. Emily generally was. 

As she went up to her room to change she met Emily coming down, andwhatever else she might be in doubt about, she was in none as to thesigns on Emily's face. It was at "very stormy, " and no mistake. 

"I am wet through, " said Kitty brightly, hoping to smooth away thefrown; "but oh it was grand to see the storm across the downs. I did enjoy it. "

But Emily was not to be cajoled into taking an interest in anything. "I'm glad somebody's been able to enjoy themselves, " she said pertly, and walked away down the stairs. 

Poor Kitty's brightness vanished. Was there never to be anything butworry and unpleasantness? All her excitement, and interest, andhopefulness evaporated, leaving her depressed and dispirited. The memory rushed over her of former home-comings, before the dearmother died; the orderly comfort, the cheerfulness and joy which seemedalways to be a part of the house in those days; and her eyes grew mistywith the ache and loneliness of her heart, and the sense of failurewhich weighed her down. There rose before her that dear, happy face, with the bright smile and the ready interest that had never failed her. 

"O mother, mother, " she cried, "I want you so, I want you so!Everything is wrong, and I can't get them right. I am no use to anyone, and I--I don't know how to do better. "

The hot tears were brimming up and just about to fall over, when flyingfootsteps sounded on the stairs--Betty's footsteps. Kitty closed thedoor of her room, though she knew it was of no use. It was Betty's roomtoo, and nothing, certainly not a mere hint, could keep Betty out; andshe sighed, as she had often sighed before, for a room of her very own, for some place where she could be alone sometimes to think, or read, ormake plans, or hide when the old heartache became too much for her. 

But Betty shared her room, and Betty had every right to walk in, andBetty did so. She was quiet, and vouchsafed no account of her doings, but she was quite calm and unperturbed. 

"What has made Emily in such a bad temper?" asked Kitty wearily. 

"Emily always is in a bad temper, isn't she?" asked Betty placidly. "I don't take any notice of her. " Then with some slight interest, "What did she say to you?"

"She didn't _say_ anything, " answered Kitty, "but she looked temper, andwalked temper, and breathed temper. Have you got a nice supper for us?I am starving, and I am sure father must be. "

Betty did not answer enthusiastically; in fact, she gave no real answerat all, but merely remarked in an off-hand manner, "I shouldn't havethought any one could want much to eat in this weather. "

"Is it ready?"

"I don't know. "

"Well, will you go down and see, and tell them to take it in at once ifthey haven't done so? I know father wants his supper. "

"I--think, " said Betty thoughtfully, "--p'r'aps you had better goyourself. Fanny said--Fanny's manners are awful; I think father oughtto send them both away--"

"What did Fanny say?"

"Fanny told me--well, she said she would rather I--didn't go into thekitchen again--yet. "

Kitty groaned. "What have you done to vex them both so, Betty?"

"I only tried to see that the table was nicely laid, and everything justas you told me; and because I took out all the glasses and told Emilythey were dirty, she got as cross as anything; and they really weredirty, for I showed her all the finger-marks, so it wasn't as if I wascomplaining about nothing. If I'd 'cused her wrongly I shouldn't wonderat her getting mad; but I hadn't, and she couldn't deny it. The forkswere dirty too; at least I showed her six that were. "

Without any comment Kitty left the room and descended to the kitchen. All the way she went she was dreading what she should find when she gotthere, and wondering how she should best approach matters, and it was arelief to her on opening the kitchen door to find that Fanny was alone. Fanny was looking cross enough at that moment to daunt any ordinarycourage, but, somehow, Kitty never felt as alarmed of her as of Emily. 

"Well, Fanny, " she began, intending to ignore the hints and rumours thathad reached her, "we have got back. We were wet through nearly, and nowfather and I are longing for our supper. Have you got something verynice for us?" She tried to speak cheerfully, but it cost her a greateffort. 

Fanny took up the poker and made an attack on the stove. "You neverordered nothing, Miss Kitty, and 'tisn't my place to say what you shouldhave. "

"Oh but, Fanny, you generally do, " said Kitty, half inclined to beindignant at Fanny's injustice, for she could not help remembering howFanny, as a rule, resented any attempt on her part to order or arrangethe meals. She knew, though, that her only chance now was to bepatient, and to ignore a good many things. "And you manage so well, somuch better than I can. " She felt she must say something to restorepeace and amiability, if they were to have any supper at all that night, and not incur greater disgrace than she had already. 

"I don't want to boast, " said Fanny, "'tisn't my nature to do so, but ifI'm gived a free hand, well--I can turn out a passable meal; but whenone doesn't like this and the other doesn't like that, and nothing I dois right, and there's nothing but rows and squabblings in the kitchen, and no peace nowhere--well, I gives it all up! P'r'aps somebody elsecould manage better. "

Fanny's voice rose more and more shrilly. Poor Kitty's head by thistime was aching badly, and her nerves were all on edge. "Fanny, what_is_ the matter?" she asked despairingly. "What has happened whilewe've been away? I thought we were coming home to a nice comfortablemeal and a happy evening, and when we drive up the house is all dark, and the rain beating in at the windows. Emily is in a fury, and--and ohit is all so miserable. I--I'd rather be out alone on the downs in thestorm without any home at all, or--or--" Here Kitty's voice faltered, and once more the tears brimmed up in her eyes--a most unusualoccurrence with her; but the events of the day, the storm, and thedifficulties that beset her, were proving too much for her. 

Fanny, hearing the break in her voice, looked round quickly, just intime to see the tears, the white, tired face, and the look of dejection. "Why, Miss Kitty, " she cried, her soft heart touched at once, "don't 'eetake it like that. Why, 'tisn't nothing to fret about; it'll all comeright again, my dear, " and she put her big red arm round her littlemistress, and drew her head down to rest on her shoulder. But Kitty, completely overcome now, shook her head mournfully. 

"No, it won't, Fanny; it is too late now. Aunt Pike is to come and livehere to look after us. Father says we must have some one, and--and Ithink he is right. I don't seem able to manage things, everything goesjust as I don't want it to, " and the tears brimmed over again and fellon Fanny's shoulder. 

"Mrs. Pike!" gasped Fanny. "Mrs. --Pike--coming here--for good! Oh my!Miss Kitty, you don't really mean it!"

"Yes, I do, " groaned Kitty. "It is really true. Father has written toher, and--oh I never dreamed such a thing _could_ happen, or I wouldhave tried and tried to be more careful. It must be fate, though, aswell as our bad managing, for I've never before known Jabez post aletter when he was told to; but he must have gone right down to the postat once with the one to Aunt Pike that sealed all our fates. If hehadn't I do believe I could have got father not to send it, or at leastto give us another chance. "

Fanny shook her head solemnly. "It do seem like it, " she groaned. 

"What has happened while I have been out, Fanny? Has Betty been rude toEmily?"

"Well, you see, Miss Kitty, " said Fanny, anxious to tell, but softenedsufficiently to wish to make the best of the matter, "Miss Betty is sotackless. Emily's temper really wasn't so bad till Miss Betty kep' onwith her. So soon as Emily had put the things on the table for supper, Miss Betty 'd bring them all out again one by one, and put them downbefore Emily, and every time she'd say, in that way she's got, 'Emily, that glass is filthy; you must wash it at once. I wonder you ain'tashamed to lay the things in such a state. ' When she brought out thethird lot Emily got mad, and when Miss Betty come out with the forkstoo--well, the storm bursted. Emily was cheeky, I don't deny, and MissBetty was rude, and I had to tell 'em at last that they must go out ofthe kitchen if they was likely to go on like that. I wasn't going tohave my place turned into a bear-garden. "

"Emily shouldn't have put down dirty things, " said Kitty, loyal to hersister. "She is always doing it, and she ought to know better. "Her sympathies were all with Betty. She may have been "tackless, " asFanny called it, but however kindly Emily had been told of hercarelessness she would have been certain to fly into a rage; and theyhad put up with so much from her without complaining, that no one couldaccuse them of being fidgety or captious. 

As a matter of fact, Emily, who needed a very firm mistress of whom shewould stand in awe, should have been sent away long before. Kitty couldnot manage her at all, and as she thought of all they had endured dailyat Emily's hands, she felt almost thankful that soon the management ofher would fall to Aunt Pike's lot. 

"Did you say, Miss Kitty, that the master had asked Mrs. Pike to comehere to live altogether, to look after us?"

Kitty nodded despairingly. After all, the managing of Emily seemed buta very trifling advantage to weigh against the Pike invasion and allthat would follow on it. "O Fanny, " she sighed brokenly, "if only--ifonly mother were alive! Nothing has gone right since, nor ever willagain; and I feel it is almost all my fault that Aunt Pike has got tocome, and--and--"

"Now don't take on like that, Miss Kitty, " said Fanny, sniffing audibly, and not entirely able to throw off a sense of her own guilt in thematter. "'Tisn't nothing to do with you, I'm sure. If things _'as_ tobe, they _'as_ to be, and we'll manage some'ow. I'm going to set aboutgetting a nice supper so soon as ever I can. I think we'm all low withthe thunder and the 'eat, and we'll be better when we've had some food. Now don't 'ee fret any more, that's a dear, " and she wiped Kitty's eyesand then her own on her very soiled apron, but Kitty bore it gladly forthe sake of the warm heart that beat beneath the soiled bib. 

"Thank you, Fanny; you are a dear, " she said gratefully; "and I will goand light some lights about the house by the time father has done withthat patient he has in with him now. "

Kitty had a great idea of making the house bright and cheerful, but inher zeal she forgot the heat of the night. 

"Phew! my word!" gasped Dr. Trenire as he came presently to thedining-room. "Why, children, how can you breathe in this atmosphere?I have been turning down the gas all the way I've come. But how nicethe table is looking, and how good something is smelling. I want somesupper pretty badly; don't you, little woman?" with a friendly pull atKitty's curls. 

Kitty was not hungry now, but she was delighted by her father'sappreciation, and she cut the bread very zealously, and passed himeverything she thought he could want. It was not until she had done allthat that the silence and the emptiness of the table struck her. "Why, where is Dan?" she cried. 

"And where is Anthony?" asked Anthony's father. 

Betty gave a little jump, but as quickly controlled herself again. "Oh, I'd quite forgotten about him, " she said calmly. "Tony is in bed. "

"In bed?" cried Dr. Trenire and Kitty at the same moment. "Isn't hewell?"

None of them had ever been sent to bed for being naughty, so thatillness was the only explanation that occurred to them. 

"Oh yes, he is all right; but I made him get under the feather-bedbecause of the lightning--"

"The what?"

"The lightning. They say it can't strike you if you are covered withfeathers, and of course I didn't want it to strike Tony, speshally withnobody here but me to--to take the 'sponsibility, " looking at her fatherwith the most serious face imaginable. "So I made him get into thespare-room bed, 'cause it's a feather-bed, and then I put all theeider-downs over him, and I expect he's as safe as can be. "

Dr. Trenire gave a low whistle and started to his feet. "Very thoughtful of you, child, " he said, trying not to smile, "and Iexpect Tony is safe enough, if he isn't cooked or suffocated. For mypart, I should prefer the risk to such a protection in this weather. I'll go and rescue him. " But Kitty had already flown. 

"I forgot to tell Kitty, " went on Betty thoughtfully, "that I think themoths have got into the eider-downs, such a lot of them flew out when Imoved the quilts. "

Dr. Trenire groaned. "I suppose the quilts have never been attended toor put away since we ceased to use them?"

"No, " said Betty gravely. "You see, if they are on the spare-room bedthey are all out in readiness for when we want them. "

"And for the moths when they want them, " sighed her father. "I expectthey will not leave much for us. "

Kitty, her father's half-jesting words filling her with a deep alarm, had meanwhile raced up to the spare room. Somehow, on this dreadfulday, anything seemed possible, certainly anything that was terrible, andshe remembered suddenly that the spare bedroom was the very hottest roomin the house. It was over the kitchen, and caught every possible gleamof sunshine from morning till evening. Also she knew Betty'sthoroughness only too well, and her mind's eye saw poor little Tonyburied deep and tucked in completely, head and all. 

The whole house was stiflingly hot. Kitty's own face grew crimson withher race upstairs, and when she opened the door of the spare bedroom theheat positively poured out; but a terrible load was lifted from hermind, for, mercifully, Tony's head was uncovered. He was the colour ofa crimson peony, it is true, but at any rate he was not suffocated, unless--Kitty stepped quickly forward and touched his cheek. It almostmade her sick with dread to do so; but the red cheek was very, very hotand lifelike to the touch, and at the same moment Tony opened a y pairof large sleepy eyes, and stared up at his sister wonderingly. 

"I'm not struck, am I?" he asked half nervously. "I am very hot, Kitty. Is it the lightning?"

"No, " said Kitty cheerfully, "it is feathers, " and she flung back thepile of quilts. "Poor Tony. Get up, dear, and come down and have somesupper. It is all ready, and father was wondering where you were. "

Tony slipped with grateful obedience from his protection and followedKitty, but rather languidly, it is true, for he was very hot andexhausted, and very rumpled, all but his sweet temper, which was quiteunruffled. 

"Is Dan come back?" he asked eagerly, as he crept slowly down thestairs. 

"Dan!" cried Kitty, stopping and looking back at him anxiously. She remembered again then that she had not seen Dan since her return. "Did he go out?"

"Yes, he went to catch some fishes for daddy's supper. He heard youtell Betty to have a nice one ready, and he said, 'There's sure to benothing nice in the house; there never is. I'll go and catch sometrout, ' and he went. Do you think he was out in all that funder andlightning?" Then, seeing Kitty's startled look, Tony grew frightenedtoo. "You don't fink he is hurt, do you, Kitty?" he asked anxiously. "You don't fink Dan has been struck, do you?"

But at that moment, to their intense relief, Dan himself crossed thehall. From his appearance he might have been actually in the stream, getting the trout out without rod or line. Water was running off hishat, his clothes, and his boots. Tony heard it squishing with everystep he took, and thought how splendid and manly it seemed. 

Kitty called out to him, but Dan did not stay to talk. 

"Where's father?" he asked, turning a very flushed but very triumphantface towards them, and waving his basket proudly. 

"In the dining-room, " said Kitty, and Dan hastened on. His face fell alittle, though, when he saw the table, and his father already eating. 

"I'm awfully sorry I'm late, " he said disappointedly. "I thought Ishould have been in heaps of time. I've got you some jolly fine trout, father. I meant them for your supper. Just look! Aren't theybeauties?" and he thrust his basket over the table and held it rightunder his father's nose. The mud and green slime dripped on tableclothand silver and on the bread, and even on Dr. Trenire's plate and thefood he was eating. 

The doctor's much-tried patience gave way at last. "Look at the messyou are making--all over my food too! Look at the filth you havebrought in!" he exclaimed angrily. "Take it away! take it away!What do you mean by coming into the room in that condition, bringing afilthy thing like that and pushing it under my very nose when you see Iam eating? And why, Dan, once more, are you not here and decently neat, when a meal is ready? It is perfectly disgraceful. Here am I, andsupper has been on the table I don't know how long, and only one of youis ready to sit down with me. Anthony is in bed, or somewhere else, Kitty is racing the house to find him, and you--I am ashamed of you, sir, for coming into a room in such a condition. You are perfectlyhopeless. Here, take away my plate, take everything; you have quitespoilt my appetite. I couldn't eat another mouthful at such a table!"and Dr. Trenire rose in hot impatience and flung out of the room. 

For a second Dan seemed unable to believe his ears, then without a wordhe closed his basket and walked away. He was more deeply hurt than hehad ever been in his life before, and his face showed it. Kitty andTony, hesitating in the hall, saw it, and their eyes filled with tears. "Throw it away, will you?" he said in a choked voice, holding out theunfortunate basket to Kitty. 

Kitty, knowing how she would have felt under similar circumstances, tookit without looking at him; instinctive delicacy told her not to. "Father didn't mean it, " she whispered consolingly. "You will come downand have some supper when you have changed, won't you?"

They were not a demonstrative family; in fact, any lavishly expressedsympathy or affection would have embarrassed them; but they understoodeach other, and most of them possessed in a marked degree the power ofexpressing both feelings without a word being spoken. 

Dan understood Kitty, but it was too soon to be consoled yet. "No, " hesaid bitterly, "I have had supper enough, thank you, " and hurried awayvery fast. 

It really did seem as if Kitty was not to reach the Supper-table thatnight. Telling Tony to go in and begin his meal, she flew off with thebasket, and, heedless of anything but Dan's request, was just about tofling it away--fish, basket, and all--when she paused. It was a verygood basket, and Dan had no other. Kitty hesitated, then opened it andlooked in. Six fine trout lay at the bottom on a bed of bracken and wetmoss, evidently placed so that they could look their best. The sight of Dan's little arrangements brought the tears to her eyes. No, she could not throw away what he had taken so much pride in. 

She turned back and went to the kitchen. "Fanny, " she said, "will youcook these for father's breakfast? Dan has caught them for him. "

"And fine and proud he was too, " said Fanny, looking in at Dan's catch. 

"He was, but he isn't now. I wish, " with a deep sigh, "we didn't alwaysdo things the wrong way. I wonder why nothing ever comes quite rightwith us?" Then she turned away hastily, that Emily, who at that momentcame into the kitchen, might not see the tears that would start to hereyes. 

When at last Kitty sat down to the meal which she no longer wanted, every one else had left the table. She was not sorry, for it saved herfrom having to make a pretence of eating, and left her free to indulgein her own moods. It gave her time, too, to think over all that hadhappened, and might yet happen. 

Before she went up to bed, though, she got a tray, and collecting on ita tempting meal, carried it to Dan's room. She hoped he would let herin, for she badly needed a talk with him, but just as she was about toknock at his door the murmur of voices within arrested her attention. Whom could Dan have got in there? she wondered in great surprise. Tony was in bed, and Betty was in her room. She listened more closely, and nearly dropped the tray in her astonishment, for the voice she heardwas her father's, and she had never before known him go to their roomsto talk to them. 

For a moment her heart sank with dread. Was he still angry? Was hescolding poor Dan again? he could hardly think so, for it was so unlikehim to be harsh or severe with any of them. 

Then, as the voice reached her again, though she caught only the tone ofit, and not a word that was said, she knew that all was right, and witha sudden lightening of her heart, and a sense of happiness, she quietlycrept away to her own room. All the time she was undressing shelistened alertly for the sound of her father's footsteps, but she hadbeen in bed some time before they passed down the corridor. "They mustbe having a nice long talk, " she thought, as she lay listening, in astate of happy drowsiness; and she was almost in the land of Nod when asudden thought turned her happiness to dismay, and drove all sleep fromher. 

"Oh!" she cried, springing up in her bed, "oh, how stupid of me!How perfectly dreadfully stupid of me!"

"Whatever is the matter?" demanded Betty crossly. "I was just beginninga most beautiful dream, and now you have sent it right away. "

"Never mind your dream, " groaned Kitty. "That's nothing compared withthat letter. I did mean to get him to write it to-night, and I wouldhave posted it, so that it could reach almost as soon as the other, and--and I _never_ did it, I never even asked him to write it, and nowthe post has gone, and--"

"Whatever are you talking about?" interrupted Betty impatiently. 

"Why, the letter to Aunt Pike, of course. I was going to coax father towrite another letter to her to-night, to say it was all a mistake, thatwe didn't want her, and--"

"Oh, that's all right, " answered Betty coolly. "Don't worry. I havewritten to Aunt Pike and told her all that, and I posted it myself tomake sure of its going. She will get it almost as soon as she gets--"

"Betty, you haven't?"

"Yes, I have, " said Betty quietly. "Why not? I am sure it was best to. Fanny wouldn't live with her, I know, and Jabez said it would be morethan his life was worth, and you know father hates changing servants, soI wrote and told her exactly all about it. I wrote quite plainly, and Ithink she will understand. "

"O Betty, you shouldn't have. What _will_ father say?"

"Father will be very glad, I think. He hates writing letters himself. "

"Um--m!" commented Kitty dubiously, but said no more, for at that momentDan's door was opened, and she heard her father's steps pass lightlyalong the corridor. 

A few moments later she slipped out of bed and carried Dan's tray to hisroom, but she did not go in with it. Her instinct told her that hewould rather she did not just then; so, laying it on the floor, shetapped lightly at his door, told him what was there, and crept back tobed again. 

"What a day it has been, " she thought to herself as she nestled downunder the cool sheet. "Yet it began like all the others. I wonder howall will end. Perhaps it won't be so bad after all. I hope thatBetty's letter won't do more harm than good. I shouldn't be at allsurprised, though, if it made Aunt Pike make up her mind to come. ButI'll try not to think about it, " and turning over on her pillow, Kittyhad soon forgotten Aunt Pike, Anna, torn braid, orange cake, and LadyKitson, and was once again driving dear old Prue across the moor withthe storm beating and roaring about them, only this time it was adreamland moor and a dreamland storm. 

CHAPTER V. 

IN WENMERE WOODS. 

"I could not think, for the moment, " said Kitty, sitting up in bed andclasping her knees, "why I woke with a feeling that something dreadfulhad happened. Of course it is Aunt Pike that is on my mind. 

"She needn't be, then, " said Betty, stretching herself luxuriously inher little bed. "My letter will settle all that worry. "

"Um!" remarked Kitty thoughtfully, with none of the confidence shownby her young sister. "If your letter doesn't make her come by the veryfirst train, it will only be because she missed it. I shouldn't be atall surprised to see her walk in, and Anna too. "

"You don't _really_ think she will?" Betty, struck by something inKitty's voice, had stopped stretching herself, and looked across at hersister. "Kitty, you don't really mean that? Oh no, of course youdon't; she couldn't really come to-day, she would have lots to dofirst--packing and saying 'good-byes. '"

"I should think she hadn't a friend to say 'good-bye' to, " said Kittynaughtily. "Any way, I am not going to worry about her. If she doesn'tcome--oh, it'll be perfectly lovely; and if she does--well, we will getall the fun we can beforehand, and after, too, of course; but we willtry and have some jolly times first, won't we? What shall we do to-day?I wonder if Dan has planned anything. "

What Dan's plan might be was really the important point, for accordingto him the others, as a rule, shaped their day. 

"I don't know if Dan has made any, " cried Betty with sudden alertness, "but I know what would be simply lovely. Let's spend the day in WenmereWoods, and take our lunch with us, and then have tea at the farm--hamand eggs, and cream, and cake, and--"

"Oh, I know, " interrupted Kitty; "just what Mrs. Henderson always givesus--"

"No, " interrupted Betty anxiously, "not what she always gives us; wewill have fried ham and eggs as well, because, you see, it is a kind ofspecial day. "

"Very well, we will if we have money enough. I wonder if Dan willagree. "

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, " clanged out the townclock viciously. Betty sprang up in bed at once. "It is time to getup, Kitty, " she said peremptorily. "We've got to do everything rightto-day, and be very punctual at meals, and very tidy and all that sortof thing, so that father will see that Aunt Pike isn't wanted. Do youthink he will be vexed when he knows about my writing to her?P'r'aps she won't tell. "

Kitty scoffed at such an idea. "Aunt Pike is sure to tell; but fatheris never _very_ angry. "

"But he might be, " said Betty wisely; "he looked so last night when allthe mud dropped on his plate; but, of course, this is different--thereis nothing very bad about my writing the letter. I did it to savehim trouble. "

"Perhaps you had better tell father so, " said Kitty dryly. "Honour bright, though, Betty, I really would tell him, and not let himfirst find it out from Aunt Pike. "

"Um!" ejaculated Betty thoughtfully, as she collected Kitty's sponge andbath-towel before departing to the bathroom. But there was nothing veryhearty in her tone. 

When she returned, looking very fresh and rosy, and damp about thecurls, she found Kitty sitting on the side of her bed, and still in hernight-gown. Hearing Betty's returning footsteps, she had managed to getso far before the door was flung open, but that was all. 

"Isn't it dreadful, " she sighed wearily, "to think that day after day, year after year, all my life through, I shall have to get up in themorning and go through all the same bother of dressing, and I--I hate itso. "

"P'r'aps you won't have to, " said Betty cheerfully; "p'r'aps you'll bea bed-lier like Jane Trebilcock, and you won't have to have boots, ordresses, or hats. "

But the prospect did not cheer Kitty very greatly. "I didn't say Ididn't want dresses and things. I do. I want lots of them, but I don'twant the bother of putting them on. "

"Well, they wouldn't be much good if you didn't put them on, " retortedpractical Betty. "I hate getting up too"--Betty never failed in herexperience of any form of suffering or unpleasantness--"but I try tomake it a little different every day, to help me on. Sometimes Ipretend the bath is the sea, and I am bathing; other times I only paddlemy feet, and sometimes I don't bath at all--that's when I am playingthat I am a gipsy or a tramp--"

"Betty, you nasty, horrid, dirty little thing!" cried Kitty, lookingshocked. 

But Betty was quite unabashed. "I've known you not wash either, " sheremarked calmly. 

Kitty coloured. "But--but that was only once when I forgot; that isquite different. "

"But I don't see that it is, " said Betty firmly. You are not cleanerbecause you forget to wash than if you don't wash on purpose. Hark!O Kitty!"

"What shall I do?" cried Kitty despairingly as the boom of thebreakfast-gong sounded through the house. "I haven't begun to dress, and--Fanny might have told me she was going to be punctual to-day. "

"P'r'aps she didn't know it herself, " said Betty, tugging away at hertangle of curls with a comb, and scattering the teeth of it in a shower. "I expect it is an accident. "

"Then I wish she wouldn't have accidents, " snapped Kitty. "It isawfully hard on other people. "

Try as hard as one may, one cannot bath and dress in less than fiveminutes. Kitty declared she could have done it in that time, if Dan hadnot had possession of the bathroom, and Betty had not used herbath-towel and left it so wet that no one else could possibly use it. 

"But I couldn't use my own, " protested Betty, when the charge wasbrought against her, "for I hadn't one, and of course I had to usesomething. "

When the discussion had proceeded for some time, Dr. Trenire looked upfrom his paper with a half-resigned air. "What is the matter, children?Haven't we bath-towels enough to go round? Kitty, you should tell mewhen things are needed. But never mind; your aunt will see toeverything of that sort now. "

"I don't think she will, " murmured Betty knowingly, but her father didnot hear her. Kitty felt too dismayed to speak; there was something sofinal in her father's tone, it made the coming of the dreaded aunt seemquite inevitable. 

"What are you children going to do to-day?" he went on kindly. "It is aglorious morning after the storm. You ought to be out as much aspossible, all of you. You should start as soon as you have finishedyour work with Miss Pooley. "

Miss Pooley was the governess who came daily from ten till one toinstruct them. At least she instructed them as often as she had theopportunity, but it very frequently happened that when she arrived shewas told that the children had gone out for the day, or even oftener alittle note to the same effect reached her, adding that as they would beengaged all day they wished to save her the trouble of coming fornothing. 

This morning they had intended to do the same thing. Kitty was to writethe note, and Tony to deliver it, but their father's remark, and hislook, touched their consciences. Dan, too, for some reason or another, was against it; he said he thought that after all it was a bit sneakyand underhand, and he wasn't going to have any more of it. Betty feltthe foundations of her world shake, and life bristled with newdifficulties; but Dan had said it, so no one questioned. After Dan hadput things in that light, Kitty suddenly realized that their conduct inthe matter had been neither honourable nor honest. 

"We will have our lessons and leave directly after, " she plannedcheerfully. "I will ask Fanny to let us have some food to take with usfor our dinner, and then we will go to the farm for tea, and come homein time for supper. Won't it be jolly! And we will have our dinnerdown by the river--by that dear little silvery, sandy beach, you know. "

"It sounds fine, " said their father, returning to the room just in timeto hear the arrangements. "I wish I could go too. "

"I wish you could, " cried Kitty. "Wouldn't it be fun to see fatherexploring the woods, and catching beetles and minnows, and paddling inthe river, and--daddy, can't you come, just this once?"

"No, child, there is no paddling for me to-day, or playing wild man ofthe woods or anything else. I have a long round in the morning, andanother in the afternoon. I have just been out interviewing Jabez. "

"Oh, " gasped Kitty, "I had forgotten Jabez. Of course he can't driveyou, his head is all bandaged. I will go, father; I'd love to driveyou. " And she meant it. She would quite readily have given up her dayin Wenmere Woods to go with him. 

Dr. Trenire laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder. "It is all right, dear; I shall have Jabez. He has discarded his bandages, and is quitepresentable. He says he took them off last night to have a look at thewound, and when he saw what a little bit of a place it was, he made uphis mind he wasn't going about with his head tied up for people to pokefun at him later on when they saw what he had been bandaged up for. Go and enjoy yourself, child, and tell me all about it to-night; and dotry to keep out of mischief, all of you. "

In the kitchen, when Kitty at last reached it, Fanny was making pasties;and when Fanny chose she could make a pasty to perfection. She madethem one each now with their initials on them, made of curly bits ofpastry, and promised to have them baked and ready by the time MissPooley was gone. Emily was in a good temper too. The prospect of beingfree from the children all day, and of having no meals to get for themtill supper, quite cheered her. She even, without being asked, cut themsome sandwiches, filled a bottle with milk, and produced a store ofapples, which she packed in their basket. When the children, havingescaped from patient, easy-going Miss Pooley, rushed out to the kitchenfor their pasties and milk, and found things in this unusually happystate, they marvelled at their good fortune, and accepted it thankfully. 

"Fanny and Emily are quite nice sometimes, " remarked Betty, as they leftthe house, "only the worst of it is you never know when they are goingto be. Sometimes they laugh at everything one says, and another timethey grumble. "

"To-day they are like people are when you are ill and they are sorry foryou, " said Tony, who had been puzzling himself for some minutes to knowhow to express what he wanted to. "I fink they are sorry for us 'causeAunt Pike is coming. "

"'O wise young judge!'" said Dan, "I shouldn't be surprised if you wereright. " Dan had begun to read Shakespeare, and was full of quotations. "It is rather like living in the shadow of the gallows. I expect peoplein the French Revolution felt as we do. "

"I don't feel the least little bit like French Revolutions, or gallows, or shadows, or even Aunt Pike and darling Anna, on such a glorious dayas this, " cried Kitty joyfully. "I can't think of them, and I am notgoing to--yet. Now, if you are all ready, let's race. "

Their way led them down a steep hill almost opposite their own house--a hill with just a house here and there on either side of it, and acarpenter's shop, whence wafted out a sweet, fresh scent of newly-cutwood. The children raced to the very foot of it, and then retracedtheir steps to gather up the fragments of the milk-bottle, which hadcome to grief within the first twenty yards. Then on they went again, past more cottages and sundry turnings, until at last they reached acurious old rough-and-tumble wharf on one side of the road, where thecoal which had been brought by train was piled up in great stacks forthe coalmen to take round presently in their carts. Here, too, wasdrawn up a train--one such as only those who lived in those parts haveever been privileged to see. It was composed of an old-fashioned squatlittle engine called the "Rover, " and a few open carriages, with seatsalong the sides for passengers, and some trucks for any goods that mightbe needed. 

No passengers occupied the seats at that moment; in fact, they weregenerally conspicuous by their absence, save once a year, when the wholeaccommodation was bespoken for the Brianite Sunday-school treat. The "Rover, " in fact, spent most of her noble life in drawing coal, clay, and sand up and down the seven miles which lay between Gorlay andWenbridge. It seemed a limited sphere, but only to the ignorant, whoknew nothing of her services to the dwellers by the roadside, theparcels she delivered, the boots she took to be mended and restoredagain to their owners, the messages she carried, and the hundred and oneother little acts of usefulness which filled her daily round. I say"her, " for to every one privileged to know her the "Rover" was a lady;one who deserved and received all men's deference and consideration, andthe gentlest of handling too. 

As Kitty and Dan lingered now by the gate to look at her, they sawDumble, the driver, lovingly passing a cloth over her, as though to wipethe perspiration from her iron forehead, while Tonkin, the fireman, stood leaning against her, with his arm caressingly outstretched. Behind Dan and Kitty, on the farther side of the road, grew a highhawthorn hedge, under the shelter of which was a seat where people satand sunned themselves by the hour, and at the same time gazed at thelife and bustle with which the wharf woke up now and then. There weretwo old men on the seat now. They touched their hats to Dan and hissister, and with a melancholy shake of their old heads sighed insympathy with Kitty as she cried, "O Dan, I wish we could all go bytrain, all the way to Wenbridge. It will be perfectly lovely down theline. "

But Dan seemed less eager than Kitty or the old men. "We shall reachthe woods before they do, if we walk on, " he said, moving away;"and there is such a lot to see on the way. "

Tony and Betty--who was carrying the basket because she felt she couldtrust no one else with it--were nearly out of sight, so Dan and Kittyhurried after them. One side of the road was lined by fields, the otherby houses, and at the foot of their gardens ran the railway line untilit emerged through some allotment gardens on to the open road, afterwhich, for a while, train and foot passengers, and sometimes a drover, with a herd of cattle, meandered along side by side in pleasant talk orlively dispute--the latter usually, when Dan was on the road--until, about a mile farther on, two more cottages, and the last, having beenpassed, the road came to an abrupt end, and only the railway was left, with a rough footpath along its edge, which pedestrians had worn forthemselves. 

The quartette wandered on contentedly, stopping when they pleased, andthat was every few minutes. Overhead the sky was a deep pure blue, andthe larks were singing rapturously; the sun shone brilliantly, drawingout the smell of the tar from the "sleepers, " and the scent from theflowers. Under the hawthorn hedges which bordered most of the way thepetals lay in a thick carpet. 

On one side of the road, just before it terminated, was a well, burieddeep in a little green cave in the hedge, while the pure water from itflowed generously over the floor of the cave, and ran in a never-failingstream along one side of the way, past the gardens of the cottages, fromwhich at one time a root or maybe a seed only of the "monkey plant" hadbeen thrown, and taking root had flourished and flourished until thestream now was hidden beneath a mass of lush green leaves and stemscrowned by tawny golden blossoms speckled and splashed with a deep richbrown. 

At the well a halt was always called, for the water of it had healingproperties, and from their babyhood the children had, as a matter ofduty, tested its powers by bathing their eyes; but to-day, as theystooped over it, a weird shriek in the distance brought them to theirfeet again. Then came a great racket, as though a pile of all the looseiron in the world were tumbling over, the ground vibrated, and the noisedrew closer and closer. 

"The 'Rover';" cried Dan. "She is coming! Here's sport! I'll duckthem. "

Betty's was the only hat that would hold any quantity of water, and shelent it gladly; but the brim was limp with age and hard wear, and abroad-brimmed straw hat at its best is not an ideal vessel from which tothrow water over a flying foe. The larger share of it Dan received inhis own shoes amidst the derisive laughter of his two intended victimson the engine; and so completely mortified was he that Dumble, for awonder, refrained from his usual revenge, that of squirting hot waterfrom the engine over him. 

Dan looked red and foolish, Betty was furious, Kitty wished they had letthe men alone, but at the same moment began to wonder how she couldavenge this humiliation they had put upon Dan. 

After this little episode they walked on again, and for a while verysoberly, Tony busily engaged in picking up stones and spars in search ofsome rare specimen that might please his father, Betty still clinging tothe basket, though her arm was aching with the weight of it. By thetime they at last reached the woods they were all rather tired anddistinctly hungry, but they were never too tired or hungry to be rousedto enthusiasm by the sight that met them there. No mere words candepict the charm and beauty of Wenmere Woods. No one can thoroughlyappreciate them who has not actually seen them. No one who has seenthem can forget them. To see them was to stand with a glad heart, speechless, wide-eyed, wondering, and thanking God for such a sanctuary, yet half incredulous that such a spot was real, was there always, untouched, undefiled, waiting for one. It might have been a fairyplace, that would fade and vanish as soon as one turned one's eyes away. 

The woods were of no great extent, the trees were of no great size, but, tall and graceful, they clothed the side of the hill without a breakdown to the very edge of the river which ran through a valley which wasfairyland itself, and on the opposite side stretched away, almost fromthe river's brink, up, and up, and up, until to all seeming they met thesky. Delicate, feathery larches and quivering birches they were for themost part, and here and there, underneath their spreading branches, wereopen spaces carpeted with wind-flowers and bluebells, primroses and wildorchids, while ferns, large and small, grew in glorious profusion, someas tall as Tony, others as fragile and tiny as a fairy fern might be. In other spots large lichen-covered rocks raised their heads out of atangle of bracken and bushes, while here and there, down by the river'sbrink, gleamed little bays of silver-white sand. 

In Dr. Trenire's library were several large bound volumes of Tennyson's"Idylls of the King, " illustrated by Gustav Dore, and Kitty had never adoubt in her mind that these were the woods the artist had depicted. There could be no others like them. Here Enid rode with Launcelot byher side; on that silvery beach, where the old bleached tree trunk layas it must have lain for generations, Vivien had sat at Merlin's feet. There, in that space carpeted by wind-flowers and primroses, QueenGuinevere and Launcelot had said their last farewells. 

To Kitty the whole beautiful spot was redolent of them. They had beenthere, ridden and walked, talked and laughed, loved, wept, and parted;and in that beauty and mystery and silence it seemed to her that someday, any day, they all would come again. They were only sleepingsomewhere, waiting for some spell to be removed. She was sure of it, assure as she was that King Arthur sat sleeping in his hidden cave, spellbound until some one, brave and good and strong enough, should findhim and blow a huge blast on the horn which lay on the table before him, and so waken him from his long magic sleep. In her heart of hearts shehad a secret conviction that some day she would find the magic cave, andDan it would be who would possess the power to blow the magic horn. 

She pictured herself dressed in flowing robes of white and gold, withher hair in long plaits reaching to her knees, riding away beside theking through those very woods, with the sunlight gleaming through thetrees and flashing on the water, and on her other hand would ride Dan inshining armour, a second Sir Galahad. She saw herself a woman, such abeautiful, graceful woman, with earnest eyes and gentle face. She saw aknight, oh! such a splendid, courtly knight, and he looked at her andlooked again, and--

A little way up the hill she sat alone, her chin on her hand, gazingdown at the sun-flecked river, the shining sand, the fairy-like trees, and saw it all as plainly as though it were then happening. She saw thegraceful steeds, richly caparisoned, daintily picking their way throughunderwood and rocks. A stick cracked somewhere near. Could they becoming? She hardly dared look about her lest she should bedisappointed. 

CHAPTER VI. 

TEA AT THE FARM. 

"Kitty, _are_ you coming, or _are_ you not? It is very mean of you tokeep us waiting all this time when you know how hungry we are!"

With a deep, regretful sigh and a little shake Kitty rose and made herway to the large flat rock by the water's edge, on which the others hadgrouped themselves in more or less easy attitudes, with the food as acentrepiece. Betty had spread a sheet of white paper, and on it hadarranged the pasties according to their length. 

"You need not have waited for me, " said Kitty, annoyed at having herdreams so broken in upon. "We have each got our own, and can eat themwhen we like. "

"But we never do begin until we all begin together, " said Bettyreproachfully, "It would seem dreadfully mean; besides, we want you tosay which is my pasty and which Dan's. The letter has been broken onone, and knocked right off another. I carried them ever and ever socarefully, so it can't be my fault. Don't you think this is meant for a'D, ' and that one"--holding out the largest--"without any letter at all, is mine?"

Dan felt so sure of getting his rights that he lay quite undisturbed, throwing bits of moss into the water, and left the others to settle thedispute. 

"No, I don't, " said Kitty, without the slightest hesitation. "Dan always has the largest, whether there is a letter on it or not, andyou always have the smallest but one. "

Betty accepted the decision without dispute. She had really notexpected any other, but she liked to assert herself now and then. 

"I can't see, " she said musingly, "why you should be expected to wantless to eat if you are only ten than if you are twelve. It seems to meso silly. It isn't your age that makes you hungry. "

As a rule the others left Betty to find the answer to her own arguments, so she expected none from them. She got none now. They were all toobusy and too hungry to argue. Tony alone was not eating. He wassitting with his pasty in one hand, while the other one was full ofanemones that he had gathered on his way, intending to take them home toFanny; but already the pretty delicate heads had begun to droop, andTony was gazing with troubled eyes at them. He loved flowers so much hecould never refrain from gathering them, but the clasp of his hot littlehand was almost always fatal, and then he was grieved and remorseful. 

Kitty, watching him, knew well what was in his mind. He looked uppresently and caught her eye. 

"I think I would put them in the river, if I were you, dear, " she said. "You see we shan't get home for hours yet, and they will be quite deadlong before that. If you put them in the river they will revive. "

"Won't it be drowning them?" asked Tony anxiously. 

"No; they will float. "

"I know what I will do, " he said, cheered by an idea that had come intohis head. He laid down his pasty and trotted down to the edge of theriver. In the wet sand he made little holes with his fingers, put thestems in the holes, and covered them up as though they were growing;then, greatly relieved, he returned and ate his pasty contentedly. 

A pasty, even to a Cornish child, makes a satisfying meal, and when itis flanked by sandwiches, and apples, and a good draught of river water, there is no disinclination to remain still for a little while. The foursat on quietly, and talked in a lazy, happy way of the present, thefuture, and the past--of what each one hoped to be, and of Dan's careerin particular; whether he would go away to school, and where. Aunt Pikecame under discussion too, but not with that spirit of bitterness whichwould have been displayed at home, or before a less satisfying repast. Here, in the midst of this beauty and peace, everything seemeddifferent. Wrongs and worries appeared so much smaller and lessimportant--any grievance was bearable while there was this to come to. 

They talked so long that a change came over the aspect of the woods. The sun lost its first clear, penetrating brilliancy, and took on adeeper glow. Dan noticed it first, and sprang to his feet. 

"Let's move on, " he cried, "or it will be tea-time before we have doneanything. "

"If we are going to have ham and eggs for tea, " said matter-of-factBetty, "I think one of us had better order them soon, or Mrs. Hendersonmay say she can't cook them in time. "

The appeal did not touch them so keenly as it would have done had theirlast meal been a more distant memory. But, at the same time, the hamand eggs and cream tea was to be a part of their day, and they were notgoing to be deprived of it. So they clambered up through the woodsagain till they reached the railway line, and strolled along it untilthey came to the farm. 

Kitty, being the eldest, was chosen to go in and order the tea, whilethe others hung over the gate and sniffed in the mingled perfume of theroses, the pinks, and all the other sweet-scented flowers with which thelittle garden was stocked. Across the garden, in the hedge, was anothergate through which they could see a steep sunny field stretching awaydown to the river bank, which was steeper here and higher, with oldgnarled trees growing out of it, their large roots so exposed that onewondered how they managed to draw sustenance enough from the ground tosupport the great trunks and spreading branches. 

"I have ordered ham and eggs, and cream, and jam, and cake, " saidKitty, as she rejoined them, "and it will all be ready in an hour. It is three o'clock now. "

"Only three!" sighed Dan in mock despair. "One whole hour to wait!Will it take all that time to get it ready?"

"I think it is a good thing, " said Betty, "that we have to wait, for weare not _very_ hungry now--at least I am not; and you see we've got topay the same however little we eat, and it does seem a pity to waste ourmoney. "

"What a mind she has!" cried Dan, pretending to be lost in admiration. But at that same moment there once more reached their ears sounds as ofan approaching earthquake. 

"The train!" cried Betty, and seizing Tony's hand, drew him carefullyback close to the gate. 

Dan cast a hasty look around him for handy missiles. Kitty saw it, andknew what was in his mind. 

"Don't throw things at them, Dan, please! Think of yesterday, andJabez, and Aunt Pike. _Don't_ throw anything to hurt them. "

The "Rover" was lumbering nearer and nearer. The two men on it hadalready caught sight of the quartette at the gate, and were grinning atthem derisively. It really was almost more than any human boy could beexpected to endure. 

"Ha, ha!" jeered the men, as they lumbered by, "be yer boots dry yet, sir? Wonderful cooling to the brain a wet 'at is--cooling to the feet, too, sometimes!"

Dan's blood rose. He felt he simply had to throw something, or dosomething desperate. Betty's basket, still well supplied, was hangingon her arm close beside him. With one grab he seized the contents, andfirst an apple went flying through the air, then a paper packet. Tonkin, the fireman, caught the apple deftly; the packet hit Dumble onthe chest, and dropped to the floor. Dumble himself was too fat tostoop, so Tonkin pounced on it. The engine was at a little distancenow, and aim was easier. Another apple, well directed, hit Tonkin fairand square on the top of his head, while a third caught Dumble with nomean force full on his very broad nose, making him dance and shout withpain. 

As the engine disappeared round the bend, with the two men graspingtheir spoils and their bruises, Dan felt himself avenged, and the onecloud on his day was lifted. 

Kitty drew a deep sigh of relief that the episode was ended; Betty, oneof regret. 

"There were six large sandwiches in that packet, " she saidreproachfully, "and the apples were beauties. I wish now I had eatenmore. I am sure I could have if I had tried. "

Though there was plenty to do in the woods, that hour to tea-time seemedsomehow a very long one, and quite ten minutes before it was up theywere back at the farm to inquire if it was four o'clock yet. Mrs. Henderson smiled knowingly as she saw them gathered at the door, but she noticed that the eager faces were flushed and weary-looking, andshe asked them in to sit down and rest, promising she would not keepthem long. 

As they were to have "a savour to their tea" they were to have the mealin the house, instead of in the garden, and glad enough they were tosink into the slippery, springless easy-chairs, which seemed to themthen the most luxurious seats the world could produce--at least they didto Kitty and Dan, who took the only two; Betty got on the window-seatand stretched herself out; Tony, a very weary little man indeed, scrambled on to Kitty's lap; and all of them, too tired to talk much, gazed with interest about the long, low room. 

It was not beautiful, and they knew it well, yet the fascination of itnever failed. On the walls were hung large framed historical andscriptural scenes, worked in cross-stitch with wool's of the brightesthues, varied by a coloured print of a bird's-eye view of the battle ofTel-el-Kebir, an almanac for the current year, and a large oleograph ofa young lady und a dog wreathed in roses that put every flower in thegarden to shame for size and brilliancy. But none of these could give atithe of the pleasure the worked ones did; there was such fascination incounting how many stitches went to the forming of a nose, how many redand how many white to the colouring of a cheek, or the shaping of thehands, and fingers, and toes. 

"I didn't know that Robert Bruce had six toes!" said Betty, very solemnwith the importance of her discovery, her eyes fastened on arepresentation of that hero asleep in a cave, while a spider as large ashis head wove a web of cables across the opening. "Did you, Dan?"

"Didn't you?" answered Dan gravely. "Don't you know that in Scotlandthey have an extra toe in case one should get frost-bitten and dropoff?"

"Of course I know it is very cold up there, " said Betty, who was neverwilling to admit ignorance of anything; "but supposing two gotfrost-bitten and dropped off, what would they do then?"

Dan, pretending not to hear her question, strolled over to the bookcase. 

"Surely it must be tea-time!" he exclaimed. 

Betty, seeing that no answer was forthcoming, slipped from her seat toexamine more closely some wax fruit which, under a glass case, adorned aside-table. 

"I do think it is wonderful how they make them, " she said impressively;"they are so exactly like real fruit. "

Mrs. Henderson, coming into the room at that moment, heard the remark, and her heart was won. She had more than once had a suspicion that someof her visitors laughed at her treasured ornaments, and made jokes aboutthem, and the thought had hurt her, for her affections clung to them, and particularly to the was fruit, which had been one of her most prizedwedding gifts, so Betty's remark went straight to her heart. She beamedon Betty, and Betty beamed back on her. 

"You have such a lot of beautiful things, Mrs. Henderson, " she said inher politest manner. "I can't help admiring them. "

"It's very kind of you, I'm sure, miss. Of course we all get attachedto what's our own, specially when 'tis gived to us; and I'm very proudof my fruit, same as I am of my worked pictures. "

"I think they are wonderful, " breathed Betty, turning from the wax fruitto gaze at Eli and Samuel. "Did you"--in a voice full of awe--"really work them yourself, Mrs. Henderson?"

"I did, missie, every stitch of them, " said their owner proudly;"and all while I was walking out with Henderson. "

"While you were walking!" gasped Betty. "But how could you see whereyou were going?"

Mrs. Henderson laughed. "No, missie; I mean the years we was courting. "

"How interesting, " said Betty solemnly. "I think I shall work some formy house when I am married. Do you work them on canvas? Can I get itin Gorlay?"

"Yes, miss; but you needn't hurry to begin to-night, " said Mrs. Henderson, laughing. "If you want any help, though, when you do begin, or would like to copy mine, I'll be very glad to do what I can for you. "

"Oh, thank you very much. I should like to do some exactly like yours, "cried Betty excitedly. "Then, when I'm far away, they'll always remindme of you and the farm, and--and I'd like to begin with Robert Bruce andhis six toes, and--"

"You would never have patience to do work like that, " interrupted Dancruelly, "nor the money either; and I don't suppose you will ever go outof Gorlay. "

"You wait, " said Betty, very much annoyed by his humiliatingoutspokenness. "You wait"--with a toss of her head--"until I am grownup, then I shall marry some one, and I shall travel, and--"

"All right, " said Dan, "I will wait; and I hope I never have a headachetill it happens. "

CHAPTER VII. 

THE "ROVER" TAKES THEM HOME. 

Tony was nearly asleep on Kitty's shoulder, and Kitty herself wasdistinctly drowsy, but the arrival of the teapot and the ham and eggsroused them effectually. Kitty took her place before the tea-tray, Danbefore the hot dish, Betty got as near the cream as she could, and Tonydrew a chair close to Kitty, and very soon their spirits began to riseto their highest, and their tiredness vanished. The tea was refreshing, the ham and home-made bread and everything on the table were perfectlydelicious, and they ate, and ate, and talked and laughed until Kittywondered how it was that Mrs. Henderson did not come in and ask them tobe quiet. They had all, at the same moment, reached that mood wheneverything one says, or thinks, or does, sounds or seems amusing; andthey laughed and laughed without being able to check themselves, untilat last Kitty found herself with her head in the tea-tray, while Danhung limply over the back of his chair, and Betty and Tony laid theirheads on the table and held their aching sides. 

"Oh dear!" cried Kitty, straightening herself and trying to compose herface. "They say it is unlucky to laugh so much. I wonder if it istrue. It does seem hard, doesn't it?"

The thought sobered them a little, and they gave themselves up to theirtea. 

"I never know, " said Betty thoughtfully, after a somewhat long silence, "whether it is better to begin with ham and end with cream and jam, orto begin with cream and then have the ham, but it seems to me that it isjust the same whichever I do--I _can't_ eat much of both. I have triedand tried. "

"I call that a real affliction, " said Dan soberly. "Of course there isjust a chance that you may grow out of it in time, but it is hardlines. "

"Yes, " sighed Betty, "it really is, " and lapsed into quietness. "Another time, " she said at last, very gravely, "I think I shall cometwice, and not have both at the same tea. "

"Perhaps you would like Mrs. Henderson to save you some till to-morrow, "suggested Dan ironically. 

"No--o, " said Betty seriously, "I don't think I will. I don't expect Ishall want any more as soon as to-morrow, but--"

"You aren't feeling ill, are you?" asked Kitty anxiously, as she studiedBetty's face. 

"No--o, " answered Betty slowly, "not ill; but it's funny that what is sonice to think about before tea isn't half as nice after. "

"If I were you, " said Dan pointedly, "I would go and sit in the meadowfor a bit, and keep very still until it is time to go home. "

"I think I will, " said Betty gravely, and started; but they had allfinished their meal by this time, and following Dan's advice, strolledout once more to the scented garden, and down through the sloping meadowto the riverside. It was nearly time to wind their way homewards, butthey must have a little rest first, and one more look at the river andthe woods, so they perched themselves about on the old tree roots, whichformed most comfortable and convenient seats--all but Dan, who seemed toprefer to perch on a rock which stood in the middle of the river, whichwas shallower here and wider. To get to it he had to take off his shoesand stockings and wade, which perhaps made up for the uncomfortablenessof the seat when he reached it, and soon sent him wading back throughthe cool rippling water again. 

The handkerchiefs of the family having been commandeered in place of atowel, and Dan's feet clad once more, they all sat on in a state oflazy, happy content, playing "Ducks and Drakes, " or talking, until atlast Kitty, looking at the sky, saw with a shock that the sun wasalready setting, and realizing that they still had the long walk homebefore them, roused the party to sudden activity. 

They were all on their feet in a moment. "I think we had better get outon the road by this gate, instead of going back to the house again, " shesaid, hurrying towards one at the end of the field which brought them atonce out on to the road. 

"But hadn't you better pay Mrs. Henderson?" questioned Betty, as shepanted after her hurrying sister. 

"Oh!" Kitty stood still and gasped, "I had quite forgotten! How stupidof me! I am glad you remembered, Betty, " and they all streamed back tothe farm again and into the little garden, more heavily scented thanever now as the flowers revived in the dew and cooler air. 

Mrs. Henderson came out to them quite smilingly, and apparently not atall concerned about their debt to her. In her hand she was holding aflower-pot with a sturdy-looking little rose bush flowering in it. The children eyed it admiringly. It had two delicate pink roses in fullbloom on it, and several little buds. "I was wondering, missie, " shesaid, turning to Betty, and holding out the rose to her, "if you wouldbe pleased to have this little plant; 'tis off my old monthly rose thatI've had for so many years. I planted this one last year and it hascome on nicely. Would you be pleased to accept it?"

Betty gasped. For a moment she was so surprised and overjoyed as to bespeechless. "Me! For me!" she cried at last. "Oh, how lovely!Thank you _so_ much, Mrs. Henderson. I'll keep it always, and 'tend toit myself every day. I have never had a plant of my own before, and Ishall love it, " and Betty took her rose in her arms and hugged it inpure joy. 

"You have made Betty very happy now, Mrs. Henderson, " said Kitty, without a trace of envy in her heart. "Thank you for all you have donefor us. Good-night. "

"Good-night, and thank you for our fine tea, " said Dan, and one by onethey passed out of the scented garden, and on their homeward way. 

A soft evening mist was creeping slowly up over the river and thesloping meadow; the distant woods looked desolate, and almost awesome. Kitty could nut picture them now peopled as they had been in themorning, and her efforts to do so were soon interrupted by a littlepiteous voice beside her. 

"My feets do hurt me, " said Tony plaintively. "I s'pose I mustn't takeoff my boots?"

"Poor old Tony, " cried Dan. "Here, let me carry you, " and he hoistedhis tired little brother on to his shoulders. But Dan was tired too, and the way was long, and they had either to walk in single file alongthe tiny track worn beside the sleepers, or over the sleepersthemselves, and that meant progressing by a series of hops and jumps, which might perhaps be amusing for a few minutes at the beginning of aday's pleasuring, but is very far from amusing when one is tired and theway is long. The summer evening was warm too. 

"I wish the old 'Rover' would come along, " panted Dan at the end ofabout a quarter of an hour's march. "I'd get those fellows to give us alift for part of the way at any rate. "

"Oh, " sighed Betty, "how lovely that would be! But things don't happenwhen you want them to, do they?"

Miss Betty's sad and cynical view of life was wrong though, for not sovery much later the familiar rumbling and shaking, and puffing andrattling, reached their ears once more, and coming, too, from thedirection of Wenbridge. 

In a state of anxious excitement they all stood to await it. "Hadn't webetter hold up a pocket-handkerchief for a white flag to show them weare friendly?" asked Betty anxiously. 

"They wouldn't understand if we did, " said Dan impatiently. "They'd only think we were trying to frighten them. Kitty, if you goback towards them, holding up your hand, they will know it's all right. They will trust you. It's only me they are down on, really. "

Kitty went back at once, and fortunately, just as she was trying toattract their attention and make them understand that she had onlyfriendly intentions, they brought the engine to a standstill for Tonkinto get down and collect some faggots which lay beside the way. The engine snorted, and spit, and panted, and Dumble watched Kitty'sapproach with an eye which was not encouraging; but Kitty, though herheart was quaking a little, advanced bravely. 

"Dumble, " she called to him, in a friendly, conciliating voice, stretching up to him confidingly--"Dumble, we are _so_ tired. My littlebrother Tony can hardly get on at all, his feet are hurting him sobadly, and he is too heavy for Dan to carry all the way; and Dan istired too, and--and we wondered if--if you would give us a lift, evenif it is only for a little way. Will you?"

Dumble, his face rather flushed, straightened himself. "Look at mynose, miss, " he said meaningly. "Look at my nose, " pointing to thatpoor feature, which certainly looked red and swollen. "That's yourbrother's doings, heaving apples and not caring what he strikes with'em, and yet after that you can come and ask me to take 'ee all aboardof my train. "

"I am very sorry, Dumble, that you got hit, I am really, but--well, youdid get the apples and some nice sandwiches too, you know; and when youaim at Dan it is never with anything nicer than hot water, and you knowyou did really scald him once but he never told how it was done. "

Dumble looked rather foolish. "Didn't 'ee now?" he said, but his tonewas less indignant. "Yes, we had the apples, and fine ones they weretoo. Well, come along. Tell 'em all to look sharp and hop up, for 'tis'bout time we was to 'ome, and the 'Rover' put up for the night. "

Gladly enough the others obeyed her eager signals. Joyfully theyscrambled up into the high carriage and dropped on the dusty, grittyseats. Dan and his enemies exchanged broad, sheepish smiles, but theywere amiable smiles. Tonkin flung up the last of the faggots andclimbed up on the engine, and off they started. And _what_ a journey itwas! All about them stretched the country, vast and still and empty, they themselves, seemingly, the only living creatures in it, the pantingand rumbling of the engine the only sound to be heard, for it drownedall such gentle sounds as the "good-nights" of the birds, the distantlowing of cows, the rippling of the brook beside the way. 

Daylight was fading fast. Here and there the way was narrow, and thehedges so high that the hawthorns almost met overhead; and here andthere, where tall fir trees lined the road on either side, it was verynearly dark. 

By two of them, at least, that journey in the fading light was neverforgotten. It had been such a happy day, so free from worries andnaughtiness or squabbles, or any cause for regret; and now they weregoing home, happy but tired, and longing to be in the dear old untidy, shabby home again. Kitty, with Tony nestling against her, leaned backin her corner restfully, and thought of her home with a depth of feelingshe could not have defined. "If it could only be like this always, " shesaid to herself, "and there is no reason why it shouldn't if only wewere good and every one was nice. I wonder, I wonder if I cannot makeit so that father wouldn't want any one to live with us. "

On they rattled and jolted, past the two cottages, with their windowslighted up now and the blinds drawn; past the little well, its cavelooking dark and mysterious under its green canopy. Kitty, lost to theothers and their talk, gazed with loving eyes at everything. "Dear little well, " she thought. "Dear old 'Rover, ' and Gorlay, andhome, how I do love every inch and stick and stone of it! I think Ishould die if I had to leave--"

"Kitty, _have you got_ a shilling?" Dan shrieked in her ear with suchvigour that Kitty really leaped in her seat. 

"What _is_ the matter?" she demanded crossly. It was not pleasant to beroused from her musings and brought back thus to everyday, prosaicmatters; and it happened to her so often, or so it seemed. 

"I have asked you three times already. Have you got a shilling?We shall have to get down presently, or we shall be seen, and the menand all of us will get into a row because we are travelling withouttickets. We had better get down when they come to the 'lotment gardens, and we must tip them; but Betty has only got tuppence, and I have onlyfourpence, and that is all in coppers, mostly ha'pennies. I don't liketo offer it to them. "

"I haven't a shilling, " said Kitty regretfully. "I have only eightpenceleft; the tea cost a good deal, " and she produced from her purse asixpenny bit and two pennies. 

Dan looked at their combined wealth disgustedly. "They'll think we'vebeen saving up for this little go, " he said in a mortified voice;"but I'll give them the lot, and tell them it is all we have left. "

"I don't suppose they will mind ha'pennies, " said Kitty consolingly. 

"Of course they won't, " said Betty, who was rather cross at having tolay down her beloved rose and dive for her purse; "they aren't so silly. Besides, they have had our apples and sandwiches already. "

"Well, don't remind them of that again, " said Kitty anxiously, for itwas just the kind of thing Betty would do; but before she could extracta promise the engine slowed down and they hastily prepared to dismount. 

Dan coloured as he put the sixpenny bit and the coppers into Dumble'sgrimy hand. "I am sorry there's such a lot of pence, " he said shyly;"but it is all we've got left, and--and--"

"Aw, " said Dumble, who had expected nothing, and was rather embarrassedthan otherwise by their generosity, "thank 'ee kindly, sirs, and youngleddies; there wasn't no 'casion to give us nothing; but thank 'ee verymuch all the same, and 'nother time we'll be glad to 'blige 'ee with'nother lift. "

"Thank you very much, " said Dan. "But it isn't as much as it looks; itis only fourteen pence altogether. I--I thought I'd tell you for fearyou'd be disappointed;" and thankful for the darkness which hid hisembarrassment, he joined the others, and with many friendly"Good-nights" to the "Rover" they started on the last stage of theirjourney. 

Briskly enough they started; but their pace soon changed; their feetwere weary, and there was really no great need to hurry now. There would be no scoldings or punishments when they got home, even ifthey were late, for no one there was very particular as to time, andthere was so much to see that they did not usually see that they stoppedrepeatedly to look about them. The cottages were all lighted up now, and in some of them the blinds had been left undrawn and the windowsopen. Even the old wharf, too, had here and there a light gleaming outof its blackness, adding to the weird mystery of the place, and then inrattled the "Rover, " and drew up panting and throwing out deep breathsof steam and smoke and sparks, as though she had come at breakneck speedon urgent business from the extreme limits of the earth, and couldscarcely be restrained from starting off again. In the dim light theycould see Dumble and Tonkin wandering round and lovingly criticizingtheir fiery steed. "'Er 'ave gone well to-day, " they heard Dumblesaying proudly. "'Er 'ave gone like a little 'are. "

"Ay, ay, proper!" responded Tonkin with solemn emphasis. "Since 'er wascleaned I'd back 'er agin all the new-fangled engines in the world. Give the 'Rover' a fair bit of line to travel over, and 'er'll--well, 'er'll do it. "

The children chuckled to themselves and moved on. "To-night, with the'Rover' drawn up in it, it doesn't look quite so much like Quilp's Wharfas usual, " said Kitty, looking back lingeringly at the black, ramshacklecollection of old tarred sheds; "but I am sure I shall see Quilp's boystanding on his head there one day. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

A BAD BEGINNING. 

On again they went, past more cottages with groups of people gossipingat their doors, or sitting about on low steps or the edges of thepavement, enjoying the cool and calm of the summer evening; up the steephill where the milk-bottle had come to grief in the morning, past thecarpenter's shop, fast closed now, all but the scent of the wood, whichnothing could keep in. 

It was a stiff pull to the top for tired people, but it was reached atlast. With a deep sigh of satisfaction they crossed the quiet street inleisurely fashion to their own front door, where, summoning what energythey had left, they gave a friendly "whoop!" to let their arrival beknown, and burst into the house pell-mell; then stopped abruptly, almosttumbling over each other with the shock, and stared before them insilent, speechless amazement at a pile of luggage which filled thecentre of the hall. Betty stepped back and looked at the plate on thedoor to make quite sure that they had not burst into the wrong house;but Kitty, with a swift presentiment, realized to whom that luggagebelonged and what it meant, and her heart sank down, down to a depth shehad never known it sink before. 

Before she could speak, though, Emily appeared from somewhere, her facea picture of rage, offended dignity, and fierce determination; but assoon as she caught sight of the bewildered, wondering quartette, herwhole expression changed. She came to them, as Kitty said afterwards, as though there had been a death in the family and she had to break thenews to them. But it was an arrival she had to announce, not adeparture, and she announced it abruptly. 

"She's come!" she gasped in a whisper more penetrating than a shout; andher face added, "You poor, poor things, I am sorry for you. "

For once Emily's sympathies were with them, and even while staggeringunder the blow they had just received, Kitty could not help noticing thefact. 

"What?--not Aunt Pike?--to stay?" gasped Dan. 

Emily nodded, a world of meaning in the action. "You'd best go up andspeak to her at once, or she'll be crosser than she is now, if that'spossible. She's as vexed as can be 'cause there wasn't nobody to thestation to meet her, nor nobody here when she come. "

"But we didn't know. How could we? And who could have even dreamed ofher coming to-day!" they argued hotly and all at once. 

"A tellygram come soon after you'd a-gone, " said Emily, with a sniff;"but there wasn't nobody here to open it. And how was we to know whatwas inside of it; we can't see through envelopes, though to hear somepeople talk you would think we ought to be able to. "

Kitty knew it was her duty to check Emily's rude way of speaking of heraunt, but a common trouble was uniting them, and she felt she could notbe severe then. 

"Doesn't father know yet?" she asked. 

"No, miss. "

"Poor father! Has Aunt Pike really come to _stay_, Emily?"

"I can't make out for certain, miss; but if she isn't going to stay now, she is coming later on. I gathered that much from the way she talked. She said it didn't need a very clever person to see that 'twas high timesomebody was here to look after things, instead of me being with my 'eadout of win--I mean, you all out racing the country to all hours of thenight, and nothing in the house fit to eat--"

Kitty groaned. 

"I've got to go and get the spare-room ready as soon as she comes out ofit, " went on Emily. "A pretty time for anybody to have to set to tosweep and dust. "

Kitty, though, could not show any great sympathy there; having to sweepand dust seemed to her at that moment such trifling troubles. "Where isshe now, Emily?"

"In the spare-room. "

"Oh, the dust under the bed!" groaned Kitty. "She is sure to see it; itblows out to meet you every time you move!"

"Never mind that now, " said Dan; "it is pretty dark everywhere. But wehad better do a bunk and clean ourselves up a bit before she sees us, "and he set the example by kicking off his shoes and disappearing like astreak up the stairs. 

In another moment the hall was empty, save for eight very dirty shoesand the pile of severe-looking luggage. 

To convince Aunt Pike that her presence and care were absolutelyunnecessary was the one great aim and object which now filled them all, and as a means to this end their first idea was to dress, act, and talkas correctly and unblamably as boys and girls could. So, by the timethe worthy lady was heard descending, they were all in the drawing-room, seated primly on the stiffest chairs they could find, and apparentlyabsorbed in the books they gazed at with serious faces and furrowedbrows. To the trained eye the "high-water marks" around faces andwrists were rather more apparent and speaking than their interest intheir books. Their heads, too, were strikingly wet and smooth aroundtheir brows, but conspicuously tangled and unkempt-looking at the back. 

However, on the whole they appeared well-behaved and orderly, and theexpression of welcome their faces assumed as soon as their aunt washeard approaching was striking, if a little overdone. It wasunfortunate, though, that they and Emily had forgotten to remove theirdirty shoes from the hall, or to light the gas, for Aunt Pike, gropingher way downstairs in the dark, stumbled over the lot of them--stumbled, staggered, and fell! And of all unyielding things in the world to fallagainst, the corner of a tin box is perhaps the worst. 

The expression of welcome died out of the four faces, their cheeks grewwhite; Kitty flew to the rescue. 

"I'm jolly glad it isn't my luggage, " murmured Dan, preparing to follow. 

"She shouldn't have left it there, " said Betty primly. 

"I expect it's our shoes she's felled over, " whispered Tony in a scaredvoice. "I jumped over them when I came down, but I don't 'spect AuntPike could. "

Dan and Betty looked at each other with guilty, desperate eyes. 

"Well, you left yours first, " said Betty, anxious to shift all blame, "and you ran upstairs first, and--and we did as you did, of course. "

"Oh, of course, " snapped Dan crossly, "you always do as I do, don't you?Now go out and tell Aunt Pike that, and suck up to her. If she's goingto live here, it's best to be first favourite. " At which unusualoutburst on the part of her big brother Betty was so overcome that shecollapsed on to her chair again, and had to clench her hands tightly andwink hard to disperse the mist which clouded her eyes and threatened toturn to rain. 

But a moment later the entrance of Aunt Pike helped her to recoverherself--Aunt Pike, with a white face and an expression on it which saidplainly that her mind was made up and nothing would unmake it. Betty and Tony stepped forward to meet her. 

"How do you do, Elizabeth?--How do you do, Anthony? I should have goneto your bedrooms to see you, thinking naturally that you two, at least, would be in bed, but I was told you were still racing the country. Anna goes to bed at seven-thirty, and she is a year older than you, "looking at Betty very severely. 

"Is Anna here too?" asked Kitty, saying anything that came into her headby way of making a diversion. 

"No, she is not. She will join me later. We were just about to move toanother hydropathic establishment when your poor father's letter reachedme, and I felt that, no matter at what sacrifice on my part, it was myduty to throw up all my own plans and come here at once. "

"Then the postman must have missed my letter, " said Betty indignantly. "What a pity! for it would have told you we didn't want--I mean, itwould have saved you the trouble--"

"It was your letter, Elizabeth, which decided me to come, " said Mrs. Pike, turning her attention to poor Betty. "It reached me by the samepost as your poor father's, and when I read it I felt that I must comeat once--that my place was indeed here. So I confided Anna to the careof friends, and came, though at the greatest possible inconvenience, bythe next train. And what, " looking round severely at them all, "did Ifind on my arrival? No one in the house to greet me! My nephews andnieces out roaming the country alone, no one knew where! One maid outwithout leave, and the other--well, you might almost say she was outtoo, for her head protruded so far from her bedroom window that I couldsee it almost from the bottom of the street. "

"Emily _will_ hang out of window, " sighed Kitty. 

"And when I reprimanded her she was most impertinent. Is she always sowhen she is reprimanded, Katherine?"

"We--we don't reprimand her, " admitted Kitty. "I am afraid she would beif we did, " she added honestly. 

At that moment Dan burst into the room carrying a bottle. "If you putsome of this on the bruises, " he said, offering it to his aunt, "it'lltake the pain out like anything. Jabez has it for the horses, and I'veused it too; it is capital stuff. "

Mrs. Pike looked at the bottle with an eye which for a moment made Kittyquake, for Dan had brought it in with the fine crust of dirt and greaseon it that it had accumulated during a long sojourn in the coach-house. But something, perhaps it was Dan's thoughtfulness, checked the severeremark which had almost burst from her lips. 

"Thank you, Daniel, " she said, almost graciously. "If you will ask oneof the servants to clean the outside of the bottle, I shall be very gladof the contents, for I feel sure I have bruised myself severely. "

Betty was about to offer her pocket-handkerchief for the purpose whenshe remembered that she had not one with her, and so saved herself fromfurther humiliation. 

"At what hour do you dine--or sup?" asked Mrs. Pike, turning to Kitty. 

"We have supper at--at--oh, when father is home, or we--or we come home, or--when it is convenient. "

"Or when the servants choose to get it for you, perhaps, " said Aunt Pikesarcastically, but hitting the truth with such nicety that Kittycoloured. "Well, " she went on, "if you can induce the maids to give usa meal soon I shall be thankful, for I have had nothing since my lunch;and I really feel, with all the agitation and shocks and blows I havehad this day, as though I were nearly fainting. "

Poor Kitty, with a sinking heart, ran off at once, glad to escape, butoverwhelmed with dread of what lay before her. To her relief she foundthat Fanny had returned; but Fanny was hot with the first outburst ofindignation at the news that awaited her, and was angry and mutinous, and determined to do nothing to make life more bearable for any of them. 

In response to Kitty's meek efforts to induce her to do her best to makethe supper-table presentable, and not a shame to them all, she refusedpoint-blank to stir a finger. 

"There's meat pasties, and there's a gooseberry tart, and cheese, andcold plum-pudding, and cake, and butter and jam, " she said, enumeratingthing after thing, designed, so it seemed to Kitty, expressly for thepurpose of giving Aunt Pike a nightmare; "and I've got some fish for themaster, that I am going to cook when he comes, and not before. "

"O Fanny, do cook it for Aunt Pike, please. It is just the thing forher, and I am sure father would rather she should have it than that sheshould complain that she had nothing to eat--"

"Well, Miss Kitty, " burst in Fanny indignantly, "I don't know what _you_calls nothing. I calls it a-plenty and running over; and if what's goodenough for us all isn't good enough for Mrs. Pike, well--"

"It is _good_ enough, Fanny, " urged Kitty; "only, you see, we like itand can eat it, but Aunt Pike can't. You know the last time she washere she said everything gave her indigestion--"

"Them folks that is so afflicted, " said Fanny, "should stay in their own'omes, or the 'ospital. I'm sure master don't want patients indoors sowell as out, and be giving up the food out of his own mouth to them. The bit of fish I've got for master I'm going to keep for master. If anybody's got to have the indigestion it won't be him, not if I knowsit; he's had nothing to eat to-day yet to speak of, and if nobody elsedon't consider him, well, I _must_, " and with this parting thrust Fannyleft the kitchen to go to her bedroom. 

Kitty longed to be able to depart to her room too, to lock herself inand fasten out all the worries and bothers, and all thoughts of supperand Aunt Pike, and everything else that was worrying. "I wish I hadstayed in the woods, " she thought crossly; "there would be peace thereat any rate, " and her mind wandered away to the river and the littlesilvery bays, and the tree-covered slopes rising up and up, and shetried to picture it as it must be looking then at that moment, so still, and lonely, and mysterious. 

"I'll see that it all looks nice, Miss Kitty, " said Emily with unusualgraciousness. She felt really sorry for Kitty and the position she wasin, and having quite made up her mind to leave now that this new andvery different mistress had come, she was not only beginning already tofeel a little sad at the thought of parting from them all, but a livelydesire to side with them against the common enemy. She failed quite torealize that her past behaviour had reconciled Kitty more than anythingto the "enemy's" presence, and made her coming almost a relief. "I'll get Fanny to poach some eggs, or make an omelette or something. Don't you worry about it. "

Kitty, immensely relieved and only too glad to follow Emily's last bitof advice, wandered out and through the yard towards the garden. She felt she could not go back to the company of Aunt Pike again, for afew moments at any rate. 

Prue was standing with her head out of her window, anxiously wonderingwhere Jabez was with her supper. Kitty spoke to her and passed on. She strolled slowly up the steps, past the fateful garden wall and theterrace above to the next terrace, where stood a pretty creeper-coveredsummer-house. It was a warm night, and very still and airless. Kitty sat down on the step in the doorway of the summer-house, andstaring before her into the dimness, tried to grasp all that hadhappened, and what it would mean to them. She thought of their lazymornings, when they lay in bed till the spirit moved them to get up; ofthe other mornings when they chose to rise early and go for a long walkto Lantig, or down to Trevoor, the stretch of desolate moorland whichlay about a mile outside the town, and was so full of surprises--ofunexpected dips and trickling streams, of dangerous bogs, and stores offruits and berries and unknown delights--that, well though they knew it, they had not yet discovered the half of them. She thought of theirexcursions, such as to-day's, to Wenmere Woods, and those others toHelbarrow Tors. They usually took a donkey and cart, and food for along day, when they went to this last. Her mind travelled, too, backover their favourite games and walks, and what she, perhaps, loved bestof all, those drives, when she would have the carriage and Prue all toherself, and would wander with them over the face of the country formiles. 

At those times she felt no nervousness, no loneliness, nothing but pure, unalloyed happiness. Sometimes she would take a book with her, and whenshe came to a spot that pleased her, she would turn Prue into the hedgeto graze, while she herself would stay in the carriage and read, ordismount and climb some hedge, or tree, or gate, and gaze about her, orlie on the heather, thinking or reading; and by-and-by she would turnthe old horse's head homewards, and arrive at last laden withhoneysuckle or dog-roses, bog-myrtle, ferns, or rich-brown bracken andberries. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE COMING OF ANNA. 

The next week or two were full of change, excitement, and unrest. No one knew what the next day might bring forth, and the children neverfelt sure of anything. Any hour might bring a surprise to them, and itwas not likely to be a pleasant surprise--of that they felt sure. One of the changes decided on was that Dan was to go very soon--the nextterm, in fact--to a public school as a boarder. 

To all but Dan the news came as an overwhelming blow. Katherine andElizabeth, as their aunt persisted in calling them, considered it one ofthe most cruel and treacherous acts that Mrs. Pike could have beenguilty of. Of course they blamed her entirely for it. "Dan was to beturned out of his home-banished--and by Aunt Pike!" they told eachother. 

"I expect she will banish us next, " said Betty. "If she does, I shallrun away from school and become something--a robber, or a gipsy, or aheroine. "

But the cruellest part, perhaps, of the blow was that Dan himself didnot resent it. In fact, he showed every sign of delight with the plan, and was wild with excitement for the term to begin. To the girls thisseemed rank treachery, a complete going over to the enemy, and they feltit keenly. 

"I didn't think Dan would have changed so, " said Kitty dejectedly, asshe and Betty lay in their beds discussing the serious state of affairs. 

"I don't know, " said Betty darkly. "_I_ thought he was very odd thenight Aunt Pike came. First there was the rude way he spoke to me aboutmy making up to her, and then _he_ went and got that bottle ofembercation for her. _I_ called _that_ sucking up to her. "

"But Dan is always polite, " said Kitty, warm in defence of him at once. She might sometimes admit to herself that there was a flaw in herbrother, but she could not endure that any one else should see one;"and he is always sorry for people when they are hurt, and it was ourfault that she was hurt. "

"Yes, it was his fault really, " said Betty, whose memory was a goodone--too good at times, some said--"for he was the first to kick off hisboots and leave them there. "

"I know; but he didn't tell us to do the same. And you see we had allagreed to be polite to Aunt Pike, and you could have got the embrocationfor her if you had liked. "

"But I don't see why it should be called 'polite' if Dan does it, but'sucking up' if _I_ do it, " argued Betty. 

Kitty sighed. She often wished that Betty would not want thingsexplained so carefully. She never made allowances for changes of moodor sudden impulses. Kitty herself so constantly experienced both, thatshe could sympathize with others who did the same, and as she put it toherself--"What can you do if you feel sorry for a person that you hatedonly a little while before?"

Kitty could not understand the right and the wrong of these things, orwhat to do under such circumstances. She wished she could, for theymade her feel mean to one side or the other, and nothing was reallyfurther from her intention. 

The next arrangement made--and this was an even greater blow to themthan the "banishment" of Dan--was that Kitty and Betty were to go as daygirls to school, instead of having Miss Pooley to the house. 

The plan, being Aunt Pike's, would probably have been objected to in anycase; but to Kitty, with her shy dread of strangers--particularly girlsof her own age--the prospect was appalling, and she contemplated it witha deep dread such as could not be understood by most girls. 

Betty complained loudly, but soon found consolation. "At any rate, " shesaid, "we need not walk to school with Anna, and we needn't see as muchof her there as we should have to at home; and I think it will be ratherjolly to know a lot of girls. "

"Do you?" sighed Kitty, looking at her sister with curious, wonderingeyes, and a feeling of awe. "I can't think so. I can't bear strangegirls. " It seemed to her incredible that any one should _want_ to knowstrangers, or could even contemplate doing so without horror. She envied them, though, for being able to. "It must make one feel everso much more happy and comfortable, " she thought, "to have nothing to beafraid of. " She would have given a very great deal not to feel shy andembarrassed when with strangers, and to be able to think of something tosay to them. But she never could. Nothing that she had to say seemedinteresting or worth saying. Betty, with her self-confidence and fluenttongue, was a constant source of admiration to Kitty. 

"You will get on all right, " she said, with another sigh; "but I wasnever meant to go where there are other people. "

"That is why you've got to go. It is good for you; I heard Aunt Pikesaying so to father. She said you were growing up shy and _gauche_. I don't know what _gauche_ means; do you?"

"No, " said Kitty, colouring. "I expect I ought to, and I expect it issomething dreadful; but if I am happier so, why can't I go on being_gauche_?"

"Father said you were very shy, but he didn't think you were the otherthing--_gauche_. "

"Did he?" cried poor Kitty, brightening; but her face soon fell again. "Father doesn't notice things as quickly as some people do--Aunt Pike, and Lady Kitson, and others; and I expect they are right. It is alwaysthe disagreeable people and the disagreeable things that are right. Did Aunt Pike say the same thing of you?"

"No; she said I had too much--it was a long word--too much self--self--oh, I know, confidence--self-confidence. I don't know what it means, but I am sure I haven't got it; and if I have, " wound up Bettydefiantly, "I _won't_ get cured of it. Do you know what it means, Kitty?"

"Yes, " said Kitty thoughtfully, "I think I do; but I don't see how goingto the same school can cure us both. "

At the end of a few days Mrs. Pike went away to get Anna, and to collecttheir numerous belongings; and the doctor's household felt that it hadbefore it one week of glorious freedom, but only one. 

In anticipation of this, their last happy free time, the children hadmade plans for each day of it, intending to enjoy them to the utmost. Somehow, though, things were different. There was a shadow even overtheir freedom--if it was not there in the morning, it fell beforenight--and they returned home each day weighted with a sense ofweariness and depression. There was the shadow, too, of Dan'sdeparture, and a very deep shadow it was. 

"Things will never, never be the same again, " said Kitty sagely. "Dan won't know about all that we do; and when he gets a lot of boyfriends he won't care very much. "

There was also the shadow of their own school and the constantcompanionship of Anna, and this was a dense shadow indeed. 

"It wouldn't be so bad if she was jolly and nice, but it will be likehaving a spy always with us, " said Betty. "She will tell Aunt Pikeeverything. "

"You don't know, " said Dan, to tease them. "Anna may have grown upquite different from what she was, and be as jolly as possible. " But thesuggestion did not console the girls; to them it only seemed that Danwas already forsaking them, that this was but another step over to theenemy. 

"She couldn't be jolly, " said Betty firmly. "She wouldn't know how, andAunt Pike wouldn't let her if she wanted to. And even if she seemed so, I shouldn't feel that I could trust her. "

"Bosh!" said Dan emphatically. "One can always tell if a person is tobe trusted or not. "

"Well, I can tell that I shall _not_ trust Anna _ever_, " cried Bettyviciously, roused to deep anger by Dan's championship of Anna Pike. 

But Dan was not impressed. "Oh well, " he said, turning carelessly onhis heel, "if you are so narrow-minded and have made up your mind not tolike her, it is no use to say anything more. "

"I am not narrow-minded, " cried Betty hotly. "I don't know what youmean. "

"I don't suppose you do, " laughed Dan. "Never mind. Cheer up, Elizabeth, I will give you a dictionary on your birthday. "

"No, you won't, 'cause you won't have money enough, " said Betty; "and--and I wouldn't accept it if you got it. "

"I'll leave you my old one when I go to school, and I advise you tostudy it well before you go to Miss Richards's. It may save you fromputting your foot in it sometimes. "

"I wonder, " said Betty, with a sudden thought, "if it would tell me whatself-confidence is?"

"I can tell you that, " said Dan. "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh--oh, because--but tell me first what it means, and then I will tellyou--perhaps. "

"Well, it means--oh--you know--"

"No, I don't; and--and I don't believe you do either, " nodding her headvery knowingly at her brother. 

"Yes, I do, " cried Dan hotly. "It means having a too jolly good opinionof yourself, and thinking you can do anything. Now, tell me why youwanted to know. "

But Betty was walking away with her head held very high, and her cheeksvery red. "I think it is quite time you started for the station to meetAunt Pike and Anna, " she called back over her shoulder. 

"Don't be late, whatever you do. "

"But you are coming too, Bet, aren't you?"

"No, " she answered frigidly, as she closed the door, "I am not, " and toherself she added, with proud indignation, "After Aunt Pike's calling mesuch a name as that, I shouldn't think of going to meet her. "

Kitty, Dan, and Tony were on the platform when the train arrived. Their father had expressly wished them to go to meet their aunt andcousin, as he was unable to; so they went to please him, they told eachother. But they would put up with a good deal for the sake of a jauntto the station, and there really was some little anxiety and excitement, too, in their hearts as to what Anna would be like. 

When she had stayed with them before she had been a little fair, slightthing, with a small face, frightened restless eyes, and a fragile bodyas restless as her eyes. Anna Pike gave one the impression of being allnerves, and in a perpetual state of tremor. She was said to be veryclever and intellectual, and certainly if being always with a book was aproof of it, she was; but there were some who thought she did littlewith her books beyond holding them, and that it would have been betterfor her in every way if she had sometimes held a doll, or askipping-rope, or a branch of a tree instead. 

"She was rather pretty, I think, wasn't she?" said Kitty musingly, asthey strolled up and down the platform waiting for the train. 

"She was awfully skinny, " said Dan. 

"Will Anna be bigger than me?" asked Tony, who did not remember her. 

"Oh yes, she is as old as Dan, I think; but I always feel as though shewere older even than I am. She used to seem so grown-up and clever, andshe always did the right thing; and, oh dear, how dreadful it will be ifshe is still the same. "

Tony sighed. "I wish there was somebody little, like me, to play with, "he said wistfully; "somebody as young as me. "

"But, Tony darling, you don't feel you want some one else, do you?Why, we all play with you, " cried Kitty reproachfully. 

"Yes, I know; but you only pretend. You don't think things arereally-truly, like I do. "

"But I do, dear, I do, really; only yours are fairies and giants, andmine are knights and kings and ladies, " and her thoughts flashed rightaway from the busy station, with its brick platform and gleaming rails, the ordinary-looking men and women pacing up and down, and the noise andrattle of the place, to the quiet, still woods and hurrying river, withtheir mystery and calm, and to those other men and women pacing sostately amidst the silence and beauty. But Tony, tugging at her hand, very soon brought her abruptly back to her real surroundings. 

"It is coming! it is coming!" he cried. "I hear it. "

And a moment later, with a fast-increasing roar, the engine rounded thecurve, and gradually slowing down, drew up alongside the platform. 

Mrs. Pike was one of those persons who keep their seats until all otherpassengers have left the carriage, and make every one belonging to themdo the same; and Kitty and Dan had twice walked the whole length of thetrain, and were just turning away, not quite certain whether they feltrelieved or not at seeing no sign of their travellers, when they heard awell-remembered voice calling to them, and, turning, saw their auntstanding in a carriage doorway, beckoning to them as frantically as anarmful of parcels and bags would allow her. She retreated when she hadattracted their attention, and in her place there stepped from thecarriage a tall, lanky girl, who was evidently very shy and embarrassedat being thrust out alone to greet her strange cousins. 

It was Anna. Though she had grown enormously, they knew her in amoment, for the thin white face was the same, the restless eyes, thenervous fidgeting movements of the hands and feet and body. Her straight, light hair had grown enormously too; it was a perfect manenow, long, and thick, and heavy--too heavy and long, it seemed, for thethin neck and little head. Kitty eyed it enviously, though; her owndark hair was frizzy and thick as could be, but it never had grown, andnever would grow more than shoulder length, she feared, and she did soadmire long, straight, glossy hair. 

But when she looked from her cousin's hair to her cousin, a sudden senseof shyness came over her, and it was awkwardly enough that she advanced. 

"Ought I to kiss her, " she was asking herself, "on a platform like this, and before a lot of people? She might think it silly;" and while shewas still debating the point, she had held out her hand and shakenAnna's stiffly, with a prim "How do you do, " and that was all. 

Her aunt she had overlooked entirely, until that lady recalled herwandering wits peremptorily. "Well, Katherine, is this the way yougreet your aunt and cousin? Have you quite forgotten me? Come and kissus both in a proper manner. --Well, Daniel, how are you? Yes, I shall beobliged to you if you will go in search of our luggage;" for Dan, fearing that he, too, might be ordered to kiss them both, had shakenhands heartily but hastily, while uttering burning desires to assistthem by finding their boxes. --"Anthony, come and be introduced to yourcousin Anna. I dare say you scarcely remember her. "

Tony kissed his severe-looking cousin obediently, but his hopes of aplaymate died there and then. 

"Elizabeth, I do not see her!"

"No--o; she has not come, Aunt Pike, " said Kitty lamely. She feltabsolutely incapable at that moment of giving any reason why Betty hadabsented herself, so she said no more. 

"Anna was particularly anxious to meet her cousin Elizabeth, " continuedMrs. Pike. "Being so near of an age, she hopes to make her her specialcompanion. --Don't you, Anna?"

"Yes, mother, " said Anna, rubbing her cotton-gloved hands togethernervously, and setting Kitty's teeth on edge to such an extent that shecould scarcely speak. But somehow the enthusiasm of Anna's actions wasnot echoed in her voice. 

Dan, who had rejoined them, smiled to himself wickedly as he thought ofBetty's last speech about her cousin. 

"The porter is taking the luggage out to the omnibus, " he said. "Will you come out and get up?" He led the way, and they all followed. The big yellow 'bus with its four horses stood in the roadway outsidethe platform palings. The driver and conductor, who knew the Treniresquite well, beamed on them, and touched their hats. 

"I've kept the front seat for you, missie, " said Weller, the conductor, to Kitty, and he moved towards the short ladder placed against the 'busin readiness for her to mount. "Will the other ladies go 'pon top, too?" he asked; and Kitty, with one foot on the lower step, looked roundat her aunt to offer her her seat. 

"Katherine! Katherine! what _are_ you doing? Come down, child, at once. You surely aren't thinking of clambering up that ladder? Let Dan do soif he likes, but you will please come inside with Anna and me. "

Kitty's face fell visibly. She could hardly believe, though, that shehad heard aright. "I feel ill if I go inside, Aunt Pike, " sheexplained. "Father always lets us go on top; he tells us to. He saysit is healthier; and it is such a lovely evening, too, and the drive isbeautiful. I am sure you would--"

"Katherine, please, I must ask you not to stand there arguing in thatrude manner with me, " said Mrs. Pike with intense severity, "Get insidethe omnibus at once. I will speak to your father on the subject when Iget home. " And poor Kitty, so long mistress of her own actions, walked, bitterly humiliated, under the eyes of the many onlookers, and got intothe hot, close 'bus, where the air was already heavy with the mixedsmell of straw and paint and velvet cushions, which she never couldendure. 

"Anthony, you may go outside with Daniel if you prefer it, as the 'busis rather full inside, " said Mrs. Pike, stopping him as he clambered inafter Kitty. But Tony declined the offer. 

"I would rather go with Kitty, please, " he said loyally. "I'd--I'drather. " He had a feeling that by so doing he was somehow helping her. 

Kitty, with compressed lips and flashing eyes, took her seat. She didnot notice who was beside her; her only object was to get as far aspossible from her aunt, for, feeling as she felt then, she could notpossibly talk to her. 

"It is a _shame_ to make us go inside. It always makes me feel ill too;but I've always got to, " whispered a low, indignant voice through therattling and rumbling of the 'bus. With a start of surprise Kittyturned quickly to see who had spoken, and found that she had seatedherself beside her cousin Anna. 

For a moment Kitty stared at her, bewildered. It could not have beenAnna who spoke, for Anna was staring absorbedly out of the windowopposite her, apparently lost in thought, or fascinated by the scenerythrough which they were passing. But just as she had determined thatshe had made a mistake, a side-long glance from Anna's restless eyesconvinced her that she had not. 

"Are you feeling ill now?" asked Kitty, but Anna in reply only glancednervously at her mother, and bestowed on Kitty a warning kick; andKitty, indignant with them both, could not bring herself to addressanother remark to her. All through that long, wretched drive homeKitty's indignation waxed hotter and hotter, for she kept her gazestudiously on the window, and the glimpses she got of all the beautythey were passing through only served to increase it. Here the way laythrough the soft dimness of a plantation of young larches, their green, feathery branches almost meeting across the road; then came a long steephill, up which the horses walked in a leisurely way--quite delightful ifone were outside and able to gaze down at the glorious valley whichspread away and away below, until a curve in the road suddenly cut itoff from view, but infinitely wearying when every moment was spent in ahot, stuffy atmosphere, with nothing before one's eyes but the hedge orone's fellow-passengers. 

Oh the relief in such case when the top of the hill was reached, and thedriver stirred up his horses to a canter, and the heavy 'bus covered thelevel ground quickly and rumbled down the next steep hill at a goodpace. How Kitty did hate it all now, and how she did love itordinarily! Winter and summer, hitherto, she had always gone to and fromounted high up on the front seat, and knew every curve and corner, andhill and dip; but best of all, perhaps, did she love that quick run downthe steep hill, when the horses cantered along at their smartest, andthe 'bus came rumbling and swaying after them, as though at any momentit would break loose entirely and go its own wild way. And then wouldcome the demurer pace as they came to the town, and the narrow streetswhere sharp corners had to be turned carefully, and where, from the high'bus-top, one could quite easily see into the funny little rooms of theold houses on either side. Then came the main street--to the Trenirechildren fit to vie in breadth and beauty with any street in any city inthe world--and then home!

To Kitty it had always been the greatest joy to come home. No matterwhere she had stayed, or how delightful the visit had been, she hadalways been glad to get home again, and her heart beat faster, and herbreath caught with something that was not merely excitement or pleasure, at the sight of the low, broad old house in the bare, wind-swept street, that was the only home she had known, or wanted to know. But now, forthe first time, she felt no joy, only misery and indignation, and asense of hopeless, helpless resentment that all the old joy and freedomwas ended, that everything was to be altered and spoiled for them. 

By degrees the 'bus emptied of all passengers but themselves, and AuntPike drew nearer to Kitty. "I hope, " she said, "that things have goneon nicely while I have been away, and that the house has been kept in aneat and orderly fashion. "

Kitty did not answer for a moment, for the simple reason that she had noanswer to give. They had all been too much occupied in making the mostof their spell of freedom to observe how the house was kept. "I--Ibelieve so, " she stammered at last. 

"And I hope you have arranged a nice little meal for us, " went on Mrs. Pike, "to welcome Anna on her first arrival in her new home. I did notsay anything about it, as I thought it would be so good for you to havethe arranging of it. "

At this Kitty really did jump in her seat, and her heart beat fast withshame and dismay, for she had not only not arranged a "nice littlemeal, " but had never given a thought to any meal at all. 

It is fair to say she had never been told that it was left to her to doso. When first her aunt had come Kitty had handed over to her the reinsof government, willy-nilly, and she had not thought it her duty to takethem up again in Mrs. Pike's absence; but it is to be feared that in anycase she would not have prepared a feast of welcome for Anna. And theresult was that they would arrive tired and hungry after their long, hotjourney, and probably find no preparations at all made for them, nowelcome, not even food enough for a meal--certainly no special feast. 

Kitty had not been wilfully careless. She would have seen to things hadshe thought of it; but the obstinate fact remained that, if notwilfully, she had been culpably careless, and her heart sank with shame. She hoped--oh, how devoutly she hoped--that Fanny had been morethoughtful; but the prospect was slight, and for the rest of the way shesat in a perfect panic of dread and shame. 

The very moment the omnibus drew up before the house she sprang out ofit, and, regardless of what her aunt might think, rushed in and throughthe house to the kitchen. 

"O Fanny, " she cried, desperation in face and voice; but even in thatdistressful moment she remembered a former occasion when Aunt Pike'sarrival had thrown her into just such a frantic state, "what aboutsupper? Aunt Pike has asked about it, and I hadn't even thought aboutit; and--oh, what _can_ I do? I suppose there is nothing in the house?"

For a second or two Fanny went on calmly and deliberately with what shewas about. "Well, miss, " she said at last in her severest tone, "thereis something, and a plenty, thanks to me and Miss Betty. If there'adn't a been, it wouldn't 'ave been no manner of use to come rushingout to me now, when it's time for it to be on the table. Of course, when folks comes unexpected that's one thing, but--"

Kitty in her great relief did not heed Fanny's lecture in the least. "O Fanny, you are a dear, " she cried joyfully. "I will do something foryou some day. --Hullo! Betty, " for Betty at that moment came tiptoeinginto the kitchen. 

"'Twas Miss Betty as first thought of it, " said Fanny honestly. "I s'pose 'twould 'ave come into my 'ead some time, but I'm bound to sayit 'adn't till Miss Betty mentioned it. "

Betty beamed with pleased importance, but tried to look indifferent. "I wanted Aunt Pike to see that we do know how to do things. What isAnna like?" she broke off to ask anxiously. 

"She is like Anna exactly, " said Kitty bluntly, "and no one else; shenever could be. She'll never change, not if she lives to be eighty. Come along up, and get ready. Oh, I _am_ so glad you thought about thesupper, Betty dear. How clever you are! Aunt Pike would have thoughtworse of me than ever if you hadn't, and--"

"Um!" responded Betty, with a toss of her head, "perhaps if Aunt Pikeknew that if it hadn't been for me she'd have had no supper, shewouldn't say rude things about me again. I think it's awfully hard. If you don't do things you are scolded, and if you _do_ do them you arecalled too self--self-confidential. "

"I wouldn't mind what I was called, " said Kitty, as she hurried away toget ready, "as long as I could manage to do the right thing sometimes, and not always forget till too late. "

CHAPTER X. 

LESSONS, ALARMS, AND WARNINGS. 

The days that followed were strange and very trying. It was not at alleasy for any of them to settle down to the new life. Kitty, though, didnot feel the giving up of the keys and the _role_ of housekeeper as muchas she had expected to; for, in the first place, the keys had generallybeen lost, and in the second, she had never really "kept house" in thetrue meaning of the term, and it really was a great relief to find themeals appearing regularly and satisfactorily without any effort on herpart, or, perhaps, one should say, without any remorse, or occasion forremorse, for not having made any effort. 

It was really a comfort, too, not to have to try to manage the servants, or blame herself for not doing so. But, on the other hand, they allmissed their freedom dreadfully--their freedom of speech and act, theirfreedom in getting up and going to bed, in their goings and comings; forAunt Pike believed, quite rightly, of course, in punctuality and earlyrising, and keeping oneself profitably employed, and she disapprovedstrongly of their roaming the country over, as they had done, asstrongly as she disapproved of their sitting on garden walls, wanderingin and out of stables, coach-house, and kitchen, talking to theservants, or teasing Jabez. 

Jabez grew quite moped during the weeks that followed, for he was noteven allowed to come into the kitchen for a comforting cup of tea as ofold. "And if anybody can't have a bit of a clack sometimes, " groanedpoor Jabez, "nor a cup of tea neither, why he might so well be dumb toonce. I've ackshally got to talk to the 'orses and the cat to keep mypowers of speech from leaving me. "

Life seemed very dull and dreary to all the household, except, perhaps, to Mrs. Pike and Dr. Trenire. The latter was too busy just then torealize the changes going on in his home; while Mrs. Pike was fullyoccupied with all that lay at her hand to do. 

Anna's presence did not add at all to the liveliness of the house. She was shy and nervous. Of Dan she was, or pretended to be, quiteafraid, and if she happened to have blossomed into talk during hisabsence, she would stop the moment he appeared--a habit which annoyedhim extremely. To Betty, who was to have been her special companion, she showed no desire to attach herself, but to Kitty she clung in a mostembarrassing fashion, monopolizing her in a way that Kitty found mostirksome, and made Betty furious, for hitherto Kitty had been Betty'swhenever Betty needed her. Now she was rarely to be found without Anna. But Kitty, along with the others, never felt that she could trust Anna;and they could not throw off the feeling that they had a spy in theirmidst. 

And, worst of all, the beautiful summer days glided away unappreciated, and there were many bitter groans over what might have been had theybeen alone. They thought longingly of the excursions and picnics, thedrives, and the free happy days in the open that they might have had. 

"I do think it is so silly, " cried Betty, "to have one's meals always atthe same time, sitting around a table in a room in a house, when one canenjoy them _ever_ so much more if they come at all sorts of times, andin all sorts of places. "

"Oh, but it wouldn't be right to have them like that often, " said Annaprimly. "You would have indigestion if you didn't have your meals atregular hours. " Anna was always full of ideas as to what was right andgood for her health. 

"I didn't know I had an indigestion, " said Betty shortly, with a toss ofher head, "and you wouldn't either, Anna, if you didn't think so muchabout it. " Which was truer than Betty imagined. "I think it is a pityyou talk so much about such things. "

In September Dan went off to school. He was very homesick and not atall happy when the last day came--a fact which consoled Kitty somewhatfor all the pleasure and excitement he had shown up to that point. "If it hadn't been for Aunt Pike and Anna I believe he would have beenfrightfully sorry all the time, " she told herself, "instead of seemingas though he was quite glad to go. "

"You'll--you'll write to a fellow pretty often, won't you, Kit?" heasked, coming into her room for about the fiftieth time, and wanderingabout it irresolutely. He spoke in an off-hand manner, and made a showof looking over her bookshelves whilst he was speaking. But Kittyunderstood, and in her heart she vowed that nothing should prevent herwriting, neither health, nor work, nor other interests. Dan wanted herletters, and Dan should have them. 

But it was after he was gone that the blow of his departure was feltmost, and then the blank seemed almost too great to be borne. It was sogreat that the girls were really almost glad when their own schoolopened, that they might have an entirely new life in place of the oldone so changed. 

"Though I would rather go right away, ever so far, to a boardingschool, " declared Betty, "where everything and everybody would be quite, quite different. " But Kitty could not agree to this. It was quite badenough for her as it was; to leave Gorlay would be more than she couldbear. 

"Hillside, " the school to which they were being sent--the only one ofits kind in Gorlay, in fact--was about ten minutes' walk from Dr. Trenire's house. It was quite a small school, consisting of about adozen pupils only, several of whom were boarders; and Miss Richards (thehead of it), Miss Melinda (her sister), and a French governessinstructed the twelve. 

"It is not, in the strict sense of the word, a school, " Miss Richardsalways remarked to the parents of new pupils. "We want it to be'a home from home' for our pupils, and I think I may say it is that. "

"If our homes were in the least bit like it we should never want anyholidays, " one girl remarked; but we know that it is almost a point ofhonour with some girls never to admit--until they have left it--thatschool is anything but a place of exile and unhappiness, --though whenthey have left it they talk of it as all that was delightful. 

Amongst the boarders, and loudest in their complaints of all they had toendure, were Lettice and Maude Kitson, who had been placed there bytheir step-mother for a year to "finish" their education before they"came out. " It was a pity, for they were too old for the school, and itwould have been better for themselves and every one had they been sentamongst older girls and stricter teachers, where they would not havebeen the leading pupils and young ladies of social importance. They laughed and scoffed at the usual simple tastes and amusements ofschoolgirls, and, one being seventeen and the other eighteen, theyconsidered themselves women, who, had it not been for their unkindstepmother, would have been out in society now instead of at schoolgrinding away at lessons and studies quite beneath them. Their talk andtheir ideas were worldly and foolish too, and as they lacked the senseand the good taste which might have checked them, they were anything butimproving to any girls they came in contact with. 

Kitty had never liked either of the Kitson girls; they had nothing incommon, and everything Lettice and Maude did jarred on her. They seemedto her silly and vulgar, and they did little petty, mean things, andlaughed and sneered at people in a way that hurt Kitty's feelings. Yet now, so great was her nervous dread of the school and all thestrangers she would have to meet, she felt quite pleased that therewould be at least those two familiar faces amongst them. "And that willshow how much I dread it, " she said miserably to Betty the night before. "Think of my being glad to see the Kitsons!"

"Oh well, " said Betty cheerfully, "they will be some one to speak to, and they will tell us the ways of the school, so that we shan't looksilly standing about not knowing what to do. They won't let the otherstreat us as they treat new girls sometimes either, and that will be agood thing, " which was Betty's chief dread in going to the school. 

Anna expressed no opinion on the matter at all. She was more thanusually nervous and fidgety in her manner, but she said nothing; andwhether she greatly dreaded the ordeal, or was quite calmly indifferentabout it, no one could tell. 

But the feelings of the three as they walked to the school that firstmorning were curiously alike, yet unlike. All three were very nervous. Kitty felt a longing, such as she could hardly resist, to rush away toWenmere Woods and never be heard of again. Betty was so determined thatno one should guess the state of tremor she was in, lest they shouldtake advantage of it and tease her, that she quite overdid her air ofcalm indifference, and appeared almost rudely contemptuous. Anna, though outwardly by far the most nervous of the three, had her plansready and her mind made up. She was not going to be put upon, and shewas not going to let any one get the better of her; at the same time shewas going to be popular; though how she was going to manage it all shecould not decide until she saw her fellow-pupils and had gatheredsomething of what they were like. In the meantime nothing escaped hersharp eyes or ears. All that Kitty or Betty could tell her about theschool, or Miss Richards, or the girls, especially the Kitsons, shedrank in and stored up in her memory, and they would have beenastonished beyond measure could they have known how much her hastywandering glances told her, resting, as they did, apparently on nothing. 

Before the first morning was over she knew that Helen Rawson was admiredbut feared; that Joyce Pearse was the most popular girl in the school, and had taken a dislike to herself, but liked Kitty and Betty; thatNetta Anderson was Miss Richards's favourite pupil, and that she herselfdid not like Netta; and that Lettice Kitson was not very wise and notvery honourable, and that Maude was the same, but was the more clever ofthe two. 

To Betty the morning had been interesting, though alarming at times; toKitty it was all dreadful, and she went through it weighed down by agloomy despair at the thought that this was to go on day after day, perhaps for years. 

The most terrifying experience of all to her was the examination she hadto undergo to determine her position in the school. Anna was used toit, so bore it better, and to Betty it was not so appalling, but toKitty it was the most awful ordeal she had ever experienced. "Having teeth out is nothing to it, " she said afterwards, and her reliefwhen it was over was so intense that she thought nothing about theresult, and was not at all concerned about the position assigned her, until Anna came up to her brimming over with condolences, and apologies, and scarcely concealed delight. 

"O Katherine, I _am_ so sorry, but it _really_ wasn't my fault. I didn't know I was doing so well, and--and that they would put me inthe same class as you! Of course I thought you would be ever so muchhigher than me--being so much older. "

Kitty had scarcely realized the fact before, certainly she had not beenshamed by it, but Anna's remarks and apologies roused her to a suddensense of mortification, and Anna's manner annoyed her greatly. 

"Did you, really?" she said doubtingly. "Well, " proudly, "don't worryabout it any more. If you don't mind, I don't, " and she walked awaywith her head in the air. "I can't understand Anna, " she thought toherself; "she pretends to be so fond of me, but I feel all the time thatshe doesn't like me a bit really, and she will work night and day now toget ahead of me. " Which was exactly what Anna meant to do. "But, " sheadded, with determination, "I will show her that I can work too. "Which was what Anna had not expected; but for once she had overreachedherself, and in trying to humiliate Kitty she had given her the veryspur she needed, and so had done her one of the greatest possiblekindnesses. 

Betty, to her disgust and mortification, was placed in a lower classaltogether. She had not expected to be with Kitty, but she certainlyhad not expected to be placed below Anna, and the blow was a great one. "But I'll--I'll beat her, " declared Betty hotly. "I will. I don'tbelieve she is so awfully, awfully clever as they say, and nobody knowsbut what I may be clever too, only people haven't noticed it yet. I am sure I feel as if I might be. "

It was unfortunate, though, for the Trenire girls that Mrs. Pike hadsettled all the arrangements for their going to "Hillside;" it wasunfortunate for them too that Miss Richards and Miss Melinda placedunquestioning reliance on what was told them, and had no powers ofobservation of their own, or failed to use them, for it meant to themthat they started unfairly handicapped. Miss Richards was warned thatshe would find Dr. Trenire's daughters backward and badly taught, andentirely unused to discipline or control. "Of course the poor deardoctor had not been able to give them all the attention they needed, andhe was such a gentle, kind father, perhaps _too_ kind and gentle, whichmade it rather trying for others. It was to be hoped that dear MissRichards would not find the children _too_ trying. She must be verystrict with them; it would, of course, be for their own goodeventually. " "Dear Miss Richards" felt quite sure of that, and had nodoubt that she would be able to manage them. She had had much successwith girls. She was glad, though, to be warned that there was need ofspecial care--in fact, dear Lady Kitson had hinted at very much the samething. 

So the paths of Katherine and Elizabeth were strewn with thorns andstumbling-blocks from the outset, and, unfortunately, they were not thegirls to see and avoid them, or even guess they were there until theyfell over them. 

Anna, having been brought up under her mother's eye, was, of course, quite, quite different; Anna was really a credit to the care which hadbeen lavished on her. Miss Richards and Miss Melinda did not doubt it;they declared that it was evident at the first glance, and actedaccordingly. Which was, no doubt, pleasant for Anna, but, on thewhole, turned out in the end worse for her than for her cousins. 

Anna certainly had been well trained in one respect--she could learn herhome lessons and prepare her home work under any conditions, it seemed, and she always did them well. Kitty had an idea, a very foolish one, ofcourse, that she could only work when alone and quiet, say in herbedroom, or in the barn, or lying in the grass in the garden, or in thewoods. All of which was inelegant, unladylike, and nonsensical. Kitty must get the better of such ideas at once, and must learn herlessons as Anna did, sitting primly at the square table in the playroom. 

Anna learnt her lessons by repeating them half aloud, and making ahissing noise through her teeth all the time. The sound alone droveKitty nearly distracted, while the sitting up so primly to the tableseemed to destroy all her interest in the lesson and her power ofconcentrating her mind on the study in hand. 

"I can't learn in this way, Aunt Pike, " she pleaded earnestly; "I can'tget on a bit. I dare say it is silly of me, but my own way doesn't doany one any harm, and I can learn my lessons in half the time, andremember them better. "

"Katherine, do not argue with me, but do as I tell you. It is the rightway for a young lady to sit to her studies, and it will strengthen notonly your back-bone, but your character as well. You are sadlyundisciplined. "

So Kitty, irritated, sore, and chafing, struggled on once more with herlessons. But to get her work done she had, after all, to take her booksto bed with her, and there, far into the night, and early in themorning, she struggled bravely not only to learn, but to learn how tolearn, which is one of the greatest difficulties of all to those whohave grown up drinking in their knowledge not according to schoolmethods. 

Nothing but her determination not to let Anna outstrip her could havemade her persevere as she did at this time, and she got on well untilAnna, whether consciously or unconsciously she alone knew, interfered tostop her. 

"Mother! mother!" Anna in a straight, plain dressing-gown, her hair intwo long plaits down her back, tapped softly in the dead of night at hermother's door, and in a blood-curdling whisper called her name throughthe keyhole. 

Mrs. Pike roused and alarmed, flew at once at her daughter's summons. "What is the matter? Are you ill? I thought you were drinking rathermuch lemonade. Jump into my bed, and I will--"

"No, it isn't me, mother, I am all right; it's--it's the girls. I saw alight shining under their door, and I was so frightened. Do you thinkit's a fire?"

Considering the awfulness of that which she feared, Anna was curiouslydeliberate and calm. It did not seem to have struck her that her wisestcourse would have been to have first rushed in and roused her cousins, and have given them at least a chance of escape from burning orsuffocation. Now, too, instead of running with her mother to theirhelp, she crept into the bed and lay down, apparently overcome withterror, though with her ears very much on the alert for any sounds whichmight reach them. Perhaps she shrank from the sight that might meether eyes when the door was opened. 

Mrs. Pike, far more agitated than her daughter, without waiting to hearany more, rushed along the corridor and up the stairs to the upperlanding where all the children's rooms were, and flinging herself onKitty's door, had burst it open before either Betty or Kitty couldrealize what was happening. Betty, seriously frightened, sprang up inher bed with a shriek. Kitty dropped her book hurriedly and sprang outon the floor. 

"What is the matter?" she cried, filled with an awful fear. "Who isill? Father? Tony?" But at the violent change in her aunt'sexpression from alarm to anger her words died on her lips. 

"How dare you! How dare you! You wicked, disobedient, daring girl, setting the place on fire and risking our lives, and wasting candles, and--and you know I do not allow reading in bed. "

"I wasn't reading, " stammered Kitty--"I mean, not stories. I was onlylearning my lessons. I _must_ learn them somehow, and I can't--I reallycan't--learn them downstairs, Aunt Pike, with Anna whistling and hissingall the time; it is no use. I have tried and tried, and I _must_ knowthem. I wasn't setting the place on fire; it is quite safe. I hadstood the candle-stick in a basin. I always do. "

"Always do! Do you mean to say that you are in the habit of reading inbed?"

"Yes, " said Kitty honestly, "we always have. Father does too. "

"Even after you knew I did not allow it?" cried Aunt Pike, ignoringKitty's reference to her father. 

"I didn't know you didn't allow it, " said Kitty doggedly. "I had neverheard you say anything about it; and as father did it, I didn't thinkthere was any harm. "

"No harm! no harm to frighten poor Anna so that she flew from her bedand came rushing through the dark house to me quite white and trembling. She was afraid your room was on fire, and was dreadfully frightened ofcourse. She will probably feel the ill effects of the shock for sometime. "

Betty, having got over her fright, had been sitting up in bed all thistime embracing her knees. When Anna's name was mentioned her eyes beganto sparkle. "If Anna had come in here first to see, she needn't havetrembled or been frightened, " she remarked shrewdly. 

"Anna naturally ran to her mother, " said Mrs. Pike sharply. 

"Anna naturally ran to sneak, " said Betty to herself, "and I don'tbelieve she really thought there was a fire at all, and I'll tell her sowhen I get her by herself. " Aloud she said, "I wonder what made her getout of bed and look under our door. She couldn't have smelt fire, forof course there wasn't any to smell. "

"Be quiet, Elizabeth. --Remember, Katherine, " her aunt went on, turningto her, "that if ever I hear of or see any behaviour of this kind again, I shall have you to sleep in my room, and put Anna in here withElizabeth. " Which was a threat so full of horror to both the girls thatthey subsided speechless. 

"I think, " whispered Betty, as soon as their aunt's footsteps had ceasedto sound--"no, I don't think, I know that Anna is the _very meanest_sneak I ever met. "

"I hope I shall never know a meaner, " groaned Kitty; "but I--I won't bebeaten by her. I won't! I won't!"

"And I'll beat her too, " snapped Betty. 

"I am ashamed that she is a relation, " said Kitty in hot disgust. 

"She isn't a real one, " said Betty scornfully, "and for the future Ishan't count her one at all. We won't own such a mean thing in thefamily. "

"I wonder why she is so horrid, " sighed Kitty, who was more distressedby these things than was Betty. "We never did her any harm. Perhaps she can't help it. It must be awful to be mean, and a sneak, and to feel you can't help it. "

"Why doesn't Aunt Pike teach her better? She is always telling us whatto do, and that it is good for us to try and be different, and--and allthat sort of thing. "

"But Aunt Pike wouldn't believe that Anna is mean; she thinks she isperfection, " said Kitty. 

"Oh, well, I s'pose a jewel's a duck in a toad's eye, " misquoted Bettycomplacently; "at least, that is what Fanny said, and I think she isright. Fanny often is. "

When they met the next day Betty gave her cousin another shock, perhapsmore severe than the one she had had during the night, for franknessalways shocked Anna Pike. 

"I do think, Anna, " she said gravely, "it is a pity you let yourself dosuch mean things. Of course you didn't really think our room was onfire last night, and every one but Aunt Pike knows you were onlysneaking. If you go on like that, you won't be able to stop yourselfwhen you want to, and nobody will ever like you. "

Anna's little restless eyes grew hard and unpleasant-looking. "I havemore friends than you have, or Kitty either, " she retorted, "and I amever so much more friendly with the girls at school than you are. "A remark which stung Miss Betty sharply, for though she did not likeeither Lettice or Maude Kitson, she resented the way in which they hadgone over to Anna, with whom Lettice in particular had struck up aviolent friendship--the sort of friendship which requires secretsignals, long whisperings in corners, the passing of many surreptitiousnotes, and is particularly aggravating to all lookers-on. 

Kitty saw it all too, of course, but instead of feeling annoyed as Bettydid by it, she felt a sense of relief that Anna had ceased to be hershadow, and had attached herself to some one else. 

"If Anna isn't sorry some day for being so chummy with Lettice, " saidBetty seriously, "Lettice will be for being so chummy with Anna. "But Kitty could not see that. She did not care for Lettice, but itnever occurred to her that her behaviour was worse than foolish, or thatshe should warn Anna against the friendship. Not that it would havedone any good, probably, if she had. 

It might have been better for them all, though, if Kitty had been moresuspicious and alert, for she might then have seen what was happening, and perhaps have avoided the catastrophe to which they were allhastening. But, of course, if you have no suspicions of people, youcannot be on your guard against something that you do not know exists;and Kitty suspected nothing, not even when Betty came home one day withan unpleasant tale of foolishness to tell. 

"I won't walk home with Anna any more, " she cried hotly. "She asks meto go with her, and then tries to get rid of me. I know why she wantedto, though: she had a letter to post and didn't want me to see it. I suppose, " indignantly, "she thought I would try to read the address, or would sneak about it!"

"You must have made a mistake, " said Kitty. "It is too silly to thinkshe should want to get rid of you while she posted a letter. Why shouldn't she post one? I don't see anything in it. "

"Well, _I_ do, " said Betty solemnly. "To tell you isn't reallysneaking, is it? Anna posts letters for Lettice Kitson--letters topeople she isn't allowed to write to--and she takes letters to her. She does really, Kitty, and I think Anna ought to be spoken to. Lettice was nearly expelled from her last school for the same thing. Violet told me so. "

"Nonsense, " cried Kitty scornfully. "I believe the girls make upstories, and you shouldn't listen to them, Betty; it is horrid. "

"I am sure Violet wouldn't make up stories, " said Betty; "and if Letticedoes such things, Anna ought not to help her. You should stop her, Kitty. Tell her we won't have it. "

"O Betty, don't talk so. Don't tell me any more that I ought to do. It seems to me I ought to do everything that is horrid! And why shouldI look after Anna? She never takes any notice of what I say; and afterall it is nothing very bad--nothing to make a fuss about, I mean. I haven't seen anything myself. "

"Well, _I_ think it is a good deal more than nothing, " said Bettygravely; "and I wish you would see, Kitty, I wish you would noticethings more. "

"But what good could I do? What can I say?" cried Kitty distractedly, growing really distressed. 

"Say? Oh, say that we won't stand it, and let her see that we won't, "said Betty. "We ought to be able to do that. "

CHAPTER XI. 

POOR KITTY!

Only a few days later Kitty's eyes were opened for her, and openedviolently. Autumn had come on apace. The days were short now, and theevenings long and dark. Already the girls were counting that there wereonly five or six weeks before Dan came home; and at school there wasmuch talk of the break-up party, and the tableaux which were to be thechief feature of the festivity this year. Kitty was to take part in onetableau at least. She was to be Enid in one of her dearly lovedArthurian legends--Enid, where, clad in her faded gown, she met QueenGuinevere for the first time, who, "descending, met them at the gates, Embraced her with all welcome as a friend, And did her honour as the prince's bride. "

And Kitty was to wear a wig such as she had always longed for, withgolden plaits reaching to her knees, and she was almost beside herselfwith joy. 

On the evening that the storm broke, she, little dreaming of what wascoming, was doing her home work and taking occasional dips into hervolume of Tennyson. Betty had finished her home lessons and was curledup in a chair reading. Anna was not in the room; in fact, she had leftit almost as soon as they had settled down to their work after tea asusual. It was now nearly supper-time. 

Mrs. Pike was absent at a Shakespeare reading. Dr. Trenire had been outall day, a long round over bleak country, and had not been home morethan an hour. Kitty had heard him come, and had longed--as she hadnever longed in the days when she was free to do as she liked--to go andsuperintend his meal, and hear all about his day. But she knew what ato-do there would be if she did not stay where she was and do herlessons, and she had just lost herself again in the story of "Enid, "when, to her surprise, she heard her father's footsteps coming along thepassage and stopping at the door of the school-room. She was even moresurprised when, on opening the door, he said very quietly and gravely, "Kitty, will you come to me in my study at once? I wish to speak toyou. "

She had looked up with a smile, but the expression on her father's facecaused her smile to die away, and left her perplexed and troubled. 

"What was it? Was Dan in trouble--or ill--or--or what had happened?"

It never occurred to her as she got up and hurried after her father tohis room that the trouble might be of her causing. When she reached thestudy she found Dr. Trenire standing by the table holding a letter whichhe was reading. He looked up from it when she entered, and in answer tothe alarmed questioning in her eyes, he, after hesitating a moment, putthe letter into her hand. "Read that, " he said sternly, "and tell mewhat it means. "

Kitty took the letter, but she was so bewildered and troubled by herfather's manner, and the mystery, and her own dread, that she gazed atit for seconds, unable to take in a word that it contained. 

"Well?"

"I--I haven't read it yet, father, " she stammered. "Do tell me; is it--is it anything about Dan?"

Dr. Trenire looked at her very searchingly. "This is not the time fortrifling, Kitty, " he said. "The letter is about you, I am sorry to say. I am so shocked, so grieved, and astonished at what it tells me, thatI--I cannot make myself believe it unless you tell me that I must. Read it. "

Kitty read it this time--read it with the blood rushing over her faceand neck, her eyes smarting, her cheeks tingling; and as she more andmore clearly grasped the meaning, her heart beat hot and fast withindignation. 

When she looked up, her hurt, shamed eyes struck reproach to Dr. Trenire's heart. "Father, you didn't--you didn't think that I--I--thatwhat that letter says is true?" The feeling that he had, if only for amoment, done so hurt her far more than did the letter, which was fromMiss Richards. 

"It had been discovered, " wrote Miss Richards, evidently in a greatstate of wrath and indignation, "that one of the boarders had been inthe habit of writing to and receiving surreptitious letters from aperson with whom she had been forbidden to correspond. This she couldonly have accomplished with the aid of some one outside the school. On that very evening a letter had been intercepted, and the messengeralmost caught; but though she had escaped she had been partiallyrecognized by the governess, who had fortunately discovered theseshocking and flagrantly daring misdoings, and the governess had no doubtin her mind that the culprit was Dr. Trenire's elder daughter. "Miss Richards was deeply grieved to have to write such unpleasanttidings to him, but she begged he would make strict inquiries into thematter at once. In the meantime Miss Lettice Kitson, who was forbiddento leave her room, refused to make any communication on the matter. 

"How dare she!" cried Kitty. "How dare she accuse me of doing such athing! I hardly ever speak to Lettice. We are not at all friendly, andMiss Richards knows it. I have never liked her, and--and, " she brokeoff hotly--"as if, even if I did like her, I would behave so. Father, you know I wouldn't; don't you?" she entreated passionately. 

"Have you any idea who the real culprit is?" asked her father, greatlytroubled. In his heart he implicitly believed her, but he had toinquire into the matter without prejudice. "If you have a suspicion, dogive me the clue, that you may be cleared. Of course it wouldn't beBetty--"

"Oh no, of course not, " cried Kitty emphatically. "She has been in theplayroom with me all the evening; besides, Betty wouldn't behave so. Why, only the other day she was fearfully disgusted with--"

Kitty stopped abruptly, a flood of colour pouring over her face as asudden suspicion rushed over her mind with overwhelming force. 

Dr. Trenire was watching her closely. "You have some suspicion?"

Kitty opened her lips, then closed them. "I--I have nothing I can say, father, " she said at last in a muffled tone. 

"But you must clear yourself, Kitty, " he said gravely. 

"Lettice Kitson can clear me, " she replied. "She knows, and of courseshe will tell Miss Richards when she hears that they are accusing me. You believe me; don't you, father?" she asked again, looking up at himpleadingly. 

"Certainly, Kitty, " he said heartily, unable to withstand the appeal inher gray eyes. "I would not believe you capable of such dishonourableconduct unless you yourself told me you were guilty. "

In the joy and relief of her heart Kitty forgot all about any suspicionsothers might entertain, until Dr. Trenire mentioned Mrs. Pike. At themention of that name her heart sank down and down. "O father, " shecried, "Aunt Pike need not know anything about it, need she?"

"Of course she need, dear. Why should she not? You have nothing tofear from her knowing it. When you deny the guilt there will be aninquiry into the matter, of course, so that it must come to theknowledge of, at any rate, the elder girls and the parents, and Annawill be amongst the elder ones, I suppose. At any rate she is as tallas you are, and in your class. "

"As tall as you are. " The words struck Kitty with a new suggestiveness. She remembered suddenly that Anna had not been with them all theevening; that she had left the schoolroom soon after they had beguntheir work, and had not returned. 

"Oh, where was she? What had she been doing? Where had she been?"Kitty was in a fever of alarm, and could barely conceal her dismay. 

"Well, " said Dr. Trenire, "that will do, dear. I shall write to MissRichards at once, and tell her that you absolutely deny any knowledge ofor part in the matter, and that you have given me your word that youhave not left the house since you returned from school at four-thirty. That should settle the matter as far as you are concerned. "

"Yes, " said poor trusting Kitty, "that must set it all right for me, ofcourse. " It did not occur to her then that any one could refuse toaccept her word; and with no further fears for herself, she hurried awayin search of Anna. 

First she went to her bedroom, but a glance showed her that no one wasthere; and as it never occurred to Kitty to look under the bed, she didnot see a pair of shoes covered with wet mud, and a splashed skirt andcloak. All, to her, looked neat and orderly, and with puzzled sigh shewent thoughtfully down to the schoolroom again. If Anna had not been inher bedroom all the evening, where had she been? she thought anxiously. And when, a second later, she opened the schoolroom door and saw Annasitting at the table facing her, her books spread out before her, herhead bent low over them, she really wondered for the moment whether shewas mad or dreaming. Betty was in her big chair, just as she had lefther, her book in her hand, but she was glancing beyond it at Anna morethan at the pages, and her face was full of grave perplexity. 

"Anna has such a cough, " she said, when Kitty appeared, "and she can'tbreathe, and her face is so red. I'm sure she has got a bad cold. "

Anna was certainly very flushed, and she held her handkerchief up to herface a good deal. 

"Have you a cold?" asked Kitty. She could not control her feelingssufficiently to speak quite naturally, and her voice soundedunsympathetic. She was vexed, and puzzled, and full of fears as to whatmight be to come. She could not help feeling in her heart a strongdistrust of Anna, yet she felt sorry for her, and dreaded what might bein store for her. 

"No--at least I don't think so. Perhaps I have, though. I don't feelwell, " she stammered. She spoke confusedly, and did not look at Kitty. 

"I should think you had better go to bed and have some hot milk, " saidBetty in her serious, old-fashioned way. 

"Oh no. I am all right, thank you, " said Anna, shrinking from thethought of her mother's visits to her room, and her searching inquiriesas to how she could possibly have got a cold. "Do be quiet, Betty, andlet me do my work. You know it is nearly bedtime. "

"Well, you haven't seemed in a hurry till now, " said Betty sharply. "You haven't been learning your lessons in your room, because I saw yourbag and your books on your bed just now, and you hadn't touched themthen. "

"I do wish people wouldn't always be prying after me, " said Annaangrily, and this time it was Kitty who looked guilty. 

Supper was a very silent meal that night, and soon after it the threewent to bed, scarcely another word having been spoken. 

Kitty and Betty had been in bed an hour perhaps, and Betty was fastasleep, when Kitty, restless and sleepless with the new trouble she hadon her mind, was surprised by the gentle opening of the door of theroom. Half alarmed, she rose up in bed, peering anxiously through thegloom. Then--"O Anna!" she cried, "what is the matter? Are you ill?"

"No--o, I don't think I am, but I--I am sure I shall be. O Kitty, I amin _such_ trouble. I _must_ tell some one. "

"I think I know what it is, " said Kitty gently. 

"Oh no, you don't, " groaned Anna. "You can't. It is worse than copyingmy sums, or--or cribbing, or anything. "

"I know, " said Kitty again. 

But Anna did not hear her. She was looking at Betty. "Come to my room, do!" she said. "Betty may wake up, and I don't want her to hear. "

"Very well, " said Kitty, slipping out of bed and into her dressing-gown. "I expect, though, she will have to know. It is bound to reach all thegirls. I only wish it wasn't. "

Anna, creeping back to her room, did not answer till she got there. Then she turned round sharply. "What do you mean? Know what?" shedemanded. 

Kitty looked surprised. "Why, about Lettice and--and you, and thoseletters, of course. "

Anna dropped on to a chair, her face chalk-white, her eyes starting. "Lettice and--and--and me--and--who told--what do you mean? I don'tunderstand. "

"Anna, don't!" cried Kitty, ashamed and distressed. "Don't try topretend. There is no mistake, and every one must know soon aboutLettice. Whoever it was who nearly caught you made a mistake, for shethought it was me, and Miss Richards wrote to father accusing me, but, of course--"

"Accusing you!" cried Anna in astonishment. But her voice had changed. It was less full of terror than it had been. For a moment after Kittyceased speaking she sat lost in thought. 

"Of course father does not believe it, and he has written to tell MissRichards so, and that I was at home all the evening, so there would haveto be an inquiry of course, to try and find out which of the other girlsit was, and everybody would have to know all about it; but now, when youtell Miss Richards that it was you, it needn't go any farther. Of course there will be a row, and probably you and Lettice will bepunished, but no one else need ever hear anything more about it. "

"Oh, but I couldn't!" cried Anna. She was so intensely relieved to findthat, as yet, she was not suspected, that much of her courage andboldness came back. "And, of course, I shouldn't, unless they asked me, and--and for mother's sake it would be very foolish to--to get myselfinto a scrape when I needn't. "

"But--but, Anna"--Anna's speech left Kitty almost voiceless--"it is--itis so dishonourable, so dishonest, so--"

"No, it isn't, " snapped Anna crossly. She bitterly regretted now thatshe had taken Kitty into her confidence. She had done it in a moment ofpanic when she felt that detection was certain, and she must get helpfrom somewhere. As soon as she knew that she was not suspected hercourage and hopes had rallied. "You need not mind; you will be cleared;and they can't find and punish any one else, for there is no one else tofind, so it can't do any one any harm. "

"There is Lettice, " said Kitty coldly. "You know you can't trust her, and if she tells, things will look ever so much worse for you than--"

"I don't think Lettice will tell, " interrupted Anna meaningly. "She knows that if she tells tales I can tell some too. "

"You count on other people having some honour, though you have noneyourself, " said Kitty scathingly, and she turned away, choking withdisgust. Anna made her feel positively ill. When she got to the doorshe stood and looked back. Her face was very white and stern, her eyesfull of a burning contempt. "I do think, Anna, " she said slowly andscornfully, "that you are the meanest, most dishonourable girl I everheard of in all my life. You are going to leave all the girls in theschool under suspicion because you haven't the honesty or courage to ownup. "

"It isn't anything to do with honesty, " muttered Anna, very white andangry and sullen. "You have no right to say such things, Kitty. If youdidn't do it, it can't do you any harm; and if no one suspects me, itisn't likely that I shall make them. I shan't be telling a story. I simply shan't say anything. "

"I see no difference between telling a lie and acting one, " flashedKitty, and she walked back to her own room without another word. She had not been there long, though, before Anna came creeping in again. 

"Kitty, " she said anxiously, "you won't tell any one, will you, even ifyou are mad with me? You know I never _said_ I--I--you accused me, butI didn't say--"

"I am not a sneak, " said Kitty coldly. "Now go away. Go out of myroom. I don't like to see you near Betty. Go away, do you hear!" andAnna vanished again into the darkness. 

Though strong and secure in her own innocence, Kitty awoke in themorning with the feeling weighing heavily on her that though the matterwould soon be ended, yet something very painful had to be faced first. Kitty, though, was counting too much on her own guiltlessness, and thecertainty of others believing in it; and she had more cause than sheimagined for waking with a weight on her mind. 

When the dreaded inquiry took place, and all the senior girls werecalled into the "study" to undergo a rigorous cross-examination, shesoon found that Miss Richards was very far from accepting herunsupported denial as conclusive. 

"Yes, but who can bear out your statement that you did not leave theroom or the house throughout the evening?" she asked sternly. 

"Betty can, " said Kitty. "Betty was in the room with me all the time. "

"Ah! Betty! But she is very young, and very attached to you, and wouldof course be prejudiced. "

Kitty's cheeks flamed with indignation, and she had to set her teeth tokeep herself from answering. 

"Have you no older--more responsible witnesses?"

"No one could be more honest and truthful than Betty, " said Kittyproudly. "She wouldn't dream of saying I was there if I wasn't. "

"But your father, or your aunt--"

"They were both out, " said Kitty. "Anna saw me go to the schoolroom, and saw me begin my lessons, and I never moved until father came to me. "

So Anna was called. 

"Can you support your cousin's statement that she was in the schoolroomall the evening, and never once left it?"

Anna was about to say "yes, " when she hesitated, and grew very red andconfused. "I--I couldn't say, " she stammered, and those listeningthought she was embarrassed by her desire to shield Kitty, and at thesame time tell the truth. Kitty looked at her with wide, horrifiedeyes. Surely Anna would say why she could not give the requiredassurance. But only too soon the conviction was borne in on her thatAnna did not mean to tell, and Anna was an adept at saying nothing, yetconveying a stronger impression than if she had said much. Those looking on read in Kitty's horrified eyes only a fear of what Annamight admit, and opinion was strengthened against her. 

"Speak out frankly, Anna, " said Miss Richards encouragingly. "Did younotice her absence?"

"She--a--Kitty wasn't there once when I went back to the room, " murmuredAnna, apparently with great reluctance. 

Kitty's head reeled. She could not believe that she had heard aright. Anna was not only concealing her own guilt, but was actually fasteningit on to her. "I think I must be going mad, or going to faint, " shethought to herself. "I can't take in what they are saying. ""But, Anna, " she cried, in her extremity forgetting judge and jury, "you know father had come to me with Miss Richards's letter. I was withhim when you came in. "

"No, " said Anna, with a look of injured innocence, "I didn't know. You didn't tell me. Of course I--I knew you were somewhere, " shestammered lamely. "I don't say you were out of the house, only--well Icouldn't say you were in the room if you weren't, could I?" with aglance at Miss Richards for approbation, and a half-glance at Kitty, whose gray eyes were full of a scorn that was not pleasant to meet. 

Kitty could not speak for a moment, her indignation and disgust were toointense. She felt herself degraded by stooping to ask for evidence asto her own innocence. 

Miss Melinda whispered to Miss Richards. Miss Richards looked at Kittyand bade her turn round. Kitty, wondering, obeyed. 

"How do you account for the fact that your dress is splashed to thewaist with mud?" Miss Richards asked frigidly. "Yesterday was quitefine until after you had all gone home from school, then heavy rainfell. "

Poor Kitty. Here was Nemesis indeed! Two days ago that skirt had beenput aside to be brushed, and now, to-day, without giving a thought tothe mud on it, she had put it on and worn it. With crimsoning cheeksshe wheeled around. "That mud has been there for days, Miss Richards, "she said shamefacedly. "I ought to have brushed it yesterday, but Ididn't, and to-day I forgot it. " But she saw and felt that no onebelieved her, and Betty, the only one who could have borne out herwords, was not there. 

"You can all go back to your classes--all but Katherine Trenire, " saidMiss Richards, ignoring her speech; and the girls, with looks ofsympathy or alarm, filed out, leaving Kitty alone. 

"Now, Katherine, " said Miss Richards firmly, "be a sensible, honest girland tell the truth, and my sister and I will consult together as to thepunishment we feel we must inflict. We do not wish to be too severe, but such conduct must be punished. Now, tell us the truth. "

"I have told the truth, " said Kitty proudly, "and I have no more totell. Lettice can clear me if she likes, so can--the girl who was withher, but I can't do any more. If you won't believe me, what can I do?"and suddenly poor Kitty's proud eyes filled with tears. 

Miss Melinda took this as a sign of relenting. She thought confessionwas coming, and unbent encouragingly. "There, there, that is better, Katherine. Now be advised by us, and get this dreadful load off yourmind. You will be so much happier when you have. "

Kitty drove back her tears and her weakness, and her gray eyes grewclear enough to show plainly the hurt and the anger which burnt in herbrain as she listened to this insulting cajoling, as she termed it inher own mind. 

"How dare you!" she cried indignantly. "How dare you fasten it on tome! I know who the girl was, and she knows that I know, but you _want_to believe that I did it, and--and you can if you want to. You are bothvery wicked and unjust, and--and I will never set foot in your houseagain!" And Kitty, beside herself with indignation, her head veryerect, her face white, her eyes blazing, marched out of the room and outof the house, and not even her mud splashes could take from the dignityof her exit. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THOSE DREADFUL STOCKINGS. 

Dr. Trenire was extremely annoyed and very indignant when he heard ofthe inquiry and the result--so indignant that Kitty's words came true, and she never did set foot within the doors of Hillside again, for herfather removed her, and Betty too, from the school at once. Of courseBetty could not continue there after all that had happened. 

He did not tell the girls what he thought about the matter, but he toldMiss Richards plainly that he considered the inquiry was a prejudicedone, and that an injustice had been done. They had made up their mindsthat Kitty was guilty, and had not made sufficient inquiries as regardedthe other pupils. 

Miss Richards was, of course, indignant and greatly upset, and Aunt Pikewas in a great dilemma. She scarcely liked to keep Anna at the schoolafter her cousins were withdrawn from it, yet she was very loth todeprive her of the companionship of such desirable friends as sheconsidered she was thrown amongst there. Also, in her heart of hearts, Aunt Pike did not feel at all sure that Kitty was innocent. 

"They are such extraordinary children, " she said to herself, "I wouldnot be surprised at anything they did--not from bad motives, perhaps, but from sheer ignorance of the difference between right and wrong. "

So Anna was to stay on at Hillside, at any rate until the term and theterm's notice should be up; and Miss Pooley came again to teach Kittyand Betty and Tony, greatly to Tony's delight, for he had been having adull time, poor little man, and had not found much joy in doing lessonswith Aunt Pike. 

So the rest of the term wore away, and time healed the wound to someextent; and by-and-by the Christmas holidays drew near and the date ofDan's return, and that was sufficient to drive unwelcome thoughts fromtheir minds and lighten every trouble. 

"When the day comes, the real right day, " said Kitty, "I shall be quiteperfectly happy--"

"Touch wood, " said Betty anxiously; "you know it is unlucky to talk likethat. Fanny says so. "

"Pooh! nonsense!" cried Kitty, growing daring in her excitement. "What could be lovelier than for Dan to be coming home, and Christmascoming, and the holidays; and oh, Betty, it does seem too good to betrue, but it _is_ true, and I am sure nothing could spoil it all. "

But Kitty had not touched wood, and had reckoned without Aunt Pike; andeven when that lady came into their room with a paper parcel in her handthey suspected no harm--in fact, they looked at the parcel with pleasureand excitement for a moment, even after she had said, "Children, I havegot you some winter stockings, and you must put them on at once, theweather has become so cold. " They even agreed heartily, and Bettyplumped right down on the floor there and then, and bared one foot inreadiness by the time the parcel was opened. 

And then the parcel was opened, and dismay and horror fell on them, forthe stockings were not only of an ugly pale gray, with white stripesgoing round and round the legs, but they were woollen ones!--rough, harsh, scratchy woollen ones! The colour was bad enough, but that wasas nothing compared with the awful fact of their being woolly; for twochildren with more painfully sensitive skins than Katherine andElizabeth Trenire could not be found in the whole wide world, and forthem to wear anything in the shape of wool was a torture more dreadedthan any other. 

Betty instinctively drew her pretty bare feet under her for protection, and looked from Aunt Pike to Kitty with eyes full of horror. Kitty wasdesperate. 

"I am very sorry, Aunt Pike, " she said, quite gently and nicely, butvery emphatically, "but we cannot wear woollen stockings. They drive usnearly mad--"

"Nonsense, " interrupted Aunt Pike, with the complete indifference of aperson not afflicted with a sensitive skin. "You will get over that inan hour or two. If you don't think about it you won't notice anything. Try them on at once. I want to see if they fit. "

"It--it would really be better not to put them on, " urged Kitty, "for we really couldn't wear them if you bought them, aunt, and thepeople won't take them back if they are creased. "

"They will not be required to take them back, " said Mrs. Pike firmly. "I have bought you six pairs each"--Betty groaned--"Don't make thatnoise, Elizabeth--and if they fit they will be kept. They are very fineand quite soft; any one could wear them quite comfortably, and so canyou, unless, of course, " severely, "you make up your minds not to. "

Persons who are not afflicted with sensitive skins cannot, or will not, be made to understand how great and real the torment is, and youngthough Kitty was, she had, already learned this, and her heart sank. 

"I hate light stockings too, " said Betty; "they look so ugly with blackshoes. "

It was an unfortunate remark to make just then. 

"Ah, " said Aunt Pike triumphantly, "I suspected that vanity was at thebottom of it all! Now try on this one at once, Katherine; make haste. "She went to the door. --"Anthony, " she called, "come here to Kitty'sroom, I want you, " and she stood over the three victims until their poorshrinking legs were encased in the hideous, irritating gray horrors. 

Oh, the anger of Kitty and the dismay of Betty! Oh, the horrible, damp, sticky feeling that new stockings seem never to be without!Betty's blue eyes filled with tears of helpless misery, Kitty's grayones with rebellion. Why should they be tormented in this way? It wasso cruel, so unjust! They had not suffered from the cold more than hadother people, certainly they had not complained of it--not half as muchas had Mrs. Pike and Anna, who were clad in wool from their throats totheir toes. 

Tony sat looking at his poor little legs disgustedly, but it was theugliness of his new footgear that struck him most; he did not feel thetorment as his sisters did. Then quite suddenly Betty stripped off thedetestable things. 

"Thank you, " she said, "I'll wear my old ones. I prefer the cold. "

Mrs. Pike coloured with annoyance and set her lips firmly. "How dareyou defy me in that way, Elizabeth!" she cried. "I have told you towear those stockings, and you _are_ to wear them. Remember, I mean whatI say. I wonder your father has not insisted long before this on yourwearing flannel next your skin. Don't you know that by going about inflimsy cotton things in all weathers you are laying up for yourself arheumatic old age, and all kinds of serious illness?"

Kitty shuddered, but not at the prospect drawn for her by her aunt. "Father knows that we can't, " she said seriously, "so he never tried tomake us. "

Betty, who had been absorbed in thought, looked up eagerly. "I wouldmuch rather have rheumatism than itchy stockings, " she protested quitegravely. "I don't mind a bit, Aunt Pike. And--well, you see we can'tbe sure that we shall have an old age, or rheumatics. "

Mrs. Pike grew really angry. "Put on those stockings at once, miss, and fasten them to your suspenders. --Kitty, fasten yours too. "

"Oh, please let me wait, " cried Kitty, "before I pull them tight; it isso awful. "

"Nonsense! It is more than half of it fancy. Remember you are to wearthem until the warm weather comes, " and with that Aunt Pike walked awaytriumphant. 

"Oh, how hideous they are!" groaned Kitty, as she looked disgustedly ather striped legs; "how perfectly hideous! I shall be ashamed to go outin them. What will Dan say when he sees them?"

"It is worse for me, " wailed Betty, "my dress is so short. O Kitty, howcan we ever walk in these dreadful things?"

"I don't know, " said Kitty bitterly, "but we've _got_ to. It is a goodthing we have something nice to do to-day, for it may help us toforget. " But nothing made them do that; the discomfort went with themeverywhere, and destroyed their pleasure in everything. 

Earlier in the day Dr. Trenire had said that they might all go to thestation to meet Dan; and they went on top of the 'bus, and alone too, for Anna did not break up until the next day, and the weather waslovely, and everything might have been perfect, if only they could haveforgotten their tortured legs. But to do that was more than they werecapable of, for, in addition to the torture of them, there was theconsciousness of their extraordinary ugliness, an ugliness which caughtevery eye. 

"What on earth have you all got yourselves up in?" was almost Dan'sfirst greeting. "I say, you aren't going to do it often, are you?"

And Betty straightway explained with much vehemence and feeling thetorment of mind and body to which they had been condemned. 

"They look like Aunt Pike, " said Dan. "No one else could have unearthedsuch things. There is one comfort--we shall always be able to see youcoming when you have them on. Now then, mount, or we shan't get outsideseats. "

But when Kitty, more than ever conscious after Dan's comments, looked atthe steps and the little crowd of people who would witness her ascent, and thought of her dreadful stockings, her heart failed her. "I--I think I will go inside, " she said hastily. 

"So will I, " said Betty, shamefaced too. 

"Nonsense, " cried Dan, guessing at once what was the matter. "You twoskip up first, and I'll follow close to hide your le--retreat, I mean. I am not going to be done out of our drive home together. Now then, courage--up you get!"

And up they did get, but it did require courage: and the getting downwas even worse--their cheeks blazed and their hearts grew hot withanger, and oh! the irritation of their poor unhappy legs. 

"Kitty, " whispered Betty eagerly, as they hurried into the house, "comeupstairs, quick; I've thought of something. It's a splendid idea!"

With the excuse that they were going to take off their hats and coats, they rushed up to their bedroom and shut themselves in. Aunt Pike was alittle surprised at their neatness; Dan was a little hurt at being leftso soon, but Betty could not think of that then. 

"Kitty, " she breathed, as she closed the door and leaned against it, "I know what we will do. We will wear our cotton stockings underneaththese horrors! They won't scratch us then, will they? And our holidayswon't be spoilt, and Aunt Pike won't know, and--don't you think it's aperfectly splendid idea?"

"Splendid, " cried Kitty enthusiastically, dropping on to the floor andbeginning to unlace her boots that very moment. "Oh, quickly let usmake haste and change them; I cannot, cannot endure this torment aminute longer. O Betty, why didn't you think of it sooner?"Then, holding up one of the offending gray stockings between the tipsof her fingers, "Did you--did any one ever see anything in all thisworld so hideous?"

"We can do away with their itchiness, but we shall never, never be ableto hide their ugliness, " said Betty ruefully. "_Nothing_ could dothat. "

But the ugliness did not seem to matter so much when the irritation wasstopped; and they had such a grand time that evening, there was somuch to tell, and hear, and do, and show, that all other things wereforgotten, at least for the time. 

And how lovely it was to wake in the morning and remember at once thatthe holidays had come, and Dan was home; and then to wander about thehouse and garden with him, looking up old haunts, and visiting Prue andBilly and Jabez in the stables; for Aunt Pike had allowed them that muchlicence on this the first day of the holidays. Then after dinner theyall went up to Dan's room to help him to unpack, and there was no end ofrunning backwards and forwards, looking at new treasures and old ones, and talking incessantly until the afternoon had nearly worn away withouttheir realizing it. 

"Um!" said Dan at last, pausing on the landing to hang over thebanisters and sniff audibly. "A--ha! methinks I smell thesoul-inspiring smell of saffron! For thirteen long, weary weeks I havenot smelt that glorious smell. Oh yes, I have though, once. There wasa saffron cake in the hamper. Fanny's own, too. Why, " with suddenrecollection, "I haven't had a good talk with Fanny yet. Aunt Pike wasabout all the time, and dried up the words in my throat. I'm going downto see her this very moment as ever is. " And that moment he went. 

The other three followed swiftly but silently, for Anna was at home andin her bedroom, resting, preparatory to going to a party that evening--the break-up party at Hillside--at least she was supposed to be resting. Her sharp ears, though, were ever on the alert, and if she guessed whatwas going on, she would come out and spoil everything. Mrs. Pike wasshopping--buying gloves, and elastic for Anna's shoes, and a few triflesfor herself, for she too was going to the party. 

The kitchen was very snug and warm and full of business, as well assavoury odours, when they reached it. Fanny had a large Christmas cakeout cooling on the table, and mince pies and tartlets all ready to gointo the oven, while on a clean white cloth at one end of the table werelaid half a dozen large saffron cakes and a lot of saffron nubbies tocool. 

"O Fanny, how I adore you!" cried Dan, hugging her warmly. "No one inthe world reads my thoughts as you do. The one thing I wanted at thismoment was a nubby, and here it is. " And seizing a couple he began toeat them with a rapidity that was positively alarming. "I know, thoughyou don't say much, that you are overjoyed to see me home again; I cansee it in your eyes. The house is a different place when I am home, isn't it?"

"It is _different_ certainly, " said Fanny with emphasis and a sniff, butnot quite the emphasis Dan had asked for. Her coolness did not put himout, though. Fanny had a soft spot in her heart for him, and he knewit, the scamp; but though Dan was perhaps her favourite, at any rate forthe moment, the others benefited by the favour shown to him. 

"I knew you would feel it, " he said sympathetically; "I was afraid itwould tell on you. How thin you have gone, Fanny, " with an anxiousglance at Fanny's plump cheeks. 

"Get along with your iteming. Master Dan, " she said severely. "I should have thought they'd have learnt you better at school; and ifanybody'd asked me, I should have said that the kitchen wasn't the placefor young gentlemen. "

"But nobody has asked you, " said Dan. "And how, " melodramatically, "could you expect me to keep away when you are here, and I smelt newsaffron cake?"

"And how do you expect me to do all I've a-got to do with the lot of youthronging up every inch of my kitchen?" she went on, ignoring hisflattery. 

"Ask me another, " said Dan, handing nubbies the while to all the others. "I give that one up. But I knew you would be frightfully cut up if Ididn't come. "

Fanny snorted in a most contemptuous manner, and tossed her head withgreat scorn. "Oh! I'd have managed to survive it, I dare say, and Idon't suppose I should break down if you was to go. "

"Do you know, Fanny dear, " said Dan, suddenly growing very serious, "when I went away I never expected to see you still in this dear oldkitchen when I came home, and the thought nearly broke my heart; it didreally. I didn't think you could have stood--you know who, so long. "

"Well, I reckon you won't see me here next time you comes home, " saidFanny, trying hard not to look pleasant; "and as for this 'dear oldkitchen, ' as you call it--dear old barn, I call it, with its draughtsand its old rough floor--it isn't never no credit to me, do what I willto it, and Mrs. Pike is always going on at me about the place. I sayssometimes I'll give up and let it go, and then some folks'll see thedifference. "

Kitty remembered the time when Fanny, not so many months back, had letit go, and she had seen the difference. But she said nothing, andmunched contentedly at her nubby; and Fanny, who really loved her big, homelike old kitchen almost as well as she did the children, continuedto talk. 

"I wish Jabez would come in, " said Dan. "He used to love hot cake, andI have hardly had a chance to say anything to him since I came. "

"Nobody gets a chance to nowadays, " said Fanny sharply. "He gets hishead took off--not by me--if he so much as sets foot inside these doors;and Jabez isn't partial to having his head took off. "

"I should think his foot should be taken off, not his head, " giggledBetty; but no one but herself laughed at her joke. 

Kitty, who had been sitting on the corner of the table which stood inthe window, munching her nubby and thinking very busily, suddenly lookedup, her face alight with eagerness. 

"Fanny, " she cried, "don't you want to do something very, very nice andkind and--and lovely, something that would make us all love you morethan ever?"

Fanny glanced up quickly; but as she was always suspicious that somejoke was being played on her, she, as usual, made a cautious answer. She was not going to be drawn into anything until she knew more. "Well, I dunno as I wants to do more than I'm doing--letting 'ee eat my cake sofast as I bakes it. "

"But, Fanny, listen!" Kitty was so eager she scarcely knew how toexplain. "You know that Aunt Pike and Anna are going out this evening?"

"Yes, miss, " with a sigh of relief; "from four to ten. "

"Well, " springing off the table in her excitement, "let us have a partytoo; a jolly little one at home here by ourselves. Shall we?"

Betty slipped down from her perch on the clothes-press, Tony got off thefender, and all clustered round Kitty in a state of eager excitement tohear the rest of her plan. They felt certain there was more. Fanny could not conceal her interest either. 

"And what will be best of all, " went on Kitty, "will be for you to ask usto tea in the kitchen, and we will ask Jabez too, and Grace, of course"--Grace was Emily's successor--"and we will have a really lovely time, just as we used to have sometimes. Shall we? O Fanny, do say yes!"

"Seems to me, " said Fanny, "there isn't no need. 'Tis all settled, tomy thinking. " But there was a twinkle in her eye, and a flush ofexcitement on her cheek, and any one who knew Fanny could see that shewas almost as pleased as the children. 

"You are a Briton!" cried Dan, clapping her on the back resoundingly. 

"I ain't no such thing, " said Fanny, who usually thought it safest tocontradict everything they said to her. "I'm a Demshur girl, born andbred, and my father and mother was the same before me. I ain't none ofyour Britons nor Cornish pasties neither, nor nothing like 'em. "

"No, you are a thoroughbred Devonshire dumpling, we know, " said Dansoothingly, "and not so bad considering, and you can make a pasty like anative, though you aren't one, and never will be. It is a pity too, forJabez only likes--"

"I don't care nothing about Jabez, nor what he likes, nor what hedoesn't, " cried Fanny, bending down over her oven to hide a consciousblush which would spread over her round cheeks. "There's good and badof every sort, and I don't despise none. I only pities 'em if theyain't Demshur. "

"That is awfully good of you, " said Dan solemnly. "We can cheer upagain after that. Fanny, " more eagerly, "do tell us what you are goingto give us to eat. "

But Fanny could not be coaxed into that. "I haven't said yet as I'mgoing to give 'ee anything, " she said sharply; but there was a twinklein her eye, and matters were soon settled satisfactorily. There was tobe a substantial "plate tea" in the kitchen at half-past five, whichwould allow plenty of time for the laying of the cloth and otherpreparations after Mrs. Pike and Anna had departed. Then they were tohave games and forfeits, and tell ghost stories, and anything else thatcame into their minds to do, and a nice supper was to wind up theevening, and by ten o'clock all signs of their feast were to be tidiedaway, and the children were to go as quietly to bed as though Aunt Pikestood at their doors. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

AN EXCITING NIGHT. 

Had Aunt Pike had even the faintest suspicion of what was to happenduring her absence he would have given up her party then and there andhave remained at home, even though Anna was to receive a prize and torecite. 

But, fortunately for her peace of mind, she suspected nothing, and theyboth went off quite cheerful and excited through the cold and mist ofthe December evening to the scene of the triumph of Anna's genius--Anna with her head enveloped in shawls, her feet in goloshes, her muslinskirts covered with a mackintosh and a fur-lined cloak. 

When it came to the moment of departure she felt so sorry for those leftbehind that she could not help expressing it. "I wish you could havecome too, and had some of the fun, " she said excitedly. 

"Do you?" said Betty bluntly. "Well, I don't. So you needn't feelunhappy about it. We would rather have 'bread and scrape, ' or nothingat all, at home. We shall enjoy ourselves, you may be quite sure. Don't worry about us, " which was wickedness on Betty's part, for sheknew that Anna always suspected that they enjoyed themselves morewithout her, and resented it. 

And there was no denying that Anna's suspicions were correct. Before she and her proud mamma had reached the gates of Hillside, Kittyand Betty had stripped off the detested stockings, and were arrayingthemselves in their last summer's muslin frocks, intending to be quiteas partified as Anna; and Kitty tied her hair with a red ribbon, andBetty's with a blue one to match her turquoise locket, and down theywent to the feast. 

Jabez had not yet arrived, but he was momentarily expected. Dan wasalready there in his new "Eton's, " with a sprig of mistletoe in hisbutton-hole. Tony was in his best white sailor suit, and Fanny andGrace had holly in their caps, and wore their Jubilee medals. The tablewas loaded with cakes and pasties, and "splits" with cream and jam onthem; and then, just as they were getting tired of waiting, Jabezarrived. He was in his best suit, and was very shy, very embarrassed, yet very pleased at having been invited. 

"Simmeth like old times, don't it!" he gasped, seating himself on theextreme edge of the hard chair nearest the door, a chair and a positionno one ever dreamed of occupying at any ordinary time. 

To Kitty, who always felt shy if others were, it was as little like oldtimes as could be, for every one seemed borne down with an unnaturalpoliteness and quiet, and of them all Jabez suffered most. He had neverbeen asked to a party before, not a full-dress party, and he found itembarrassing. But Dan came to the rescue, and with his jokes and hislaughs and his funny stories soon made them all feel more at ease, sothat by the time the first cups of tea were drunk, and the dish of"splits" emptied, the ice had been melted and all was going well. 

"Jabez, " said Dan, turning to him with a very solemn face, "it is you wehave to thank for this feast. "

Jabez stared, bewildered. "I don't take your meaning, sir, " he answeredin a puzzled voice. "Tedn't nothing to do with me. I am the invitedguest, I am, and proud so to be. I only wishes I'd a-got a bit of aplace fitty for to ask 'ee and the young leddies to come to, sir. "

"Never mind, Jabez; we can wait. Perhaps you'll have one soon, " saidDan consolingly, and he glanced knowingly round the table, letting hiseye rest for a moment longer on Fanny than any one else. "By anotherChristmas we may--dear me, I think this room must be very hot, " heremarked, breaking off abruptly to look at Fanny's rosy cheeks. ButFanny rather tartly told him to "go on with his tea and never mindnothing 'bout hot rooms, nor anything else that didn't concern him, " andquite unabashed he turned to Jabez again. 

"You see, " he explained, "if you hadn't gone to father that day I shiedthe wood at you, we shouldn't have had Aunt Pike here, and Fannywouldn't have asked us out here to tea because Aunt Pike was out, because, you see, she wouldn't be here to go out, and we couldn't beglad about her going, for we shouldn't know anything about it to be gladabout, and so there wouldn't be anything special to ask us here for, andso--"

"Master Dan, " cried Jabez piteously, "if you don't stop to once, thelittle bit of brain I've got'll be addled! Iss, my word, addled beyondrecovery, and me a poor man with my living to get. "

"It do put me in mind of my old granny, " said Grace, laughing, "whenpoor grandfather died, and she was getting her bit of mourning. 'Well, 'she saith, 'if my poor dear Samuel had died a week sooner or later, andMiss Peek had put her clearance sale back or fore a week, I should havemissed that there remlet of merino and lost a good bargain, whereas nowit'll always be a pleasure to me to look at and feel I saved twoshillings on it. '"

"Now, Fanny, " cried Dan, "a story from you, please. "

Fanny demurred a little, of course. People never like to be told totell stories. They prefer to drift naturally into them, without a lotof people waiting expectantly for what they are going to say. 

But Fanny had such stores of tales of ghosts, fairies, witches, andother thrilling subjects, that she never failed to fascinate herlisteners. She did so now, when once she had begun, until they were allalmost afraid to look round the dim kitchen, and Jabez wished, though hewould not have owned it, that he had not got that walk home in the dark. 

Then they burnt nuts, and melted lead in an iron spoon and poured itinto tumblers of cold water, and Fanny's took the shape of the masts andrigging of a ship, though Jabez declared it wasn't nothing of the sort, but was more like clothes-postens with the lines stretched to them, yes, and the very clothes themselves hanging to them. All but Jabez, though, preferred to think it a ship; it was more exciting. Grace's lead formedtents of all sizes, and Grace seemed quite pleased. 

Of Kitty's they could make nothing at all. 

"That looks to me like a rolling-pin lying at the bottom, " cried Danexcitedly, "and a beautiful palace, almost like a fairy palace, and--butI don't know what all those little pieces can be meant for. I think itmust mean that you are going to be a cook in a large house--a palace, perhaps. "

"I fink those are fairies, " chimed in Tony thoughtfully, "and that's afairy palace, and--and--"

"And the rolling-pin is me in the midst of it all, " cried Kitty, throwing her arm round her little brother. "Tony, you are a dear; youalways say something nice. "

"I shouldn't think it very nice to be called a rolling-pin, " said Betty. "But do tell me what mine is, Kitty!"

"I really can't, " said Kitty, after they had each gazed at it solemnly. "I can't tell whether it is meant for a ship, or an iceberg, or a tent. Perhaps it is all three, and means that you are going to travel, Bettikins. "

"Oh yes, " said Betty, "I shouldn't be surprised. I mean to travel whenI am grown up, and I always feel that I shall do something some day. "

"I feel I shall do something to-night if I don't get something to eatsoon, " interrupted Dan, in a tone intended to touch Fanny's heart. "It is half-past eight, and tea has been over for more than two hours. "

"Well, " said Jabez, as the tumblers and the mysterious lead figures werewhisked away, "'tis just as well nobody couldn't attempt to tell whatmine was, for I wouldn't 'ave 'urt anybody's ingenooity with trying to. If 'twasn't a blacksmith's shop, 'twas a vegetable stall; and if'twasn't that, 'twasn't nothing; and things when they'm like that isbest left alone, it's my belief. "

"P'r'aps it was the table with supper laid on it, " suggested Kitty. 

"P'r'aps 'twas, Miss Kitty; but I'm sorry for us all if 'twas, for thedishes, if dishes they was, was empty, and that wouldn't suit us at thepresent minute. "

But it exactly depicted the state of the dishes half an hour later, for, as Fanny said when they wanted the kitchen cleared for games, "therewasn't nothing to clear but empty things. "

By that time all stiffness had worn away, every one was in the highestspirits, and the games went on furiously, so furiously that the strikingof the hall clock and the town clock were overlooked, and the firstthing that recalled them to themselves was a loud ringing of thefront-door bell. 

For one second they stood looking at each other in utter dismay, then--"The back stairs, " whispered Dan. "Fly, children, scoot, and hop intobed as you are. --Jabez--"

But Jabez had already vanished through the back door and had shuthimself in Prue's stable. Up the back stairs the children scuttled, shoes in hand, and melted away into their various rooms without a sound. Kitty stayed a moment with Tony to help him into bed, and as she creptout of his room the sound of voices in the hall reached her. 

"Grace needn't have hurried so to let them in, " she thought. "She couldat least have pretended she was asleep and didn't hear the knock, and sohave given us a few minutes more. " But Grace's promptness was such thatKitty had barely time to draw her nightgown on over her frock and creepinto her bed before she heard her aunt's footsteps on the stairs. 

Mrs. Pike went first to Tony's room, and Kitty, leaning up, listened ina perfect tremor of nervousness for what might follow. Tony was no goodat pretending, but, as good luck would have it, there was no need ofmake-believe on his part, for he had been so tired he had fallen fastasleep as soon as he had cuddled down under the bedclothes, and Mrs. Pike, after just a glance, came away quite satisfied. Then Kitty heardher approaching their room. 

"Oh!" she thought with dismay, "she is bringing Anna with her;" forMrs. Pike was talking to some one in a low voice. "What bad luck; Annasees through everything. I wonder if Betty hears too. If she doesn'tshe is sure to jump. Betty! Betty!" she called, as loud as she dared, but the next moment the door opened and Aunt Pike entered with a candlein her hand, and followed by Anna. 

"Dear, dear, " she said, as she tripped over something, "how untidy!What is it, Anna?"

Anna stooped and picked up one of Betty's discarded gray stockings. For once Betty's untidiness served them a good turn. Seeing thestockings on the floor, it never occurred to Aunt Pike but that they hadboth undressed and got into bed in the usual fashion. The first thing, though, that caught Anna's eye was the red bow in Kitty's hair. 

"I--I didn't know--" she began, then glanced quickly at Betty's head, where the blue bow showed up against the pillow, but instead ofremarking on it she suddenly grew silent. Kitty marvelled, for she hadremembered their hair ribbons almost at the same moment as Anna hadcaught sight of them, and it was all she could do not to put up her handand grab hers off. With the remembrance she almost gave up hope ofescaping detection, and wished devoutly that they had stayed downstairsand faced the consequences; for to be found out now, hiding in bed inthis fashion, made a discreditable matter of what was really not a verybad one. But, to her increasing amazement, Anna said nothing, not evenwhen Aunt Pike said, "I must speak to Katherine in the morning. She haseither neglected to brush her hair at all, or she is very extravagant intying it up for the night with a good piece of ribbon. Now come away, darling; it is quite time you were in bed. I am sure you must be quiteexhausted. You know I did tell you I thought you would not be able toshow them your prize to-night. "

"Prize!" gasped Betty, sitting up in bed as soon as ever their visitors'backs were turned. "Has she _really_ got a prize? I didn't think itcould be true when Aunt Pike said she would get one. Anyhow, I wondershe isn't ashamed to show it, for she knows it would have been yours ifshe hadn't behaved so disgustingly. But Anna is never ashamed of whatshe does, no matter how bad it is. "

"Oh yes, she is, " said Kitty thoughtfully. "I think she is dreadfullyashamed sometimes of some things, and very sorry. "

"Then why doesn't she say so?" snapped Betty crossly. 

"I believe she doesn't know how to. She is shy, or--or something; but Ido believe she would like to be able to. " And she thought of the abjectway in which Anna had followed her about for days after that affair atHillside, and had tried to do things for her; and in her heart she knewthat it was Anna's curious way of expressing her gratitude to her fornot exposing her meanness. "I believe, " she went on musingly, "that ifshe could undo all that--that fuss in any other way than by owning up, that she would; but there isn't any other way, and she hasn't got pluckenough to do it in the right one. I believe she would rather die thanhave Aunt Pike know how she behaved. Oh dear, I do wish I hadn't to getup again and undress. "

"So do I, " agreed Betty. "I really can't brush my hair to-night, I am_so_ sleepy. "

"I wouldn't, " said Kitty, who had a little habit of saying the mostcomfortable thing. "Give it an extra brushing to-morrow; that will do. "

"Very well, " agreed Betty, "I will remember, " and in another moment wasfast asleep. 

Kitty lay down and drew the bedclothes cosily about her until a few darkcurls and a scarlet bow were all that were visible, but go to sleep shecould not. Thoughts went racing through her brain in the mostdistracting manner--thoughts of the school and all the unpleasant endingof her short connection with it; thoughts of Anna and her mother, andAnna's want of courage. 

"I believe she isn't really a bad sort, " mused Kitty, "and yet--and yetshe does do such mean things, and doesn't seem to see that they aremean; and she thinks that the only way to please people is to say nastythings of some one else to them; and then, of course, one feels that toother people she says the same of oneself. One can't help it. I dowish she was different. I believe I could like her if she was. "

Presently her thoughts merged into dreams, but such unpleasant ones thatshe was quite glad to awaken from them; and so, constantly dozing andhalf-waking, and dozing again, the hours wore on until at last she awokereally wide awake, with a very strong and alarming feeling thatsomething was amiss, or that something unusual was happening. She hadnot the faintest idea what it could be, and though she sat up in bed andlistened, she could not see or hear anything. The house seemed quietand still, and yet there were sounds--curious, mysterious sounds thatceased while she listened for them, and left her wondering if she werestill dreaming, or if her ears were playing her tricks. Her first fearwas that there might be something the matter with Tony; then she thoughtof Dan. 

"I must go and see, " she thought, and slipped very gently out of bed andinto her dressing-gown. When she was outside the door she paused tolisten. Yes, there certainly were sounds, and they came from Dan'sroom, sounds of whispering and movements, and--yes, there was a curioussmell. "I believe it is fire!" she gasped, and ran down the corridor. Dan's room was nearly at the end of it, and faced the staircase. Tony's was a tiny room between the girls' and Dan's, while Anna's roomwas beyond Dan's again. Kitty looked in at Tony, and found him safe, and sleeping comfortably; then she hurried on. Dan's door was slightlyajar, and there was a dim light within; here also was the curious smellwhich had greeted Kitty's nose, only stronger, and here also was Anna, in her gray dressing-gown, sitting on the floor, and apparently huggingherself in an agony of pain. "What has happened? What is the matter?Dan, tell me!"

At the first sound of her voice Dan wheeled round, and Anna started upwith a scream. 

"How you did startle me!" cried Dan in a hoarse whisper. "But I'mawfully glad you've come. " Dan's face was perfectly white, and he wastrembling visibly. "Kitty, what _can_ I do? I have been such a--such afool; worse than a fool. Look!" holding up a paper partly burnt, andpointing to a scorched mark on the curtain. 

"Oh!" gasped Kitty. "O Dan, how did it happen? What were you doing?Reading in bed? You might have been burnt to death. "

"I should have been--we all should have been, and the house burnt down, if it hadn't been for Anna, " groaned Dan. "It'll teach me never to readin bed again. I thought I was quite wide awake too. But look at Anna;do try and do something for her. She has burnt her hands horribly, andI didn't know what to put on them. What can I do? Kitty, do dosomething; she is in frightful pain, and she was so plucky. "

Even in her great pain Anna looked up gratified by this praise. Kitty gently lifted her hands and looked at them, then laid them downagain with a little shocked cry, for the whole of the palms and thefingers were covered with burns. 

"Oh you poor, poor thing!" she cried. --"Dan, do creep down to thesurgery, and bring up the bottle of carron oil. You will find it on thefloor by the window. Father always keeps it there. --O Anna, " puttingher arms round her cousin's quivering shoulders, "how you must besuffering! I am _so_ sorry. I wish I could bear it for you. "

Anna was almost beyond speaking, but she laid her head back againstKitty's arm with a sigh of relief. "O Kitty, I am so glad to have donesomething for you--that's all I think of. I don't mind the pain. You have done so much for me, and I--I wanted to make it up to yousomehow. "

"Don't you ever think of that again, " said Kitty solemnly. "You havesaved Dan's life, perhaps all our lives, and that wipes out everything. But oh! poor Dan, won't he be in a scrape to-morrow when this is allfound out!"

"But it won't be found out, " said Anna. "We can easily get rid of thepaper, and the mark on the curtain won't show unless one looks for it;and, you see, it won't be taken down till the winter is over, andthen--"

"But your hands, " cried Kitty. "How can we explain about your burns?"

"Oh--h, " said Anna slowly, as she tried to think of some plan, "I willjust say it is an accident--I needn't explain. "

"But I shall, " said Kitty firmly. "I am not going to have anydeceitfulness. We will all stand together, but you aren't going tosuffer for Dan. Dan wouldn't stand it, and I should be ashamed of himif he did. "

Anna did not answer, and Kitty thought she had won. Dan returned withthe oil, and from his own drawer produced a generous supply of tornhandkerchiefs. 

"How did you find out about the fire?" questioned Kitty, as she bound upthe poor hands as skilfully as she knew how. Her "skill" would havemade a surgeon or a nurse smile, but the result was soothing andcomforting. 

"I woke up suddenly and thought I smelt burning; then I was sure I did, and I got out and opened my door and saw a bright light shining underDan's door. " Here Anna had the grace to blush, for she rememberedanother occasion when she had seen a light shining under a door, and had_not_ flown in a frenzy of fear to save those inside. "I crept down thepassage, and then I knew that the smell of burning was coming from Dan'sroom. I knocked, but he didn't answer, and the light grew so brightthat I got frightened, and I rushed in and snatched the paper out of hishand, and beat out the flames. " Her face, which had been very flushed, was now deadly white. "I think I will go back to bed now, " she saidfaintly, "I am dreadfully tired. "

And dreadfully tired she was too, thoroughly exhausted and overcome. Kitty helped her to her room and tucked her in her bed, and as she wasbending over her, Anna raised her usually restless eyes to her verypleadingly. 

"Kitty, you must let me have my own way, or I shan't feel that I've doneanything towards--towards wiping out--you know what I mean. "

"I know, " said Kitty. "We won't talk any more about it to-night. We will wait until to-morrow. Good-night, Anna, " and for the first timein her life she kissed Anna willingly. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

MOKUS AND CARROTS. 

Kitty heard Dan go downstairs the next morning just as she was finishingdressing, and her heart thumped painfully, for she knew he was going toconfess. When confessions had to be made Dan always made them asquickly as possible so as to get them off his mind. Kitty hurriedlyfinished her dressing, and followed him with some vague idea in her mindof helping him. 

But when they got down there was no one else about, and before they hadseen any one to whom to confess, Mrs. Pike burst into the dining-roomwhere they stood, miserably enough, waiting. 

"Kitty, Dan, do either of you know where your father is? I want him tocome to Anna. She is so unwell, and in some extraordinary way has burnther hands dreadfully. Oh dear! oh dear! what troubles do come upon me. I suppose it was foolish of me to leave her last night to put herself tobed when she was so tired. I might have known she would tumble over thelamp, or do something equally careless. It was kind of you, Kitty, toattend to her burns for her, poor child, but you should have come andcalled me. " There were tears in Aunt Pike's eyes as she turned to thankher niece. "You--she--Anna need not have been afraid. I did not know Iwas so harsh with her that she was afraid to--" and poor Aunt Pike brokeoff, quite overcome. The shock of finding Anna feverish and ill, andwith her hands bandaged, had upset her greatly. 

Dan, sincerely touched and conscience-stricken, stepped forward. "Aunt Pike, " he began, "I--"

But Kitty with a look and a sign checked him. "Wait, " she whispered. "I think you had better wait, or you may make things worse for Anna. "

Dan looked distressed. "I don't think I shall, " he answered testily, asAunt Pike went out of the room. "I hate mystery. Why can't we speakout and have it over? I am going to, Kitty. "

"I want you to, as much as you do, " she answered in a troubled voice, "but we have to think of Anna. She did so much for us last night, and--well, I believe if we were to tell Aunt Pike all about it now, it wouldhurt her more than ever, because she would think Anna had been deceivingher; and Anna did not mean to, she only meant to be kind to us. "

So Dan, though most unwillingly, had to agree. It annoyed him, and hurthis dignity, and offended his sense of honour to have to let Anna bearthe weight of his misdoing; but he still hoped that when he could seeAnna she might consent to his making a full confession. Here, though, he was again doomed to disappointment, for Anna only turned to himpleadingly. "Don't say anything about it, " she cried. "O Dan, don't!If mother was to know now she would be more angry than ever, and shewould never trust me again, or forgive either of us. "

So Dan, out of his gratitude to her, had to give in; and there thematter rested for the time at least. But it had brought about twoimportant changes--it cured Dan, and all of them, for some time, oftheir love of reading in bed; and it made them more tolerant in theirfeelings towards Anna. 

Christmas, since that last one their mother had spent with them, hadnever been a festive or a happy season in Dr. Trenire's house. To thedoctor it was too full of sad memories for him to be able to make it gayor cheerful for his children, and the children did not know how to setabout making it so for themselves, while Aunt Pike had no ideas on thesubject beyond sending and receiving a few cards, giving Anna ahalf-sovereign to put in the savings bank, and ordering a rather moreelaborate dinner on Christmas Day. 

Kitty, Dan, and Betty this year felt a real yearning for a Christmassuch as they had read of, and discussed all manner of impossible plans, but there it all ended. Dr. Trenire gave them a book each, and they sataround the schoolroom fire reading them and munching the sweets they hadclubbed together to buy, and that was all the festivity they had thatyear. 

It was a damp, mild season, unseasonable and depressing, pleasantneither for going out nor for staying indoors; and Dan, who had lessthan five weeks' holidays, and had already had one of them spoilt by theweather, grumbled loudly, fully convinced that he had every reason to doso. 

But with January came a change to high, cold winds, which dried up themud, and, having done that much service, departed, to be followed bydays of glorious sunshine. Just about the middle of the month Mrs. Pike had to go away for a week or two to visit her sister in Yorkshire, and with this circumstance, and the lovely weather combined, thechildren's spirits rose. Dan had but a fortnight's holiday left, it istrue, but they meant to enjoy every possible minute of that fortnight, and to begin with they decided on an expedition to Helbarrow Tors, oneof their most beloved of picnic places. Anna had never seen thatwonderful spot, and Anna, who did not accompany her mother on herYorkshire visit, was to be introduced to all its beauties on the veryday after her mother's departure. 

As though knowing what was expected of it, the day broke mostpromisingly. Of course it was not really light until about eighto'clock--in fact, they got up and had their breakfast by gaslight, forthey really could not stay in bed late with such prospects as they hadbefore them; but already the weather signs were good, and Jabez was mostencouraging. 

"I'll back a mist like that there, " he said, "agin anything for turningout a fine day. You mark my words now, Miss Kitty; and I'll go rightalong and get that there donkey and cart for fear anybody else should beput in the mind to 'ave a little egscursion too, and get un furst. "

Fanny was as amiable as Jabez. When Kitty went out to the kitchen tosee about their food for the day she found her with a row of baskets onthe table before her, and Dan sitting on the corner of it superintendingher doings. 

"There, Miss Kitty, " she exclaimed, "that's the salt I've just put in, so don't anybody say I forgot it, and don't anybody go unpacking itany'ow or it'll be upset; and we don't want no bad luck, do we?"

Kitty looked at the baskets joyfully. 

"I've put in what I calls a good allowance for six. Do 'ee thinkthat'll be enough?" asked Fanny anxiously, "or shall I put in a bit morecake, and a pasty or two extra? P'r'aps I'd better. "

"Perhaps you had, " said Kitty thoughtfully. "You see, we have the wholeday, and one does get hungry out of doors, and there is never a shopanywhere near--and if there is, we never have any money to spend in it. "

Even while she was speaking Fanny was stowing the extra pasties and cakeinto the basket. "Now, Master Dan, remember that's the basket you'm tocarry, " pointing to a large square one with the cover securely fasteneddown. "There's nothing to eat in it, but it's the 'eaviest, 'cause it'sgot the milk in it, and a bottle of methylated spirits and the littlestove in case you can't get no sticks nor no fire. "

"O Fanny, you _are_ cruel, " sighed Dan. "I really don't know, " with avery good imitation of a catch in his voice, "how you can say to me thenasty things you do. "

"Ah!" said Fanny, with a knowing shake of her head. "I may be cruel, and I have my failings, but I can read you through and through, MasterDan, same as if you was a printed book. You take my word for that. "

"X rays aren't in it, " cried Dan. "Eyes of a hawk, and a heart ofstone. What a combination!"

"That there littlest basket, " went on Fanny, turning to Kitty, "is forMaster Tony; and you must see that Master Dan don't get hold of it, andlet his little brother wear hisself out carrying the 'eavy one. "

"Fanny, what do you take me for?"

"I take 'ee for what you are, " said Fanny calmly--"an anointed younglimb, and as artful as you are high. "

"Wait till I have gone back to school, " said Dan wistfully, "then everycruel and unjust thing you have said and thought of me will come back toyou, and 'Too late, ah, too late, ' you will moan as you sob yourselfill; 'and I loved that boy better than any one in the whole wideworld!'"

Which had enough of truth in it to make Fanny quite cross, or seem tobe. 

"Master Tony's basket has got some lunch in it for you all to eat onyour way. There's a little pasty each, and some biscuits. I did put ina big one for Master Dan, but I've more'n half a mind to take it outagain, seeing as he's be'aving so, sitting on the table and swinging hislegs. I s'pose those are the manners they learns him to school!"

Dan chuckled. "I wish they did, " he said. "No, it's only you who letme behave myself as I like, Fanny. No one else in the wide world is sokind to me. O Fanny, I wish you were coming with us. "

"So do I, " cried Kitty. "Wouldn't it be fun!" And Fanny, quitemollified, did not remove Dan's big pasty. 

The door opened and Jabez came in. "I've got the moke, " he said; "he'sin the yard; and I've put a few carrots in the cart for 'ee to 'tice unalong with, for if that there creetur haven't made up his mind a'readynot to see Helbarrow Tor this day--well, I'm a Dutchman, and whatever myfailings I ain't that yet. "

"The only enticing he'll get from me will be with the whip, " said Danwith great scorn, "so you can take out the carrots again. " But Jabezshook his head wisely. 

"They won't take up much room, " he said. "I'll put 'em in the nose-bag, and if you don't need 'em on the way, you can give 'em to the creeturwhen he gets there, by way of encouraging un another time. Now, are youall ready, miss? It's best for 'ee to start before he falls asleepagain, for they'm always poor-tempered if they'm woke up, and thenthey'm obstinater than ever. "

The five of them could not all get into the cart at once, at least notwith any comfort, so they always, on these excursions, took it in turnto ride and tie; and Dan, who did not crave for the glory of drivingMokus through the street, walked on with Betty, leaving the others tofollow. 

It was certainly cold when first they started; the air was fresh andbiting, with a touch of frost in it, and the sun had not yet come out. Anna shivered beneath her fur-lined cloak, and Tony, thrusting his handsdeep down in his pockets, snuggled down between Kitty and Anna, and feltvery glad for once that he was not allowed an outside seat. 

But by degrees the sun shone through the misty grayness, bathing theroad before them, and lighting up the bare hedges on either side untilit really seemed that spring had come, that the fresh morning air wascertainly full of the scent of primroses and violets, and the sweetearthy smell of moss. The birds evidently thought so too, for they camefluttering and flying from all manner of cosy hiding-places, and, undaunted by the sight of the brown branches and the leafless twigs, boldly perched themselves on telegraph wires and trees to survey thescene while they made their summer plans. 

What more could one want than brown branches if the sun was on them!And how could one hurry or worry, or do anything but revel quietly inthe beauty that lay all about one, and tell oneself there were no graydays to come!

Mokus, for one, evidently felt that this was no occasion for haste, andKitty did not contradict him. She herself felt that she wanted tolinger over every moment, and get the fullest enjoyment out of it all. 

Dan, however, had other views, and when, at the foot of Tremellen Hill, they found him and Betty perched on a low bridge awaiting them, heupbraided them plaintively for their waste of time. 

"But no girl ever could drive, even a donkey, " he said loftily. "He will find out now that he has met his master. Get up, Betty. Do bequick. I want to reach Helbarrow to-day, and it must be lunch-timealready. " At which Tony, who was scrambling down from the cart, reachedback for his basket. 

"I fink I'd better take it wiv me, " he said gravely. "If they are goingso fast, p'r'aps we shan't see them any more till we get there. "

"I think we needn't be afraid of that, " said Anna sarcastically, "if wedon't walk too fast. "

Oh what a day it was! and what a donkey! and what a journey! And oh thetime it took! and how they did enjoy it all! When they had walked forabout a mile or more, the three sat down to rest and await the carriagefolk, of whom they had not caught a glimpse since they walked away andleft them. Then by degrees Tony's luncheon basket assumed a prominentposition in their thoughts and before their eyes. Morning air, particularly in January, is hungry air; and to wait, with the food underyour very nose, and not be free to eat it, is not easy. 

"I really must go back a little way to see if they are anywhere near, "said Kitty at last, growing impatient and hungry. Anna and Tony werehungry too, but they were too comfortable and lazy to move, so theyleaned luxuriously amongst the dry twigs and leaves and dead grass inthe hedge, and watched Kitty as she walked eagerly back again along thelevel road they had just travelled. When she reached the brow of thehill she stopped, and the next moment a peal of laughter announced thefact that she had caught sight of the laggards. 

It was unkind, perhaps, of her to laugh. Dan thought it was "beastlymean, " but then he was not in a frame of mind to see the humour of thesituation, for up the whole of that long steep hill he had marched atMokus's head, tugging with all his might at the bridle with one hand, while the other held a huge carrot just beyond the obstinate creature'sreach. Dan was not only hot and tired and out of patience, but he wasextremely mortified. 

"Where is Betty?" called Kitty, trying to check her laughter. 

Betty, hearing her name, came round from the back of the cart; she wasalmost purple in the face, and looked quite exhausted. 

"I've been pushing, " she gasped. "I believe it would have been easierto have been harnessed in the shafts. "

"You poor little thing, " cried Kitty. "You must rest now and I'll takea turn, and you shall both have our turn in the cart after lunch, and wewill walk. We aren't a bit tired. "

"Thank you, " they said, with stern decision in their voices, "we wouldrather walk; it is so much easier. "

Kitty felt quite sorry for them. "Anna and Tony are only a little wayahead, " she said encouragingly. "We've got such a jolly place to haveour lunch in, and we will have a nice rest there. Give the poor thingthe carrot now, Dan. "

"Give him the carrot!" cried Dan indignantly. "I should like to seemyself! After his behaviour, he'll never even have a sniff of it again, if I can help it, " and Dan sent the carrot flying over the hedge to showthat he meant what he said. 

A good lunch, though, restored both his strength and his temper, andafter it was over they all managed to pack into the cart for the rest ofthe short distance they had to go. Anna took the reins this time, andwhether it was that Mokus felt the firmness of her grip, or guessed thatrest and freedom for a few hours lay awaiting him at the end of anothermile, no one knew, but he started off down the next hill at quite aquick trot, which he never once slackened until he was drawn up besidethe low stone hedge which in some long-past age had been erected aroundthe foot of the tors. Dan declared it was the weight of himself andBetty on the tail-board which made him go, and having once been startedhe could not stop if he wanted to. In any case Mokus was forgiven, andit was with very kindly hands and many a pat that they unharnessed himfrom the cart and tethered him by a long rope to the stump of a stuntedhawthorn bush, close to the remains of a little hut, which, with the oldwall, had often caused the children much speculation as to when and whyit was built there, and by whom. 

Then, each carrying a basket, they started to climb to the top to findfirst of all a cosy, sheltered spot for a dining-room. On the tors thesun was shining and the wild thyme smelling as sweetly as though it wereApril rather than January. 

"Oh, look at the robins!" cried Tony delightedly. They were pausing intheir climb, and the little bright-eyed, warm-breasted creatures werehopping about them quite boldly. "Kitty, do let me give them somecrumbs, they are such darlings, and I think they are quite glad to seeus. They aren't a bit afraid. "

 "'To see a robin in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage, '"

quoted Kitty dreamily. 

Anna looked quite shocked. "O Kitty, " she said, "how can you? You arequite profane. "

Kitty laughed. "Am I?" she said. "What a dreadful word to use!I didn't mean to be. I didn't make up those lines, you know. Oh, don'tyou think, " she went on eagerly, "it would be a nice game to try howmany different verses about robins we can remember?"

"Do you mean nursery verses and all?" asked Dan. Kitty nodded; herbrain was already busy. 

"I think it will be lovely, " said Betty. "I know quite a lot. "

"Go ahead then, " urged Dan, "and remember to give author and book. "

"Nursery verses and nursery rhymes haven't got any author, " said Bettywith a very superior air. 

Dan was on the alert at once; he loved to torment Betty. 

"No author! Oh! oh! what an appalling display of childish ignorance, "he cried in pretended horror, "and after all the trouble I have takenwith you too. My dear child, don't you know that some one must havecomposed them or they wouldn't be--but there, I suppose little childrencan't be expected to understand these things. "

"But I do, " cried Betty indignantly. "You don't know all I know. I know a great deal more than you think, though you may not think so. "

"Dear me! Do you really now?" said Dan, pretending to be enormouslyimpressed. "What a genius we may have in the family without our eversuspecting it. Tell us who wrote:

 "'And when they were dead, The robins so red Took strawberry leaves and over them spread, '"

"What would be the good?" said Betty, with a sigh as if of hopelessdespair. "You wouldn't reckernize the name if I told you. "

"No, I don't expect I should, " laughed Dan derisively. "Not the way youwould pronounce it, at least. "

"Stop teasing her, Dan, " cried Kitty. "We all of us have to think. Let us take it in turns. Now then, you begin. "

For a moment Dan looked somewhat taken aback, then memory came suddenlyto him. 

 "'Who killed Cock Robin? "I, " said the Spar--'"

"That is not right, " said Betty; "you are not beginning at thebeginning; you are missing out half. "

"Of course, as if I didn't know that, " retorted Dan, but he lookedrather foolish; "but we are only here for the day, after all, and I amnot going to spend it all in saying nursery rhymes. If we were going tostay a week it would be different. "

"That's all very well, but _I_ believe you don't know it, " said Bettysoftly but decisively. 

Whereupon Dan in great wrath burst forth, --

 "'It was on a merry time When Jenny Wren was young, '" etc. , etc. 

When he had chanted three verses, they begged him to stop. When he hadreached the twelfth they all went on their knees to him and implored himto stop; but no, on he went, and on and on to the very last line. "Next time, " he said, turning to Betty when he had reached the end, "I hope you will believe me. "

"If I don't I won't say so, " remarked Betty softly, with a sigh ofrelief; "but of course I can't make myself believe you if I don't. "

"Oh, can't you?" said Dan. "You try once and see. Now then, Anna, yourturn. "

"I don't know anything about robins, " said Anna. "Mother thoughtnursery rhymes were foolish. So do I. "

"Oh no, you don't really, " cried four voices in tones of mingledamazement and disgust. 

"Yes, I do. Why not?"

"What a pity, " said Kitty softly. "I think they are beautiful. I amglad my mother thought so too, But it need not be a nursery rhyme, Anna. Don't you know, "'Little bird with bosom red, Welcome to my humble shed, '

"or any other?"

"Ye--es, " said Anna doubtfully. "I had to learn that once at school, but, somehow, I didn't think that it was about a robin. "

"What did you think it was about?" asked Kitty. 

"Oh, I don't know. I thought it was just poetry. I never think poetryhas any meaning in it. It seems to me such silly stuff, all aboutnothing. "

"I suppose even poetry must be about something, " said Dan sarcastically. 

"I don't think so, " said Anna. She, the prize-winner of her class, wasnot going to be snubbed by her cousins. "As long as the words rhyme, itdoesn't matter what the rest is like. "

To Kitty that seemed neither the time nor the place to argue with Anna, so she let the subject drop. "Now then, Betty. "

"I know so many, " said Betty very anxiously, "that they seem to be alljumbled up in my head, and I can't get one quite right. Let me seenow--"

"Do let me say mine while you are finking. Shall I?" pleaded Tonyeagerly. 

 "Little Robin Redbreast Perched upon a tree, Up went Pussy Cat And down went he. '"

By the time he reached the end of the second verse he was almostbreathless. "I was afraid you would say it before me, " he gasped as heconcluded the last line; "that's why I hurried so. "

"Oh, I was trying to think of something much more--more, well, not sobabyish; more like what Kitty said than what you and Dan said. "

"Perhaps you had better compose something yourself, " said Dan, "and wewill go on and light the fire and get the dinner ready while you areabout it. "

"You needn't be in a bad temper, " retorted Betty severely, "even if youcouldn't make the donkey go. " And Dan thought perhaps it might be wisernot to torment his younger sister any more. 

CHAPTER XV. 

MISSING!

They all struggled to their feet after that, collected their baskets, and resumed their climb, over big boulders, through furze and bracken, dead now and withered, but beautiful in the glow of the clear wintrysunshine, until at last they came to an immense flat rock, with anotherrising high behind it, sheltering them from the wind and catching everygleam of sunshine that possibly could be caught. 

Here they spread their cloth, laying large pebbles on the corners of itto keep it down, and on it they spread their feast, and then at lastthere was nothing left to do but sit down and enjoy it. The sun shonequite warmly, a soft little breeze blew up from the valley, bringingwith it the mingled scents of peat smoke, crushed thyme, and wet moss. From their high perch they looked down on long stretches of brown fieldsploughed in ridges, with here and there a big gray rock dropped intothe middle of it, and here and there a roughly-built cottage, not muchbigger, seemingly, than some of the rocks. In a distant field a man wascarrying mangolds to a flock of sheep. The bleating of the sheepfloated up to them through the still air, and, with the voices of thebirds, made the only sounds of life that reached them. The scene, though lovely in the eyes of the children, was desolate to a degree. Scarcely a tree marked the landscape, and those there were were bowedand stunted, leaning landwards as though running before the cold windswhich blew with such force across the few miles of flat, bare countrywhich alone lay between them and the Atlantic Ocean. 

To-day, though, it was hard to believe that that sunny spot was often sobleak and storm-swept that man and beast avoided it. Anna gazed abouther wonderingly, but somewhat awed. 

"It seems dreadfully wild and lonely, " she said, with a shiver. "And how flat and ugly it is, all but these tors. I wonder how theycame to be here like this. I should think the people who used to livehere must have piled up all these rocks to clear them out of the fields. They left a good many behind, though. "

"No one could have lifted rocks like these, and piled them up likethis, " said Dan scornfully. "They were thrown up like this by anearthquake, father says, and after the earthquake the sea--you know thesea used to cover all the country as far as we can see--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Anna. "Now you are trying to take me in; butyou won't make me believe such nonsense as that. "

"Very well, " crossly, "don't believe it then; only don't ask questionsanother time if you mean to turn round and sneer when a fellow tries toexplain. I suppose you won't believe either that giants used to livehere?"

Anna laughed even more scornfully. "No, I will not, " she said loftily. "I am not quite stupid enough to believe all the nonsense you would liketo make me. "

"If you could only realize it, it is you who are talking nonsense, " saidDan crushingly, and he turned away from her. He was not going to tellany of his beloved legends and stories for Anna to sneer at. "It issimply a sign of ignorance, " he said, with his most superior air, "notto believe in things because we haven't actually seen them with our veryown eyes. I suppose you will not believe that St. Michael's Mount usedto be surrounded with woods where there is sea now, until a huge waverushed in and swamped everything, right up to the foot of the Mount, andnever went back again?"

"No, " said Anna obstinately, "of course I shouldn't believe it. Such things couldn't happen. It is silly to tell such stories as youCornish people do, and expect other people to believe them. "

Kitty looked at her in pained surprise. It seemed to her that Anna'sway of speaking was quite irreverent. She longed to know, yet shrankfrom asking her, if she scorned, too, those other stories, so preciousand real to Kitty, the story of King Arthur in his hidden resting-place, waiting to be roused from his long sleep; of Tristram and Iseult asleepin the little chapel beneath the sea; of--oh, a hundred others of giantsand fairies, witches and spectres. But she held her peace rather thanhear them scoffed at and discredited. 

The sunshine, chased by a cloud and a fresh little breeze, disappeared. Anna shivered and looked about her. 

"Oh, how gloomy and lonely it all looks directly the sun goes in!" shecried. "I should hate to be here in the dark, or in a storm. Shouldn'tyou, Kitty? I think I should die of fright; I know I should if I werehere alone. "

"I'd love to be here in a storm, " said Kitty firmly, "a realthunderstorm. It would be grand to watch it all from the top of thetors. I don't think I would very much mind being up here all nighteither. You see, there is nothing that could possibly hurt one, no wildbeasts or robbers. Bad people would be afraid to come. "

"I think it would be perfectly dreadful, " shuddered Anna. "You wouldnever know who was coming round the rocks, or who was hiding; androbbers could come behind you and catch you, and you wouldn't be able tosee or hear them until they were right on you; and you might scream andscream with all your might and main and no one would hear you. "

"If I sneered at giants, I wouldn't talk of robbers if I were you, " saidDan severely. "Imagine robbers coming to a place like this!Why, there's nothing and nobody to rob. "

"They would come here to hide, of course, not to rob, " said Annacrushingly, and Dan felt rather small. 

Betty and Tony began to feel bored. 

"I am going to get sticks for the fire, " said Betty. "Come along, Tony. You others can come, too, if you like. "

"Betty is beginning to think of her tea already, " laughed Dan, but theyall joined her in her search--not that there was any need to search, fordry sticks and furze bushes lay all around them in profusion. 

"Oh, here's the cromlech, " cried Kitty, coming suddenly on the greatrock, which was poised so lightly on top of other great rocks that itwould sway under the lightest touch, yet had remained unmoved by all thestorms and hurricanes of the ages that had passed over it. She ranlightly up and on to it, and stood there swaying gently, the breezefluttering out her skirts and flushing her cheeks. 

"You must make a wish while you are standing on it, and then if you canmake the rock move you will get your wish, " explained Betty to Anna. "It isn't every one who can. I don't suppose you could, 'cause youdon't believe in things like we do. "

Nevertheless Anna was bent on trying, and grew quite cross because therock would not move for her. "No, I don't believe it, " she snapped. "You Cornish people are so suppositios; and it is _dreadfully_ ignorantto be so. Mother said so. "

Dan fairly shrieked with delight; he always did when Anna or Betty useda wrong word, particularly if it was a long one. 

"Though it is so early, I am going to light the fire now, " said Kitty, anxious to make a diversion and prevent squabbles, "because I want tosmell the smell of the burning fuz. "

Which she did then and there; and then, perhaps in absent-mindedness, she put the kettle on, and it boiled before any one could believe thewater was even warm, and then, of course, there was nothing to be donebut make the tea and drink it. But the air up there was so wonderfulthat no matter how quickly the meals came the appetites were ready. 

"The smell of the smoke was feast enough in itself, " Kitty said. 

But she did not omit to take a liberal share of more solid food as well. And oh! how good it all tasted--the tea, the bread and butter, thesaffron cake, all had a flavour such as they never had elsewhere, andthe air was growing fresh enough to make the hot tea very acceptable andcomfortable. 

They did not sit long after they had done, for it really was beginningto grow chilly. 

"Now you had all better go and have a game of some kind or other, " saidKitty, "and I will pack the baskets ready to go into the cart, and thenI'll come and play too. "

It took her longer, though, than she had counted on to pack all thethings so that they would travel safely, and she had put them in andtaken them out again so many times that when at last she had done, andglanced up with a sigh of relief to look for the others, she saw withdismay that the short winter's day was well-nigh over. The sun haddisappeared quite suddenly, leaving behind it a leaden, lowering sky, while in the distance hung a thick mist, which told of heavy rain notfar off. 

"I will call the others. I think we had better be starting soon; theweather has changed, " she murmured, and, springing to her feet, sheshouted, and shouted, and shouted again. No answer came. 

Still calling, she went around the tors to another point, but she couldcatch no glimpse of any living being, and in that great waste of rocksand furze and underbrush it was not surprising. Kitty, though, wassurprised and a little bit alarmed, and she ran from point to point, calling and calling again; but for a long time the only answer was thelong sighs the wind gave as it rushed over the level land, and lostitself with a little wail of anger amongst the old tors. Then at lastcame a long shout, and Dan appeared, and almost at the same moment adrop fell smartly on Kitty's cheek, then another and another, andsuddenly a heavy downpour descended on them. 

"I saw it coming, " gasped Dan. "Look!" and Kitty looked across the landstretching below, and saw rain in a dense column rushing towards them, driven by a squall which dashed it into them pitilessly. 

In little more than a moment the whole place had changed from a sunny, idyllic little paradise to a bleak, howling wilderness, lonely, weird, exposed to all the worst storms of heaven. 

"Where are the others?" gasped Kitty, seizing some of the packages torun with them to the cart. 

"I told them not to climb up here again, but to start for home and wewould overtake them as quickly as we could. It wasn't raining then, orI'd have told them to run to the little shanty; but I should thinkthey'd have the sense to do that, " said Dan. 

"Oh yes, I expect they are all right. Now then, run, but runcarefully, " added Kitty. "All the cups are in that basket, and AuntPike will be very angry if we break any. "

But it was not easy to run at all, or even to hurry down that ruggedslope, while carrying five baskets and a rug or two, with a squallcatching them at every turn, and the short, dry grass becoming asslippery as glass with the rain; but at long last they reached the footand the little hut, and there they found Betty struggling with all hermight to get Mokus between the shafts of the cart. 

"He will have to be taken out again, I expect, " said Dan in an aside toKitty. "She has probably done up every strap wrongly. It is good ofher, though, to try. "

"I am glad she made Tony stand in under shelter, " said Kitty thankfully, as her eye fell on her little brother in the doorway of the hut. "Where is Anna? I suppose she is inside. "

"You bet, " said Dan shortly. "Anna knows how to take care of herself. "

But Anna was not in the shanty, or anywhere within reach of theirshouts. 

"I expect she is ever so far towards home by now, " said Betty absently, quite absorbed in the interest of harnessing Mokus. "She started towalk home as fast as ever she could. I called to her to wait, but shewouldn't listen. "

"Oh, well, it's all right; she can't miss the road, and we shall soonovertake her, " said Dan. "Now then, in you get. "

It was great fun packing themselves into the cart. Betty and Tony, ingreat spirits, sat in the bottom of it, with a rug drawn over them likea tent, and two little peepholes to peer through, and were as happy andwarm as could be. Kitty and Dan sat upon the seat with the other ruground their shoulders, and the moment they were ready and had gatheredup the reins, Mokus, who had been standing flapping his long earscrossly when the rain struck him particularly smartly, started off at areally quick trot, which covered the ground rapidly, but rattled andjolted the cart to such an extent that it was all Dan and Kitty could doto keep their seats, while as for the two in the bottom of the cart, they were tossed about like parched peas in a frying-pan. And oh! howthey all laughed! It is not always the funniest or wittiest things thatcause the most laughter, and somehow to-day the sight of Mokus flyingalong on his little hoofs, the dreary scene, the lashing rain, themselves wrapped up like a lot of gipsies, with the risk of findingthemselves at any moment tossed out and left sitting in the mud, madethem laugh and laugh until they ached. And all the time Dan kept onsaying the silliest things, and waving his whip about his head as thoughhe were a Roman driving a chariot drawn by fiery horses, urging Mokus onto a more and more reckless pace, until at last they had to beg him tostop, they were aching so with laughter. 

But except for some forlorn-looking geese on the common, who hissed atthem as they passed, they did not meet a living creature the whole ofthe way they went. 

"Cheer up, old ladies!" Dan shouted to the geese consolingly, "you'venothing on to spoil. If I'd been made to stand a flood as you have, Iwouldn't make a fuss about a little summer shower like this. "

"If you want your last glimpse of the tors, " said Kitty, who knew everyinch of the way, "look back now. " And they all looked, and allshuddered as their eyes travelled over the spot where they had so latelybeen basking in the sunshine. It looked gloomy and awe-inspiring now, with black clouds lowering over it, a heavy mist wrapping it round, while at the foot the little neglected shanty added the last desolatetouch to the wild scene. "Doesn't it seem impossible that we wereplaying there only a little while ago, " said Kitty, "and I was wishing Icould sleep there?" Then, with sudden recollection, "I wonder whereAnna is. She must have walked very fast. "

"I only hope she isn't still up there, " said Dan with a laugh, wavinghis hand towards the tors. "Poor old Anna!"

"Oh!" squealed Betty, who loved horrors and excitements, "suppose sheis, and sees us going farther and farther away from her. If she calledand called, nobody would hear her, and oh, she'll be so frightened. If she had to stay there all night, I am sure she would die of fright, "and Betty looked utterly horrified. "What shall we do? Isn't itegsciting!"

"No, not at all, " said Dan impatiently; "don't be silly. Why should shebe there? I told you all to hurry homewards, and Anna did as she wastold. That is the difference between you and Anna, you see. "

"Well, " said Betty thoughtfully, "I didn't do as I was told, but I thinkI've got the best of it--especially, " she added, "if Anna _is_ leftbehind. "

Dan seemed to take it as a personal insult that she should dwell on sucha possibility. "If you say anything more about Anna being left behind, "he said, "I'll put you out of the cart and send you back to look forher. "

"Then there would be two of us lost instead of one, " said Bettyaggravatingly, "and oh, wouldn't you get into a row when you got home!"

"She must be on ahead, " said Kitty, anxious to make peace. "Only I didn't think she had had time to get so far. "

"Perhaps some one has given her a lift, " said Dan, with sudden hope. "Anna is sharp enough to take or to ask for one if she had the chance. She knows it is a tight pack for us all to get in this cart at once, andshe would think Mokus would behave as badly going home as he did on theway out. "

This all seemed to them so likely, that they drove on again gaily, theirminds quite easy about her; all except Betty, who persisted in gazingback at the tors as long as they were in view, in the hope of seeing asignal of distress. Mokus stepped out at a pace that the carrots hadnever roused him to on the outward journey, yet darkness had come onbefore they reached Gorlay. 

"Isn't it like old times, " sighed Betty happily, "driving through thedark and the wet, and then reaching home, and changing and having ajolly tea by the fire, and there will be no Aunt Pike, and we will beable to stay up as late as we like--"

"But there will be Anna, " said Tony. "It won't be _quite_ the same. "

But, alas, there was no Anna, and her absence on this particularoccasion did much more to upset their evening than her presence wouldhave done. In answer to their inquiries as to when and how she gotback, they were told that she had not got back at all. No one had seenher, and a dreadful conviction began to steal over them that she wouldnot come--that, in fact, she was lost, and probably, as Betty hadsuggested, wandering about those dangerous tors, frightened nearly outof her senses. What was to be done? At first they were for waiting;but then, as the rain continued to stream down, and the wind to blowgustily, they felt that it was no time for delay. Something must bedone, and done quickly. 

"Oh, if only father were home!" cried Kitty despairingly. But unfortunately Dr. Trenire was in Plymouth on business, and wouldcertainly not be home that night. 

Dan sprang up, and began to put on his boots and leggings. "I am goingback there again, " he announced. "It is only three miles or so, and Ican walk it in an hour. "

"But you can't go alone. "

"Yes, I can; and I can get people out there to help me search, and if Ifind her I'll get some one to drive us home;" and flinging on his coatand cap, he was rushing out of the house before they realized what hewas doing. 

"But, Dan, " Kitty called after him, "which way are you going?"

"The same, of course. There is but one--at least only one that Annaknows, " he called back, and he raced off into the darkness before anyone could say another word. 

Kitty was vexed. "How foolish of him, " she said. "Of course there areother ways, and Anna must have taken one of them, or we should havepassed her; and he shouldn't have gone alone either, he should havetaken Jabez and a lantern. What can he do if he finds her?"

"And he may get lost too, " said Betty comfortingly. But Dan was alreadyracing up through the dark wet street, too absorbed by the heroic sideof his actions to spare a thought for the common sense. 

Kitty dropped into a chair in a state of deep despondency, blamingherself for everything. "Why had she started for home without makingsure about Anna? How wrong it was of her not to turn back! What wouldAunt Pike say when she knew?" and so the thoughts poured through hermind until she was well-nigh distracted. 

Tony, worn out by his long day in the fresh air, was fast asleep. Betty, exhausted by excitement and alarm, was scarcely able to keepawake. The servants were in the kitchen regaling themselves and Jabezwith supper and a dish of horrors, when suddenly Kitty sprang to herfeet with the force of an idea that had come to her. She would take thecarriage and Jabez, and drive very slowly and carefully by another roadstraight back to Helbarrow Tors. They would inquire at every house theypassed, and--only she did not tell Jabez this, for fear of alarminghim--if need be, they would search even the tors themselves. 

It would be very difficult, she knew; but what did difficulties matterat such a time as this? With Anna lost on such a night, her father andaunt away, and she alone responsible, they must do something, they must, they must, and quickly too. She looked at the clock; it was only seven. There was just a chance that they might find Anna and have her home inwarmth and safety by ten. She ran to the kitchen and broached her planto Jabez. He winced at the prospect, but raised no objection. Indeed, they were all too greatly alarmed to object to anything. Jabez had been picturing Anna in turn killed, walking into the water, stolen, wandering about lost and crying for help, so he could hardlyrefuse his help in rescuing her from one of these fates. 

In a very short time Prue was harnessed, and with Kitty beside him, anda pile of rugs and wraps, Jabez was driving off at a good pace, whilethose at home prepared fires and hot blankets and everything else theycould think of. 

But many long, weary hours elapsed before the fires and the hot blanketswere needed, and the next day was dawning, bleak and cold, when at last, to the intense relief and excitement of the weary watchers, old Prue'sstep was heard coming quickly down the street, and the two servants flewout to the door. But Jabez drove straight round to the yard with hisload, and there, with the help of Kitty and Dan--who was with them--theylifted down a big still bundle, which was Anna, wet through, worn out, unconscious. They carried her in very tenderly and put her to bed atonce, and everything they could do for her ease and comfort they did. But though her strength revived and the dreadful exhaustion passed away, it was soon evident that she was ill--very ill, it seemed to them--andFanny in alarm ran for Dr. Lang; and at his request telegrams were sentto Dr. Trenire and Aunt Pike, bidding them come home at once; while poorKitty, overcome with fatigue and anxiety and remorse that this shouldhave happened while she was in charge of them all, went and shut herselfup in her room, locking out even Betty. 

The story of that night's search she told later--of their long, slowdrive over the bleak roads in the teeth of a high wind and a drivingrain; of their close examination of every yard of the way, one walkingwhile the other drove; and of their hopelessness when they looked at thegateways and fields, into any of which Anna might have turned, and thelanes down which she might have wandered. But of her own feelings shecould not speak--the awful anxiety and remorse; the sense ofresponsibility and blameworthiness that filled her; her remembrance ofAnna's sacrifice for Dan the night she saved his life; her dread of whatthey might see or hear--those were feelings too deep for words. So, too, was her agony of joy and relief when at last, almost by amiracle, they came on her lying in a linhay down a lane they had verynearly overlooked in the darkness. 

How she had wandered there no one would ever know, and Anna could nevertell. She must have doubled back when she found she had taken the wrongroad, and then, in her fright and confusion, have gone round, and up anddown, until she had lost herself far more effectually than if she hadtried to. That she had met no one to ask her way of was not wonderfulon such a night and in a neighbourhood where there were only half adozen cottages altogether, and at long distances apart. 

She had recognized Kitty and Jabez when they roused her, but in herrelief had had a fit of hysterics which frightened them both nearly outof their wits, and then had fainted. 

Poor Kitty did her best to keep calm, and she and Jabez carried Anna tothe carriage, and there, wrapped in all the rugs and shawls they couldmuster, she lay in Kitty's arms while Jabez drove quickly home. 

Their shortest and best way now was the road they had travelled sohappily in the morning, so once again Kitty had a dim glimpse of thetors, standing up so lonely and desolate in the black night, lashed bythe rain and swept by the wind, but she turned her eyes away, halfshuddering. They were nearly home when they met Dan crawling along, hopeless and dead beat. He was soaked to the skin, his feet were galledand raw with walking in wet boots, but, worst of all, his search hadbeen fruitless. Crawling painfully, miserably homewards, with a mindfull of the fate that might have overtaken Anna--Anna, who had saved hislife--was it any wonder that he broke down and cried when, on hearingwheels, and turning to ask for a lift, he recognized first old Prue, then Jabez and Kitty, and, best of all, Anna, and knew that his searchwas ended?

CHAPTER XVI. 

BANISHED. 

Kitty was to be sent away to school. That was what that unlucky day haddone for Kitty. The fiat had gone forth, and there was no escape. 

Aunt Pike had been very frightened indeed when she was summoned home, and learned all about Anna's Helbarrow Tors experience, and found herseriously ill with pneumonia as a result of it. She was very angry andvery indignant, and angry fright, or fright and anger combined, make theworst form of anger as a rule. 

"Kitty was responsible, and there could not possibly be any excuse forher leaving the spot without her cousin, " declared Mrs. Pike. "Kitty knew that there were many ways amongst which she might get lost, and how lonely it was, and she and Dan should have gone in search ofpoor Anna, and not have left the place until they had found her or heardfor certain where she was. The idea of coming all the way home withouther, and with never a thought or a care as to what had become of her!It was almost incredible!"

"I did think. I did care, " pleaded Kitty. "Of course I thought she wasahead of us. I never dreamed that she could have lost her way, or ofcourse I shouldn't have come home without looking for her. "

"Then you should have dreamed, or have taken the trouble to find out. In any case, you should not have left the spot without her. "

"But we really thought she was ahead of us, " repeated Kitty earnestly, "and we hurried on to pick her up. "

"_How_ could you overtake her or pick her up, when you were hurrying asfast as you could away from her, leaving her alone, poor child, towander about that dreadful, dreadful place, in that awful storm in thedead of night?" demanded Aunt Pike angrily. 

"But--" began Kitty, then realized the hopelessness of trying toexplain, and said no more. 

"For the future I shall always feel, " said Aunt Pike severely, "that Inot only cannot trust you, Katherine, but that I can never know whatmischief you may be leading the younger ones into. I am sure they wouldnot be so wild if they hadn't you as a ringleader. "

Kitty's cheeks flamed with indignation. _She_ could not be trusted!_She_ led the others into mischief! Her eyes darkened with anger at theinjustice, for all the trouble had been caused by Anna deciding, in herpig-headed way, that she knew a short cut home, and would take itwithout waiting for the others and the donkey. She had thought shewould get home first and be able to laugh at them and Mokus. She herself had admitted as much. 

Kitty's mind travelled back over that night search--the cold, the wet, the horror of it, her own exhaustion and Dan's; then she came back againsuddenly to the present, and Aunt Pike's voice saying, --

"You know, Katherine, I have had to overlook more than one serious pieceof ill-behaviour on your part since I have been here. Of course I putdown much to the lawless, careless way in which you grew up, but, at thesame time, I must admit that, after that very unpleasant episode withLettice Kitson, I have never felt really quite easy in allowing Anna tobe much with you. I could not avoid feeling that you were havinganything but a good influence over her, and but for your poor father'ssake--"

Kitty's cheeks were white enough now, and her eyes were very wide andfull of indignation as she met her aunt's stern gaze, but there was nofear or shame in them. She opened her lips, but before a word escapedthem she closed them again, hesitated, and then walked quickly away. And the next thing she knew was that she was to be sent away, and whenshe heard it she thought her heart would break indeed. 

Her father, though most reluctantly, had agreed to the plan, because hecould see no prospect of peace or happiness for her at home. He veryoften in those days sighed deeply from a heavy heart, for his home wasvery different from what he had hoped it would be. It was true thatthings were more orderly, but the old careless joyousness, the muddleand confusion, seemed now vastly preferable. 

Aunt Pike had never approved of Kitty. Her careless, dreamy nature wasa constant offence in her eyes; her sudden impulses, her want ofconcentration, her idle moods, when she sat just thinking and thinkingand doing nothing, irritated Mrs. Pike beyond endurance. They were asopposite to each other in tastes and natures as any two persons couldbe, and neither could understand or make allowance for the other. And Dr. Trenire, seeing all this, and how they irritated and annoyedeach other, saw how bad it was, too, for Kitty's character, and at lastconsented, though very, very reluctantly, to Mrs. Pike's strongly-urgedproposals that Kitty should be sent to a boarding-school. 

Poor Kitty! If ever there was in this world one poor little mortal morestricken with home-sickness than another, that poor little mortal wasKitty. She loved every inch of the house and garden, of Gorlay, and ofher county, and every person and animal who made up her home and herhome life--loved all, too, with such an intensity that she felt it wouldbe utterly impossible to live day after day away from them. 

It was a relief to her to hear that the school she was to go to was nofarther off than Plymouth, but beyond that she took no interest in it, for the school was of Mrs. Pike's selecting, and wicked Kitty detestedit before she even knew anything about it, and made up her mind to go ondetesting it, no matter what it turned out to be. To her it was simplya prison, and she could not and would not try to love her jailers. She felt, too, a conviction that her aunt would have told Miss Pidsley, the headmistress, all the story of the suspicion which had rested onher, and told it from her own point of view, of course. 

There was one good outcome of the resentment Kitty bore her aunt for"getting her sent away, " as she put it--it made her determine not to letMrs. Pike see how much she felt it, and so helped her to bear upbravely. Helped her, that is, to bear up by day, but oh the nights!Oh, those long, miserable nights of heart-break and homesickness, whenthe pain was so intense as almost to drive her to appeal on her knees toAunt Pike to let her stay at home, to promise abjectly to be and do allthat she could wish. And there were those other terrible moments, too, when misery nearly drove her to tell the truth about Anna and Lettice. 

Those were, perhaps, the hardest impulses of all to fight, for she knewthat but to speak would mean, probably, that she would be considered fitto remain in her home, and Anna it would be who would be sent away. 

All her life after Kitty was thankful that she had had the strengthgiven her to resist this temptation, but it was a very real one at thetime. There was to be no delay in sending her away. She was to go atthe end of the Christmas holidays, and active preparations for heroutfit began at once. To Betty this was most enthralling, and largelymade up for the painful part, but Kitty took no interest in it whatever. Not even the fact of having a new Inverness and umbrella, and four newdresses all at once, not to speak of gloves, and hats, and shoes, and anumber of other things, could rouse her to any sense of pleasure. 

She was very sorry later, and wept many a bitter tear over the newblotter her father bought her, and the nice muff and boa he gave her. When it was too late, she could never see them without remembering thedelight with which he unwrapped them and gave them to her, the expectantlook in his kind eyes of the pleasure they would bring to her, and ofher own coldness, her unsmilingness, the indifference with which shetook them and laid them down with scarcely a glance, yet all the whileher heart was breaking, breaking with her love for him and all he didfor her. How could she care what she wore, or did, or used, if she wasexiled from him!

Then came the day when Mrs. Pike took her to her school and left her. It was a wet, stormy day, and Kitty sat looking through the streamingwindows at the rain-swept country with a heart as stormy. But thougheverything looked old and worn, and as unbeautiful as the day itself, she gained some consolation from the sight. "The next time I see them, "she thought, gazing wistfully at the trees and houses, the bridges andfields, "I shall be going home! home! home!"

"Yes, but thirteen long weeks must elapse first, " came the next thought. 

"But what are thirteen weeks?" said the worn-looking objectscheeringly. "Nothing! We have seen years pass by, and thirteen weeksare but so many moments, flying already. "

Then at last they reached their station, and their journey was over; butin all the years to come, never, never again would Kitty Trenire passthe long, ugly rows of squalid backs of houses just outside the station, and dull depressing streets, never again would she enter that stationitself, without living through once more and tasting again the misery, the strangeness, the forlornness which filled her heart that afternoon. She might come in the height of happiness, in the company of those sheloved best, with hope and joy before and behind her, but never could thesight of it all, the smells, and the sounds, fail to bring back to Kittymemories of that supremely miserable day, and through any happiness makeher taste again for a moment the forlornness, the black misery whichswamped her as she first stood on that draughty, dingy platform. 

There was a smart tussle with the porter over the getting out of Kitty'sluggage, for Aunt Pike was one of those unfortunate persons who neverfail to come to words with porter or cabman, who, in fact, rub every onethe wrong way to start with by taking for granted that they are tryingto shirk their duties and to cheat her. 

Then came the inevitable tussle with the cabman as to the fare, duringwhich Kitty glanced about her at the people on the platform, picking outwith special interest those boys and girls who looked as though theyalso were going to school, and expending on them a great amount of pitywhich was probably in some cases quite wasted. 

At last came the summons to "get in, " and Kitty got into the musty oldcab beside her aunt, and they were started on the last stage of theirjourney through rain-washed busy streets, where the people were hurryingalong under umbrellas, or in omnibuses and cabs. Now and then a cabladen with luggage would lumber past them on its way to the station, andKitty's mind would follow the people inside it through a whole longchapter of imaginary happenings until something else passed anddistracted her thoughts. 

By-and-by they left the streets, and came to a quiet suburb, where roadafter road, lined on either side with houses exactly like each other, stretched in depressing monotony. To Kitty it looked the very acme ofcorrect, neat, yet hateful propriety, and her thoughts flew backlongingly to the dear old irregular wind-swept street of Gorlay, whichwas to her then the most lovable and lovely spot on the face of theearth. At last, when she was almost tired of speculating on the peoplewho lived in the houses they were passing, and of pitying them for beingcondemned to such a fate, the jolting cab drew up before a corner house, one of the primmest of all the houses in the dullest of all the roadsthey had passed that afternoon, and Kitty saw a shining brass plate onthe rails at the foot of the tiny patch of trim garden, and on the brassplate "Miss Pidsley. "

That was all. And this was the place that was to be her home! It wasquite a small school to which she had been banished--a small private onewhere a few girls "who needed particular attention and training receivedthe individual care they needed, " as Aunt Pike carefully read out fromthe prospectus, dealing poor Kitty thus the last and most crushinginsult. 

If the outside of the house had been unlike home and Gorlay, the insidewas even more so; the extreme neatness, the absolute spotlessness ofeverything, the bareness, the high, square, ugly rooms, each and allweighed on Kitty's spirits with a fresh load of depression. At thethought of being left there for months together with not a face abouther that she knew, or a person who cared for her, she felt positivelysick with misery. She even dreaded the moment when Aunt Pike shoulddepart. But the moment soon came, and with a peck at Kitty's cheek, anda last request that she would make the most of the excellentopportunities for improvement now opening out before her, and a desirethat she would _try_ to be a good girl. Aunt Pike left her, and Kittygazed after her with eyes aching with the tears she would not shed. She pictured her journeying home to Gorlay, saw her driving up throughthe street, drawing up before the old house, the door opening and thelight streaming out, and Betty and Tony--and then the tears came, whether she would or no, and drowned every thought and sight and soundbut that of her own misery. 

No. 127 Laburnum Road was under the joint partnership of two ladies, Miss Pidsley and Miss Hammond. Miss Pidsley was the chief partner, andtook the lead. She interviewed the parents, managed the house, themeals, and almost everything, while Miss Hammond's duties lay moreespecially with the girls, their lessons and games. 

Before ever Kitty went to the school she had decided that she could notlike Miss Pidsley. She declared that she knew exactly what she would belike. She would be cold, and stern, and hateful, or Aunt Pike would nothave taken to her; and when Miss Pidsley came into the room to receivethem, she knew that to some extent she was right. Her new mistresswelcomed them--at least she shook hands with them--and she smiled--atleast she half closed her eyes in a weary fashion, and widened her lips, but there was no heartiness or gladness in it. But while Kitty felt thechilliness of it, she could not help sympathizing with Miss Pidsley. To her it would have been wonderful if any one had been able to smile insuch a house as that. 

Presently tea was brought in, and for nearly half an hour Kitty satholding tea and bread and butter, trying her best to swallow both, butvainly. Miss Hammond did not appear at tea. She had only just arrived, Miss Pidsley explained, and was tired. The other pupils had not yetcome; there were only four of them, and they travelled by later trainsfrom higher up the line. 

After tea, Kitty, who was to have a room to herself that term as therewas no room-mate for her, was shown her little bare bedroom, and thereAunt Pike said her farewells, and left her alone amidst her boxes; andthere she remained crying and crying her heart out, her boxes untouched, everything forgotten but her own overpowering misery. "She could notbear it, " she moaned, "she could not bear it!" She thought of herfather, and Tony, and Betty, and felt sure her heart must break. 

"Poor child! We all have to bear it, dear, once in our lives, and someof us many times, " said a soft voice very quietly, while a soft hand waslaid on her bowed head. 

Kitty was so startled that she forgot her disfigured face and looked up;and when she had once looked, and her eyes met the kind eyes gazing intohers, she did not mind, for they were misty too with sympathy. 

"You remind me so of the day that I first went away to school, Katherine. You are Katherine, aren't you?"

"Yes, " murmured the owner of the name; "but they always call me Kitty athome, all but Aunt Pike. "

"May I call you Kitty?"

"Please do, " said Kitty eagerly. 

"Well, dear, I want you to unpack your things now, and try to make yourroom less bare and unhomelike. It will look so different when you haveyour own pretty things about it, and will seem more your own. "

"I don't want it to, " said Kitty miserably. "It isn't home, and itnever could be; in fact, I don't want it to. "

"Oh, come now, Kitty dear, don't talk like that; call up your courage, and make the best of things. It is only for a time, only for a littletime, " said wily Miss Hammond; "but however short it is, it is alwaysbetter to try and make it a pleasant time to look back upon. Think ofthat, Kitty; always when you are hesitating and feel tempted to bedisagreeable, or to make things disagreeable, think of the future, andwhat the present will be like to look back upon. "

Kitty was impressed. She looked up with a brighter, more interestedface. 

"Have you a mother and father?"

"Mother is dead, " said Kitty softly. 

"Poor child, " said Miss Hammond, laying her cool fingers against Kitty'shot cheek. "For your father's sake then, dear, try to be as brave andcheerful as you can. It is sad enough for him, I am sore, to have thisparting, but to know that you are grieving and unhappy will double hissadness. Besides which, " she went on thoughtfully, "you know he ispaying a good deal of money for your education here, and for his sakeyou should try to get all the good you can from what he is doing foryou. Doesn't the thought of working hard for his sake comfort you?"

"Oh yes, " sighed Kitty eagerly, clutching at any kind of comfort, atanything she could do for those she loved. "Oh yes, it will. I--Ihadn't thought of that; but I feel now as if I must work and work--"then she broke off, embarrassed, and actually laughed at herself. 

"There, I knew you had plenty of spirit, " cried Miss Hammonddelightedly. "Now I am going to unpack some of my boxes, and then theyare going to bring me some tea to my room. Will you come and join me, dear? I am sure you can manage another tea. "

"Oh yes, thank you, " smiled Kitty, "I am sure I can. I would love tocome. "

Left alone, Kitty began at once to unpack and arrange her belongings. She felt a little choky as she took out and looked at the photographsand the various little parting gifts that had been given her, particularly when she came across a piece of spar that Tony, withoutsaying a word to any one, must have wrapped up and tucked in amongst herthings as a pleasant surprise for her. It was a very pretty bit that hehad himself found, and was immensely proud of. Kitty's eyes filled asshe held the little cold stone and kissed it. Then she hung up acalendar that Betty had given her, one of her own manufacture. "I shallsoon be able to mark off one day, " she thought with some relief. 

Her room grew to look so different and so nice that she became quiteinterested, and rather a long time had elapsed before she tidied herselfand went out in search of Miss Hammond's room. It was not difficult tofind, for it was on the same landing as her own, and had Miss Hammond'sname painted on the door. 

"Come in, " said a voice in answer to her knock. "Come in. I was justabout to begin without you. Sit down here, dear, in this low chair bythe table. We will have a 'plate tea' and a drawing-room tea combined;"and Kitty dropped gladly into a pretty low chair beside the tea-table, which was drawn up to the fire, and Miss Hammond drew up her chair tothe other side. 

"Oh, what a grand thing tea is! I love it, " she exclaimed with a sighof pleasure. It was said so girlishly and impulsively that Kittylaughed as she agreed. 

"Pamela Peters has come, " said Miss Hammond a moment later, "and I haveasked her to tea too. "

Kitty felt just a little feeling of disappointment. She did not want tomeet any more strangers then; she was tired and shy, and she knew thather eyes were still swelled. She wanted, too, to have Miss Hammond toherself--she was so sympathetic and understanding, and so bright andinteresting. Kitty had never before met any one like her, and wascharmed. 

"I will not say I want you two to be friends, or that I think you willlike each other, for I know that that is the surest way to make youdetermine you never could, would, or should be. But I do think you willlike Pamela, and I thought it would be nice for you to get to know oneof your future companions a little before meeting them all together. "

Kitty could not but agree. One stranger now, with Miss Hammond to breakthe ice, was infinitely preferable to four by-and-by, when she would bealone. And then came a knock at the door, and Pamela Peters walked in. 

Pamela was a taller and altogether larger girl than Kitty. She lookedrather older too. Perhaps a certain air of self-possession gave onethat impression. Kitty gazed at her first with interest and then withwonder, for she looked as smiling and happy as though she had justreached home for the holidays, instead of returning to school for theterm. She had to check her surprise while Miss Hammond introduced themand made room for Pamela at the table, but it soon returned again withdouble force. 

"I am very glad to see you, " said Pamela heartily, turning to Kittyagain. "Isn't it jolly to be back?"

"Jolly!--what!--isn't it what?" stammered Kitty, at a loss to understandher. 

Miss Hammond laughed. "Kitty Trenire thinks it anything but jolly; herheart is miles away from here; but I hope that in time she will findsomething here to care for too. " And even Kitty actually felt that intime perhaps she might. In that cosy little room, and with those twonew friends, it did not seem so absolutely impossible; but when Kitty'sthoughts flew to Miss Pidsley, the bare, unhomelike room downstairs, andthe dreary road outside, her mind began to waver, and she felt anythingbut hopeful. 

"I _am_ so glad to be back, " sighed Pamela, with genuine pleasure. She was not exaggerating in the least--even Kitty could see that. "But, " she added, "if you have a nice home and people to leave, it mustbe awfully hard. I expect it is what I feel at the end of term when Ihave to leave here. "

"Oh, it is much worse than that; it must be, " gasped Kitty, herastonishment overcoming her shyness. "But you are laughing. You reallylove going home, of course?"

"No, I don't. I am miserable. You see, I have no real home, only aguardian, an old man, who doesn't want me any more than I want to go, and is just as anxious as I am for the holidays to be over. He is old, and an invalid too, poor old man, and he never will have any one to stayin the house, or allow me to; so it is dull, and one doesn't feel veryoverjoyed at going home to it. I can assure you I find it much moreexciting to come back to school. I suppose you have brothers andsisters and a real home?" looking across at Kitty with wistful eyes. 

"Oh yes!" said Kitty, and then she fell to talking of them; and MissHammond and Pamela listened with such interest and laughter to heraccount of their escapades and adventures, that Kitty talked on and on, until at last they were interrupted by a cab drawing up before thehouse, and Miss Hammond had to go to welcome the new arrivals. 

"I feel as though I knew Betty and Dan and Tony already, " said Pamela asthey strolled down the corridor to their rooms. "I wish I did. Andyour father must be a perfect dear, I think. "

"He is, " said Kitty warmly, but with a catch in her voice; and from thatmoment she loved Pamela. "I do wish, " she said impulsively, "I do wishyou could come and stay with us, and know them all. There isn't verymuch to see at Gorlay, but there are beautiful places all round it, andwe could have some jolly times. "

"I'd love to come, " said Pamela heartily. "I know I should enjoy myselftremendously, I feel it in my bones. But don't ask me if you don'treally mean it, for I shall come, I tell you plainly. "

Kitty laughed, actually laughed quite gaily, and made up her mind thatit should not be her fault if Pamela did not have at least one happyholiday. 

The next day the girls were allowed to write home to announce their safearrival. Kitty wrote to her father a letter full of eagerness andpromises, and longings for the holidays, which made Dr. Trenire smileand sigh as he laid it away in his pocket-book, and made the house seememptier and less itself even than it had done before. In with herfather's letter Kitty put one for Betty. It was the first that youngperson had ever received, and it so filled her with a sense ofimportance that Anna and Tony said she was almost unbearable all therest of the day. How many times she read it over no one could havecounted, but at every opportune and inopportune moment it was drawn outof her pocket, until at last it grew quite frayed at the edges, and, though scarcely a word it contained was confided to the others, Bettyread it again and again with compressed lips and frowning brows, and anair of seriousness that nearly drove them frantic. 

There was not much in it either to give rise to all this. 

"Dearest Betty, " wrote Kitty, "I have so much I want to say that I don'tknow what to say first. I am very lonely, but one day and night areover, and one of the girls is very nice, I think. She is called PamelaPeters, and I want to bring her home with me for the holidays, becauseshe has no father or mother, or home, or anything but a guardian, a verycross old man, and I want her to see what jolly times we have. I thinkI shall like another girl too, called Hope Carey. She is quite little, about your age, and is very unhappy. Her mother was very ill when sheleft home, and she is always thinking about her and fretting. I thinkit was very cruel to send her back until her mother was better. I dofeel so sorry for her. 

"One of the first things I did was to take off my gray stockings and putthem all away. I shall give them to one of the maids. It is lovely tobe without the hateful things. I wonder what you are all doing at thisvery minute, and if you are thinking of me. I am always thinking of youall the time, and saying, 'Another minute gone, another hour gone, ' butit only seems to make the time pass more slowly. I have a bedroom tomyself, I am glad to say, and it looks very nice with my things aboutit, but of course I don't really care for it at all. I think MissPidsley isn't as nasty as I thought she was when Aunt Pike was with her. I think she is ill, or worried, or something, and not so very cross. Miss Hammond, the other principal, is a dear. I like her very much. We are all going out shopping one day with Miss Hammond. We are allowedto go on one Wednesday afternoon each month. Sometimes she takes thegirls to see something, or to a concert, instead of going shopping. I do not want to buy anything for myself, but I think I shall get someflowers for Miss Hammond, and something for Hope, she is so unhappy, andshe has very little pocket-money. We go for excursions in the summerand have theatricals at Christmas, and you and father will be invited tothose. It is rather nice, isn't it? But of course I don't take anyreal interest in it. I hate being here, but I am going to work hard tomake the time pass. I hope Anna is better. Give Tony my love, and tellhim he was a perfect dear to give me his precious piece of spar. I shall always take it with me wherever I go. I will write to him nexttime. Mind you write and tell me everything, and give my love to Fanny, and Jabez, and Grace, and kiss Prue and Billy for me. Kiss Prue on herdear old cheek and her soft nose. --Your loving sister, "Kitty. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

"GOOD IN EVERYTHING. "

Betty's satisfaction, though, ended with the day. "I am never happy oneday but what I've _got_ to be unhappy the next, " she said plaintively toher father the following evening, when telling him her woes. 

"You might put it another way, " he said, smiling, "and say you are neververy unhappy one day but what you are very happy the next. "

Betty shook her head gravely. "But I am not, " she said. "I can't be_sure_ I am going to be happy, but I can be that I am going to beunhappy, and sometimes it lasts for ever so long. "

"You poor little suffering martyr, " said Dr. Trenire, "what is wrongnow?"

"It's my stockings, " said Betty solemnly. 

"Whatever is wrong with your stockings? Stand still, child, can't you, and tell me. "

"No, " said Betty, "I can't, my legs itch so. I am sure I shall be crazybefore long. I _almost_ wish I'd been sent away to school too, then Icould give them away, as Kitty has. "

"Given away what?--her legs? What made Kitty do it, and what is wrongwith the stockings? Are they new, that they have only just begun toirritate you?"

"No, they aren't new, but--well, you see, I've only just been foundout. "

"What _do_ you mean?"

"Well, you see, Aunt Pike would make us wear these ugly, woolly, itchythings, and "--Betty's voice waxed indignant--"she wouldn't believe uswhen we said we couldn't, and so--well, I thought of it first--we woreour black cotton ones under these, and then we didn't feel them. "

"I see, " said Dr. Trenire, a smile beginning to twinkle in his eyes. "And you were not found out?"

"Not till to-day, " with a triumphant air; "but to-day there was a holein the gray ones, and I didn't know it; but Aunt Pike saw the blackshowing through, and she screamed out, 'Elizabeth, _what_ has happenedto your leg?' And oh! I did jump so; and then I looked, and there wasa great black spot, and everybody was looking and laughing. It was--oh, it was dretful, and Aunt Pike was _so_ angry, she made me go home andtake off the black ones; and now she has taken all my cotton ones away, and--and I've _got_ to wear these, and it's--it's _awful_, it really is, daddy, " and poor Betty's eyes grew pink with tears. 

"I know, " said her father sympathetically. "I suffer in the same waymyself. Don't cry, child; it will be all right. I will explain to youraunt. "

But Betty had borne much that day, and the tears, at least a few, had tocome. "She said if Tony can bear it, I can; but Tony doesn't mind, hedoesn't feel it; he says, though, he would never have said he didn't ifhe had known it would make it harder for me and Kitty. "

"Loyal Tony!" laughed Dr. Trenire. "I like his spirit. Well, don'tfret about it any more; you shall have some others. I think, though, that we will have some other colour; they aren't very pretty, are they?"

"Pretty!" cried Betty; "they are _'trocious_. No one else would haveworn them. I'll take them off now; shall I, father?"

"Hadn't you better wait till you have some others to put on?"

"Oh no, thank you. Fanny wouldn't take long getting me some. If youwill give her some money, she won't be more than a few minutes. I'll wrap my feet up in two shawls for the time. "

"I see there is to be no time wasted, " said Dr. Trenire. "You are abusiness-like young person, Betty. "

"Yes, " said Betty, with satisfaction. "You see, I can't do anythinguntil I have them; and if they are going to be bought, they may as wellbe bought quickly. "

"Your logic is admirable; but, dear, why didn't you speak to me about itbefore? It would have been much better than pretending to obey youraunt all these weeks, and deceiving her. "

Betty looked ashamed. To have the word "deceive" used about herselfwithout any glossing of it over made her feel very small and mean. 

"We did think of it, father, " she said earnestly; "but Kitty said shedidn't want to seem to be always complaining about Aunt Pike. "

"I see, " said Dr. Trenire quietly, and he gazed for a moment gravelyinto the fire before he left the room. 

Betty never knew what passed between her father and her aunt; but sheheard no more about the gray stockings, and she wrote off delightedly toKitty to tell her all about it. 

Kitty was out when the letter came. It was the day on which the girlswere taken for an afternoon's shopping or sight-seeing. 

"I really must get some presents to take home to them all, " she had saidquite seriously to Pamela in the morning. 

Pamela laughed. "There are eleven more weeks to do it in, " she said. 

But Kitty covered her ears. "Don't, don't, " she cried--"just when Ihave been telling myself that time is flying, and that I haven't manymore chances. "

"Well, you haven't _many_, " laughed Pamela. "Of course we don't goevery week. I think you are wise, though, to get your things while youhave the money, and if you see things later that you like better youmustn't mind. "

"I shall keep my eyes turned away from the shops, " said Kitty. "Now bequiet, Pamela, while I make my list. "

"Mine is ready, " said Pamela, with something between a laugh and a sigh, and she held up a blank sheet. 

"Haven't you any one to get anything for?" said Kitty sympathetically, sorry At once that she had talked so much about herself. "Poor Pamela!"

"Only Miss Hammond, " said Pamela. "We generally give her some flowers--most of us do, at least. Rhoda Collins doesn't; she says it seems sucha waste of money, as flowers fade so soon. I suggested oneday that she should give Miss Hammond a cake instead, as that at anyrate was useful. "

"And did she?"

"No; she said one couldn't get anything very nice for a penny. "

Kitty tittered. "Flowers for Miss Hammond, " she wrote on her list. "What do you give to Miss Pidsley?"

"Miss Pidsley!" Pamela looked surprised at her question. "Oh, nothing. You see, Miss Hammond goes with us, and--and--well, we all like her; butMiss Pidsley--I don't know why, but I think we never thought of givingher anything. I should be afraid to. "

The shopping was really great fun; the girls swarmed about the countersand wandered about the shops, going into raptures over this thing andhesitating about buying that thing, until it really seemed as though allthe purchases never would be made. Yet by degrees they somehow acquireda great many curious possessions. 

Kitty bought a nice pocket-book for her father, a little brooch forBetty, a book for Tony, and a penknife for Anna; but it took so long todecide on these that she left her presents for the servants to getanother day, for she still had to buy her flowers for Miss Hammond, andteatime was fast approaching. The flower-shop was perhaps the mostfascinating of all; the cut flowers, the ferns, and the plants in thepots were perfectly bewildering in their beauty. Kitty was in raptures, and almost wished she had bought flowers to take home to them all, instead of the things she had got. 

"Father would simply love that fern, " she cried, "and Betty would gowild over that little white basket with the ferns and hyacinths in it. O Pamela, I do so want it for her! I want them all!"

Pamela had not lost her head as Kitty had. "Well, the hyacinths willhave faded long before you go home, Kitty, and the brooch is easier topack. "

Kitty laughed somewhat shamefacedly. Her eye was already caught by alovely little flowering rose-bush in a pot. "I must buy that, " she saidwith determination, "and I am going to. "

"For Miss Hammond? Oh, how nice! Stupid me had never thought of aplant for her. I always get cut flowers for her room. "

"It isn't for Miss Hammond, " said Kitty rather shyly; "I have boughtviolets for her. I think I will take the rose back to Miss Pidsley. "

"Miss Pidsley! You funny girl, Kitty. "

"Well, at any rate I will offer it to her, and if she doesn't like it--she can't hurt me; and it does seem rather hard that she should miss allthis, and not have anything taken back to her either. She seems to haveall the dull, disagreeable things to do, and none of the nice ones. "

"I had never thought of that, " said Pamela. "I suppose she chose whatshould be her work, and what should be Miss Hammond's. "

"Then she must be a good sort to have given all the nicest things toothers to do, and have kept all the dull ones for herself, " said Kitty, with the frankness with which schoolgirls discuss their elders inprivate. 

"Come along, girls, " called Miss Hammond, returning to the shop. "I have ordered tea, and it will be ready in five minutes. "

By this time it was getting dark, and it was very pleasant to turn fromthe cold, windy streets into the snug, brightly-lighted room where teawas laid for them at a couple of tables placed in the window. The blinds were up, and they could watch the people and the busy life inthe streets, or could turn their eyes inwards and look at that in theroom, where every table was occupied. They were all very hungry andpleased and excited. The food was good and the tea was good, and thegirls could talk and laugh to their hearts' content. 

Then there was the walk home through the busy streets again, where theshops were all brilliantly lighted now, making everything look very gayand cheerful. Kitty felt the exhilaration of it tingling in her bloodas she stepped along through the strange scenes which, in her eyes, wereso exciting and gay and full of interest. 

When they reached home and the others all flew off to their rooms, Kittystood for a moment hesitating; then, with a little added flush on hercheeks, she walked along the hall to Miss Pidsley's private room andknocked. There was a moment's silence, then "Come in, " said MissPidsley in a voice that was not exactly encouraging, for it was that ofa person who had reached the limits of her patience. 

Kitty almost wished she had not come. She seemed to be doing such adreadful thing by interrupting, and suddenly her pretty rose looked verypoor and insignificant; but there was no drawing back now, so she openedthe door and went in. Miss Pidsley looked up very sharply. 

"Oh, surely, Katherine, " she began, when she saw who it was, "it is nottime for your music lesson yet?" Then she noticed that Kitty had on herhat, and had evidently only just come in. 

"Oh no, Miss Pidsley, " said Kitty, "there is an our yet before that. I hope I haven't interrupted you. I brought you home a littlerose-tree, which I hope--I--I thought you might like it, " and she putthe beautiful, cheery-looking little crimson rambler down on the tablebeside her. 

Miss Pidsley looked completely surprised, but quite pleased. "How kindof you, Katherine--how very kind of you to think of me, " she said, andKatherine noticed that her voice sounded strangely. Then her headdropped on her hand, and she gave a deep, deep sigh. "Oh, " sheexclaimed, and the words seemed to be forced from her, "I am _so_worried, and oh! so tired, so tired. " Then she looked up again withalmost an embarrassed air. "I am afraid I spoke sharply when youknocked. I feared it might be Jane again, and after the scene I havehad with her I really do not want to see her for some time yet. She hasquarrelled with the house-maid, and both have given me notice; and whatto do I don't know, just at the beginning of term and all. " MissPidsley talked on as though she really could not keep her troubles toherself any longer. "It has been a most trying scene; they upset medreadfully, they were so violent. "

Had any one else in the house heard the usually reserved headmistresstalking so unreservedly they would have gasped with astonishment. ButKitty was too full of sympathetic interest to think of anything else. She had a little unconscious way of her own of winning confidence fromthe most unlikely of people, and poor Miss Pidsley, who was so weary, sooverburthened with worries, so perplexed and altogether out of heart, could not refrain from pouring her troubles out to her; for, first ofall, her sympathy, and, secondly, her little gift of the rose hadcarried her straight into Miss Pidsley's lonely, aching heart. 

There was Miss Hammond, of course, for her to confide in, and MissHammond would have been told some of the worries by-and-by, but deepdown in Miss Pidsley's heart lurked a little pain, a little trouble thatMiss Hammond's advice could never lessen. Miss Hammond was attractive, charming, genial, and every one liked her; the girls all adored her. Miss Pidsley was not attractive, and she had not a genial manner, andshe told herself that nobody cared for her, and that the girls fearedand disliked her. And, unfortunately, this feeling, which hurt hercruelly, made her withdraw herself more and more from all but what onemight call the business part of the life, and so gave the girls a realreason for feeling towards her as they did. 

Fortunately Kitty had not known Miss Pidsley long enough to realize howvery unlike herself she was now, so she was not at all embarrassed, butonly intensely full of a desire to help. 

"Miss Pidsley, " she said, after a moment's pause, "if you would let me, I will write to father and ask him if he knows of any girls that woulddo for you. He often does hear of servants wanting places--nice onestoo. You see, he knows so many poor people. "

Miss Pidsley looked up surprised. She had never thought of Kitty as apossible helper in her dilemma. "It is very kind of you, Katharine, tothink of it, " she said warmly. "I should indeed be most grateful toyour father if he could help me. He would know that the girls wererespectable and nice. But I really do not like to trouble him, he issuch a busy man. "

"Oh, father wouldn't think it a trouble. I will write to-night, " saidKitty, delighted at the prospect of being able to help. "I wish you hadbeen with us this afternoon, Miss Pidsley; you would have enjoyed itso. We had a lovely time. "

"I wish I had, " said Miss Pidsley. "At any rate I should have had sometea, which is more than I got at home. "

"No tea!" Kitty was shocked. No wonder she found her mistress tired andoverdone. "Shall I tell them to get you some now?" she asked, movingtowards the door. 

"Oh no!" cried Miss Pidsley, alarmed. "I would not ask for anythingwhile matters are in such a state in the kitchen. " Then she laughed withsome embarrassment at her confession of fear. 

"I will go and take off my things now, " said Kitty, and she left ratherabruptly and ran quickly to her room. 

The throwing off of her hat and coat occupied less than a minute; then, taking out from a tin box a spirit-lamp and kettle, she filled thelatter and put it on to boil. That done, she ran softly down the stairsto the pantry. Fortunately for her, Nellie, the schoolroom maid, wasthere alone. Nellie, who was an easy-going, good-tempered girl, hadbeen the pleased recipient of the discarded gray stockings, and had eversince showed a gratitude which was beyond Kitty's comprehension, for inher opinion it was she who had most cause to be grateful. To NellieKitty explained her wants, and after a brief, whispered consultation shewas soon speeding back with a little jug of milk, some tea in a smallteapot, and a plate of biscuits on a tray. In her room she had a prettyteacup of her own, which she meant to use. 

The kettle was singing by the time she got back, and a few moments latershe made her way proudly down to Miss Pidsley's room with a fragrantscent of tea marking her path. This time, when she knocked, MissPidsley really did think she had come for her music lesson, and a littlesigh again escaped her, a sigh which turned to an exclamation of realpleasure when she saw what Kitty was bringing her. Cornish Kitty hadforgotten all about sugar or a teaspoon, but Miss Pidsley needed her teaso badly she did not heed the omission, but sat down at once to enjoy tothe full her little picnic meal. 

When Kitty returned to her own room again she was surprised at herselffor feeling so happy. "School isn't _all_ bad, " she said thoughtfully. "I dare say I should get quite to like it in time. "

Then her eye fell on Betty's newly-arrived letter, and tearing it open, she read of all her woes and triumphs connected with the detestedwoollen stockings. There was a long letter from Dan too, full of a sortof laughing sympathy as well as jokes and fun, but with here and therethe strain of seriousness which so often astonished Dan's friends, andmade him the dear, lovable old boy he was. 

"It was rough on you, " he wrote, "to pack you off to school like that, and jolly unfair too; and I expect you felt you would never smile again. But you will, and before many weeks are gone by, too; and I do believeit is the best thing for both of us. We didn't make any friends athome; there was no one we cared for, and we are such a funny, reservedcrew--at least that's what they say here about me, and I believe I wasthe best of us--in that way, I mean. It won't be so very long before weshall be going home, and, my word, it is worth while going away just tohave the going home again. So cheer up, old girl; it isn't every onethat can boast of a brother like me. Hurry up and write, just to showyou appreciate your blessings. "

"There _are_ some things to make up for being away, " thought Kitty, andshe wrote Dan a long, bright, hopeful letter, and another to Betty. 

A week or so later she wrote to her father to broach her desire to bringhome Pamela with her. She thought it wise to mention it early, as itwould take some time to reconcile Aunt Pike to the thought. For morethan a week she had no reply and no letter from any one, and she wasjust beginning to worry very much about it when a letter came from herfather. 

"I shall be delighted to welcome your young friend, " he wrote, "and I amvery glad you have one you want to bring home with you. But I can onlyconsent conditionally, for poor unfortunate Anna is down with measles, and is very unwell, poor child. I have not spoken to your aunt yetabout your plan, for she is too worried about Anna, and some othermatters, to bear any more agitation. If Betty and Tony do not developmeasles, and I am taking every precaution to prevent its spreading, thehouse will be free of infection and safe for you all to come to; butshould they develop it--well, it does no good to climb our hills beforewe reach them, and we will not anticipate any such blow. When Anna isfree from infection and able to travel, her mother will take her to thesea for a thorough bracing up. I am sure you will understand how thingsare at present, and make the best of them if they should not turn out asyou wish. "

Poor Kitty! She saw at once that what her father tried not toanticipate was the possibility of her not being able to come home at allfor the holidays, nor Dan either; and how could one help climbing such ahill before one came to it, or at least standing at its foot and gazinganxiously up its rough, stony sides?

"I do think Anna was born to aggravate, " she said crossly, but a fewmoments later her anger against her cooled. "It must be horrid for hertoo, " she added, "for she never seems to get any fun out of anything, not even out of being ill. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THREATENING CLOUDS. 

But Betty and Tony behaved extremely well. They escaped the measles, and all risk of infection was over long before the end of term came--andeven a first term at school must come to an end some time. 

Kitty at last had but seven more slips to tear off and seven more datesto strike through, and for sheer pleasure she left them untouched. Time did not need helping along now. 

Then came the last day, when the boxes stood packed and strapped andlabelled, and a general air of holidays and freedom from rules pervadedthe whole house. Rhoda and Cicely Collins were leaving very early. Rhoda wanted to go by the earliest train because the fares were slightlylower. Rhoda was of a saving disposition. It always gave her thegreatest pleasure to be able to economize in any way, and her stores oftwine and paper, old corks, scraps of writing-paper, old pens, and otherthings, afforded food for endless jokes amongst the rest of the girls. Cicely, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of her sister; butbeing the younger, and less masterful, she gave in to Rhoda, and on theday they were to go home she rose, at Rhoda's command, from her bed atsix o'clock, very unwillingly though, for the saving of threepence onher journey was nothing to Cicely in comparison to the discomfort ofrising early. 

Hope Carey had gone home some weeks before, having fretted herself illwith anxiety about her mother. Kitty and Pamela were to wait until theeleven o'clock train, for Dan, who broke up on the same day, could jointhem then at their station, and they could all travel down together. It was not nearly eleven when they reached the station; but how couldthey stay quietly in the dull, deserted house waiting for the hours togo by? Miss Hammond saw that it was too much to expect of them, so tookthem down very early; for a railway station, with its bustle and life, is a capital place for making time pass. 

"It all seems too lovely to be real, " sighed Kitty happily. "To begoing home, to be meeting Dan, to be travelling by ourselves, and tohave no lessons for more than three weeks! It seems too much happinessall at once, and I am afraid I shall wake up presently and find it adream, as I so often have. I understand now what Dan meant by saying itwas almost worth going away to have the going home. I do think, though, " with sudden alarm, "that Dan must have missed his train. I am sure it must be nearly afternoon. "

"It is five minutes past eleven, " laughed Miss Hammond, "and there ishis train now coming in, and there--if I don't mistake--is Dan. "

But Kitty had seen him first, and was flying down the platform to meethim. Dan, recognizing the flying figure, stood and warded her off withthe umbrella and bag he had in his hands. "Now, if you kiss me here, "he cried, "I shall call for help, I really shall; it is taking a meanadvantage, and I am not going to stand it. I wouldn't mind if you wereby yourself, but the others would be imitating you!"

Kitty laughed. "I forgot you were still a little boy, " she saidteasingly. "I know little boys do mind. When they are real men theydon't. Come along, Dan, and speak to Miss Hammond and Pamela, " and Danfollowed quite sedately to make his best bow to Kitty's friends. 

"You must be very thankful the holidays are come, " he said solemnly toMiss Hammond. "I know, of course, how wearing Kitty is. "

"I expect some of your masters feel they have cause for gratitude to-daytoo, " laughed Miss Hammond. "Now we must hurry if we want to find niceseats. I see your train is in. "

Pamela and Dan looked at each other and smiled somewhat embarrassedly;but Dan, who had been rather annoyed at first by Kitty's asking to bringhome a friend with her, let his heart melt a little towards her, for hesomehow felt that things were not going to be as bad as he had feared;and when they had found an empty compartment, and seemed likely to haveit to themselves all the way, he graciously thawed still more, and hisspirits rose to their usual height. 

Alas, though, for plans. The train was on the point of starting, thewhistle had gone, and the guard was just about to signal to theengine-driver, when there was a shout and a rush, and with a "Here youare, ma'am!" a porter laid hold of the handle of their door, flung itopen, almost pushed two ladies in, threw in some bags and parcels afterthem, and banged the door to again. Off started the engine with a jerkwhich threw the ladies on to the seat opposite Kitty, who, with dismayedface and sinking spirits, had already recognized them as Lady Kitson andLettice. 

"She will be with us all the time, and everything is spoilt, " shegroaned inwardly. She was intensely disappointed. "Strangers would nothave been so bad, or any one but those particular two. "

Pamela was sitting in the corner opposite her, and Dan was in the cornerat the other end of her seat. Lady Kitson and Lettice were at first toocross and too much shaken to notice any one; but presently, havingrecovered and arranged their packages, and settled down in their seats, they glanced about the compartment, and, with a look of not very pleasedsurprise, recognized their companions. 

"Oh, how do you do, Dan?" said Lady Kitson, and smiled quite affably onhim, but to Kitty she vouchsafed only the merest acknowledgment. 

Lettice blushed hotly when she saw Kitty, and gave her one of her broad, meaning smiles. 

"How do you do?" said Kitty very stiffly, and with no shadow of a smile. 

"How is your poor little cousin, Dan?" said Lady Kitson presently. "I hope she is growing strong again after her two serious illnesses?"

"Yes, thank you, " said Dan. "She has gone away for change of air. "

"Oh, indeed. I am glad she is able to. It was so alarming her being soill. Oh, I heard about your shocking behaviour in leaving her behind towalk home by herself, on _such_ a night too, and in such a wild spot. "

"I am afraid you haven't heard the right story, Lady Kitson, " said Dangravely, but with a flash of his eye. 

Lady Kitson smiled a most aggravating little smile. "Oh, I think so, "she said meaningly. Then, "You are not all going away with Anna, Ihope, " she remarked severely. "I am sure the poor child must requireperfect peace and great care. "

"No, Aunt Pike has gone with her. We are going home, and Kitty's friendis coming to stay with us, " and Dan looked towards Pamela. "May Iintroduce Miss Pamela Peters--Lady Kitson, Miss Kitson, " said Dan veryformally, and growing very red. 

Pamela smiled and bowed very prettily to Lady Kitson. Lady Kitsonstared at Pamela, but gave her only the vaguest of acknowledgments. Lettice nodded as though her neck were loose at the joint. 

"You don't mean to say that while Mrs. Pike is away your poor father isgoing to have you all on his hands, and a stranger as well? Poor Dr. Trenire. I really think it is too much for him, he looks so ill andworn already. He really needs a holiday more than do any of you. "

"Father looks ill!" gasped Kitty. It was the first hint she had had ofany such thing, and a sudden cold fear filled her heart. She forgot herdislike of Lady Kitson and Lettice, and the wrong they had done her. "Is father really ill, Lady Kitson?" she asked anxiously, leaningtowards her. "He has never mentioned it to me, nor has Aunt Pike. "

"He is too good and unselfish to complain, " said Lady Kitson coldly. "You should use your own eyes, and not wait for him to _tell_ you he isill. He has not actually told _me_ that he is, but I can see that helooks overworked and unwell, and certainly not fit to battle with ahouseful of noisy, restless boys and girls. "

"Of course we shouldn't be noisy if father was not well, " said Kitty, with quiet dignity. She was feeling intensely uncomfortable on Pamela'saccount as well as her father's. Lady Kitson's remarks were not politeto their guest. 

Lady Kitson sat back in her seat and unfolded a paper, as though tointimate that she had no more to say. Lettice crossed over and satbeside Kitty, evidently intending to talk to her, but Kitty could notbring herself to be friendly to her late school-fellow; besides which, she had Pamela to talk to, and there was this news about her father tofill her mind. 

"He can't be very ill, " said Pamela comfortingly, seeing Kitty's quietdistress. "Your aunt or Betty would have said something to you aboutit. While I am with you I can take the children out all day long if youlike, so that you can keep the house quiet, and we won't be any trouble. But of course you must send me home if it is not convenient for me tostay. "

"But it will be, " cried Kitty, trying to throw off her fears, and shecrossed over and sat by Pamela. 

When, though, they presently stopped at Gorlay Station, all her troublesvanished, for the time at any rate, for there on the platform stood herfather, and Betty, and Tony, all apparently as well and jolly as couldbe, while old Prue and the carriage waited in the road outside. 

"Father is here! Father is here to meet us and drive us home!" shecried joyfully, and, forgetting Pamela and Lady Kitson, and all the rugsand bags and everything, she was out on the platform and in his armsalmost before the train had come to a stand-still. 

Dan waited, and with well-feigned if not real patience helped out LadyKitson and her possessions; then he too flew. "Come along!" he shoutedto Pamela, forgetting his shyness. Pamela, though, with a wistfullittle smile on her lips, collected their belongings without much haste, and followed him, but very slowly. 

For a moment she felt herself almost an intruder, but it was only for amoment; for Dr. Trenire, looking over the heads of Dan and Kitty, sawher, and guessing who she was, went at once and met her with such acordial greeting that she felt herself one of them from that moment; andKitty, remorseful for her forgetfulness, brought up Betty and Tony to beintroduced. Then Pamela was made to sit up in the carriage beside thedoctor, with Kitty and Tony on the back seat, while Dan and Bettymounted to the top of the omnibus, and off they started in the gayest ofspirits. Prue, who could never endure to let any other horse pass her, insisted on racing the 'bus the whole way home, to the amusement ofevery one. Betty and Tony shrieked with delight, Kitty sat beaming witha happiness so great as to seem almost unreal, while Pamela sat quietlytaking it all in, and revelling in it, yet with a touch of sadness asshe realized for the first time in her life how very much she hadmissed. 

"Oh, isn't it like old times, " sighed Kitty happily, "to be togetheragain, and by ourselves. Father, are you frightened by the thought ofus all?"

Dr. Trenire laughed. "Not really frightened, " he said. "You see, I canalways send for your aunt. She assured me she would return at once if Ifound you all unmanageable. "

"Oh, " said Kitty gravely, "then we will promise not to be _quite_unmanageable, but just bad enough. "

At that moment Lady Kitson's carriage overtook them, and her ladyshiplooked out and smiled and bowed to the doctor as she passed. "Don't youlet them wear you out, doctor, " she cried. 

Kitty, with sudden recollection, leaned forward and studied her father'sface earnestly--as much, at least, as she could see of it. "Father, "she said anxiously, "Lady Kitson told us that you were not at all well. Aren't you?"

She had unconsciously expected, or at least hoped for, a prompt andstrong reassurance; but her father did not answer for a moment, and thenbut half-heartedly. "I haven't been quite up to the mark, " he saidquietly, "but, " looking round and seeing the anxiety on her face, "it isnothing to worry about, dear. I would have told you if it had been. I am rather overworked and tired, that is all. It has been a very heavywinter of illness and anxiety. I shall be better now the spring hascome, and I have you all home to liven me up. We must try and givePamela a happy time, and you must take her to all your pet haunts. "

But Dr. Trenire was not as well as he led them to believe; and thoughKitty was not observant enough to notice such signs as a slower, heavierstep, a want of energy in setting about his work, a flagging appetite, she did notice that he was quieter and graver, and had not such spiritsas of old. 

Pamela became at once a favourite with every one. Even Jabez unbent, and was not always suspecting her of some mischief or other. 

"What part of the county do 'ee come from, miss?" he asked when first hewas introduced. 

"I am afraid I don't belong to this county at all, " saidPamela apologetically. "I am not a Cornishwoman. "

Jabez looked disappointed, but he tried his best not to make her feelher sad position more than she could help. "Well now, that's a pity;but there, we can't always help ourselves, can we, miss? and 'tisn't forwe to make 'ee feel it more'n you do a'ready. We've all on us gotsomething to put up with. Whereabouts up along do 'ee come from, miss, if 'tisn't a rude question?"

"Devon, " said Pamela, smiling at the old man. "It might be ever so muchworse, mightn't it? Do give me some comfort, Jabez, "

"Well, yess, miss, " he answered, willing to cheer her if he could. "And maybe 'twas only an accident. Your parents 'd gone there to live, or something of that sort. Accidents will happen to the mostdeserving. "

"Yes, " sighed Pamela, "I feel it was a mistake, for directly I came hereI felt at home, and I had never done so before. "

"You'll be sorry to go back, miss. "

"Sorry!" cried Pamela. "I can't bear to think of it. I never was sohappy in my life, and never enjoyed my holidays before. "

It was a very simple holiday too, but each day was full of happiness. One by one the four introduced Pamela to their best-beloved haunts. They made excursions to Wenmere Woods, to Helbarrow Tors, to the moorsand the river. Very frequently, too, some of them went for drives withDr. Trenire far out into the country, over wild moorland, or throughbeautiful valleys, and Pamela loved these drives as much as anything, and felt she could listen for hours while the doctor told her the storyof some old cairn, or the legend of a holy well or wayside cross. 

Once they all went to Newquay to visit Aunt Pike and Anna, and spent along, glorious day on the beautiful sands, paddling in and out of therock pools in search of rare sea-weeds, and anemones, and shells. 

"I didn't know your aunt was so old, " said Pamela later, when she andKitty were talking over the events of the day. "You did not tell me shewas. "

"No, " said Kitty thoughtfully, "I didn't think she was. I noticed itto-day myself, but I never did before. She does look quite old, doesn'tshe?" appealing to Pamela, as though still doubting her own eyes. "I don't think she looked so last term. She seemed quite altered to-daysomehow, so small and shrivelled, or something. "

But other interests soon drove the matter from Kitty's mind, and shethought no more about it until Mrs. Pike and Anna returned to Gorlay afew days before the end of the holidays to see to Dan's and Kitty'soutfits, and by that time Kitty was far too miserable at the prospect ofreturning to school to give more than a passing thought to her aunt'schanged appearance. 

Anna was quite strong again, though her old nervous, restless manner hadnot left her, and she still had the same difficulty in meeting one'seyes fairly and squarely. 

"Your cousin looks as though she had something on her mind, " saidPamela. "Do you think she has?"

"I don't know, " said Kitty; "at least I don't think it would trouble hermuch if she had. She didn't really enjoy herself at Newquay. She saysshe is very glad to be home again, and I should think she would be too, "added poor homesick Kitty. "I am sure I should get well here quickerthan anywhere, " and Pamela agreed. 

"I think it was nonsense of Dan to say it was worth while to go away tohave the pleasure of coming home, " she moaned when the last day came. "I am sure _nothing_ could make up to me for the misery of going, and Ithink it is worse the second time than the first. "

Poor Kitty's woe was so great that at last her father was driven toexpostulate. "Kitty dear, do try to be brave, " he pleaded. "I am notvery well, and I cannot bear to see you so unhappy. You make it veryhard for others, dear, by taking your trials so hardly. "

Kitty looked and felt very much ashamed. "I hadn't thought of that, "she said; "but, father, it is really very hard to bear. You don't knowhow miserable I feel. "

"How will you bear greater troubles when they come, as they are sureto?"

"There couldn't be greater ones, " said foolish Kitty. 

"My dear, my dear, don't say such things. This is, after all, but ashort temporary parting, when we could all come together if needs be. There are some that last a lifetime, " he added sadly, and Kitty knew hewas thinking of her dead mother. A few moments later he spoke morecheerfully. "I am going up with you to-morrow, " he said. "Perhaps thatwill comfort you a little. "

Kitty looked delighted, but Dr. Trenire did not tell her that when hehad left her at her school he was going to consult a doctor about hisown health; for he intended to let no one know that he was bound on suchan errand until he had heard the verdict, and only then if it wasabsolutely necessary. 

However, the consultation proved that it was absolutely necessary, and afew days later the following letter reached Kitty:--

"My Dearest Kitty, --I have to send you some news which is not good, butyou must not think it very bad. A few days ago I was told by a medicalman that I must take a long holiday and a sea voyage as soon aspossible, and he dared me to stay away less than three months. I amobeying him because I want to feel stronger than I have lately, and I donot believe in asking a clever man's advice and then refusing to actupon it. So I am getting a _locum tenens_ here for a time, and as soonas I have introduced him to my patients I shall start on a cruisesomewhere. I have not yet decided where. But before I go I shallcertainly come and spend a day with you, my dear, to talk things over. I will write to Miss Pidsley and arrange it all. Your aunt will lookafter Betty and Tony very carefully, as you know, while I am away, andthey have promised me to be happy and good, so that I may not be worriedabout them. They are a good little pair, on the whole, and I feel quitesatisfied about Tony at any rate. 

"You must promise not to fret or worry about my health or my absence. The doctor told me to keep as free from anxieties as possible, so, ifyou want to help me--and I know you will--you must be as happy and do aswell at school as you possibly can--that will help me more thananything--and write to me letters full of smiles. I know you know howto, and I shall count on hearing frequently. In about three months'time I hope we may all be journeying home together to keep our summerholidays. I shall be back in time, I promise you, and will arrange sothat I can meet you and Dan. 

"I shall be writing again in a day or two. --

"Your affectionate Father. "

When first she opened this letter and mastered its contents, Kittyturned cold and faint with the shock it brought her. At once herimagination pictured her father ill, dying, or going away from them alland dying at sea. 

"He's more ill than he will say, I know, " she moaned. "Father nevertells the worst. O father! Father! and I am not even at home to be withhim. If I could see him I should know; but here I am in prison, and--and I can't know what is happening at home!" and Kitty collapsed on herbed, sobbing pitifully. 

"Katherine! Katherine! what is the matter, child?" Miss Pidsley, hearing sounds of grief, opened the door and looked in, then she walkedin and closed it behind her. 

"I have had such dreadful news, " moaned Kitty. "Father is very ill--I know he is worse than he says--and I am not there, and--and I am herea prisoner. Read what he says, Miss Pidsley. "

Miss Pidsley laid her strong hand on Kitty's trembling arm. "Dear, youmust know that if your father wanted you, or thought it necessary thatyou should be home, that he would send for you, and you could go atonce, so do not feel yourself a prisoner. " Then she read the letterslowly and carefully through. 

"Isn't it dreadful?" sighed Kitty, looking up at her as she laid theletter down. 

"It is a trouble for you certainly, dear, " said Miss Pidsley. "But Ithink you have every reason to hope that your father may soon be welland strong again, and in the meantime I see he has given you plenty todo for him. Don't let him know that you are not able or willing to dowhat he asks you to. "

"What has he asked me to do?" cried Kitty, starting up eager to beginthen and there. 

Miss Pidsley held out the letter, and pointed out one particularparagraph. "If you want to help me--and I know you will--you must be ashappy and do as well at school as you possibly can. That will help memore than anything. "

"But that can't really help him, and--and it is so difficult. " Kittylooked up into Miss Pidsley's face very dolefully. 

"But it does help, dear, more than you can imagine. Nothing would worryyour father more than to feel you were unhappy. Do try, for his sake. You can't refuse his request, can you?"

"No, " said Kitty mournfully, "I can't. I--I will try, but--it is veryhard to begin at once, isn't it? One is frightened and unhappy beforeone knows one is going to be, and then it is so hard to forget it againand try to feel brave and happy, and all that sort of thing; and oh, itdoes seem so dreadful that father should be ill, and have to go awayfrom us. I can hardly believe it. "

"You must try not to think of it in that way, dear, but think that hehas been ill for some time without being able to do anything to makehimself well again, and that now he is about to be cured, and if he hasrest and change and an easy mind every day will see him a littlestronger and happier. He has worked hard and long, and often, probably, when he has been feeling quite unfit; but now he is going to have a realrest, and to enjoy himself. It is good to think of, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, " cried Kitty, much more cheerfully, "and I hope he will get offsoon, for I know he will get no rest while he is in Gorlay. I havenever known father have a holiday. "

"Then let us all try to make it a really happy one now, " said MissPidsley, and she went away leaving Kitty much comforted. 

Three days later Dr. Trenire came up to say "good-bye, " and at the endof a long, pleasant day together, happy in spite of the parting beforethem, Kitty bade him "good-bye" with a brave and smiling face, and senthim back to Gorlay cheered and comforted, and with at least one careless on his mind; for in his heart he had been dreading that day, because of Kitty's grief at parting. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

BETTY'S ESCAPADE. 

June had come, a brilliantly fine June, and overpoweringly hot. Wind-swept, treeless Gorlay lay shadeless and panting under the blazingsun, and the dwellers there determined that they preferred the cuttingwinds and driving rains to which they were better accustomed. 

Dr. Trenire had gone, and Betty and Tony had been inconsolable. The "locum, " Dr. Yearsley, had come, and Jabez had long since announcedthat he had no great opinion of him, coming as he did from one of thenorthern counties. 

"I don't say but what he may be a nice enough gentleman, " he said;"but coming from so far up along it stands to reason he can't knownothing of we or our ailments. I s'pose the master had his reasons forchoosing him, but it do seem a pity. "

Aunt Pike did not approve of the newcomer, but for another reason. "He was so foolish about the children, " she complained. "It is verynice to say you are fond of them, but it is perfectly absurd to make somuch of them; it only encourages them to be forward and opinionated, andputs them out of their place. " And to balance all this Aunt Pikeherself became a little more strict than usual, and very cross. It mayhave been that she felt the heat very trying, and perhaps was not verywell, but there was no doubt that she was very irritable and particularat that time--more so than she used to be--and nothing that the childrendid was, in her eyes, right. 

Anna was irritable too, but there was much excuse for her, for havinghad pneumonia in the winter, and measles in the spring, her mother wasdetermined that she should not have bronchitis, or rheumatism, orpneumonia again in the summer, and through that overpoweringly hotweather poor Anna was condemned to go about clothed in a fashion whichmight have been agreeable in the Highlands in January, but in Gorlay inthe summer was really overwhelming, and kept poor Anna constantly in astate bordering on heat apoplexy, or exhaustion and collapse. 

Had Dr. Trenire been at home he would have interfered, and rescued herfrom her wraps and shawls, heavy serge frock, woollen stockings, andinnumerable warm garments; or, perhaps, if Anna had not been so afraidof her mother, but had appealed to her candidly and without fear, shemight have obtained relief. This, unfortunately, was not Anna's way, for Anna's ways were still as crooked and shifty as her glances. Shewould think out this plan and that plan to avoid the only one that wasstraightforward and right, though it must be said for her that she didtry to be more open and honourable--at times she tried quite hard; butsince Kitty had gone, and she had been so much with her mother, all herold foolish fears of her had come back with renewed strength, and allher old mean ways and crooked plans for getting her own way and escapingscoldings. 

Now, instead of asking to be relieved from some of her burdensomeclothing, she made up her mind to destroy the things she detested most, and trust to not being found out; or, if she was found out--well, "the things must have been lost at the laundry. " This seemed to her anexcellent explanation. 

So, one day when her mother was out and Betty and Tony had gone for adrive with Dr. Yearsley, Anna betook herself to the garden with some ofher most loathed garments under her arm, and a box of matches in herpocket. A bonfire on a summer's day is easy to ignite, and there wasjust sufficient breeze to fan the flame to active life, so Anna was inthe midst of her work of destruction almost before she realized it. But, while waiting for her mother to depart, Anna had forgotten that thetime was hurrying on towards Betty's and Tony's return. In fact, theydrove up but a moment or so after she had left the house on her guiltybusiness. 

"Miss Anna has gone up the garden, " said Fanny in answer to Betty'sinquiries; and Betty, following her slowly, was in time to see a blazeleaping up, and a cloud of smoke and sparks. She quickened her steps, for something interesting seemed to be happening. "Surely Anna isn'ttrying to smoke out that wasps' nest, " she thought in sudden alarm. "She will be stung to death if she is, " and Betty took to her heels totry to stop her. But when she got past the rows of peas and beans thathad hidden Anna, she saw that what her cousin was poking up was not awasps' nest, but a heap that was blazing on the ground. 

"What are you doing?" gasped Betty excitedly. "What a lovely fire!"

At the sound of a voice Anna spun round quickly, the very picture offrightened guilt; but when she saw Betty her fear turned to anger, hotand uncontrollable because she was frightened. 

"You are always spying and prying after me, " she cried passionately. "Why can I never have a moment to myself? Other people can, and whycan't I?"

Poor Anna was hot and overdone, and her nerves were so much on edge thatshe scarcely knew what she was doing or saying. But Betty had noknowledge of nerves, and under this unfair accusation she could make noallowance for her cousin, and her temper rose too. 

"How dare you say I pry and spy! You know it is not true, Anna. I onlycame to ask you to play with us, and--and how was I to know that youwere doing something that you didn't want any one to see? Why don't youwant any one to see you? What are you burning?" Betty stepped nearerand looked more closely. "O Anna, it is your clothes that you areburning. Oh, how did it happen? You didn't do it on purpose, did you?"

"It doesn't matter to you how it happened. If _you_ don't want to wearthings you hate, you just go and tell tales to your father. You can geteverything you want. But I haven't any one to stick up for me, and I've_got_ to do things for myself. "

"Then you set this on fire on purpose! Oh, how wicked; and they costsuch a lot too! I wonder you aren't afraid to be so wicked!" criedBetty indignantly. 

"I don't care, " said Anna, trying to put on a bold front. "I never didwant the things, and I never shall. I should die if I went about muchlonger a perfect mountain of clothes. How would you like to wear a'hug-me-tight' under a serge coat in this weather?"

"Not at all. But what shall you say to Aunt Pike?"

"I shan't say anything; but I suppose you will, " sneered Anna. "I do wish you wouldn't be always poking and prying about where you arenot wanted. You might know that people like to be left alonesometimes. "

"I am sure, " cried Betty, quite losing her temper at that, "I wouldleave you quite alone always, if I could; and I am _not_ a sneak, andthat you know. It would have been better for Kitty if I had been. I don't know how you can say such things as you do, Anna, when you knowwhat we have had to bear for you. I suppose you think I don't know thatit was you who should have been sent away from Miss Richards's, and notKitty! But I do know--I have known it all the time, though Kittywouldn't tell me--and I think that you and Lettice Kitson are the twomeanest, wickedest girls in all the world to let Kitty bear the blameall this time and never clear her. But after this--"

"Betty!" Aunt Pike's voice rose almost to a scream to get above thetorrent of Betty's indignation. "How _dare_ you speak to Anna so!How _dare_ you say such shocking things! You dreadful, naughty child, you are in such a passion you don't know what you are saying, and youare making Anna quite ill! Look at her, poor child!--Anna dear, come tome; you look almost fainting, and I really don't wonder. "

Anna was certainly ghastly white, and trembling uncontrollably, but asmuch at the sight of her mother as from Betty's fiery onslaught. "Yes--I do feel faint, " she gasped, but she was able to walk quickly toher mother's side, and to lead her at a brisk step away from thatsmouldering heap on the ground. 

"Poor child, I will take you to your room. You must lie down and keepvery quiet for a time. --Elizabeth, follow us, please, and wait for me inthe dining-room. I will come and speak to you there when I have seen toAnna. In the meantime try to calm yourself, and prepare to apologizefor the dreadful things I heard you saying. "

Betty did not reply, nor for a few moments did she attempt to follow. Her aunt's determination to believe Anna all that was good and innocentand injured, and herself and Kitty all that was mean and bad, increasedher resentment a thousand times. Betty could never endure injustice. 

"I won't apologize. I won't. I can't. I couldn't. I have nothing toapologize for, " she thought indignantly. "It is Aunt Pike who ought todo that, and Anna, and ask us to forgive them. I've a good mind to telleverything. I think it is my duty to Kitty and all of us!" and Bettystrutted down the garden looking very determined and important. Her childlike face was undaunted, her little mouth set firm. 

"It is my duty to all of us, " she kept repeating to herself; "it reallyis. I am not going to let Kitty bear the blame always. I know thatmost people feel quite sure that she really did carry those letters, andthen wouldn't own up, but told stories about it, and Aunt Pike has neverbeen nice to her since, and Lady Kitson scarcely speaks to her, and MissRichards doesn't speak at all, and--and that mean Anna won't clear her, and--"

"Well, Elizabeth, I have come to hear your explanations and apologiesfor your shocking attack on Anna. "

"It was Anna who attacked me, " said Betty. "It was only when she calledme a pry and a spy that I--that I--"

"Hurled all sorts of wicked accusations at her. Oh, I heard you. You said the most shocking and untrue things in your passion. "

"I didn't say a word that wasn't true, " said Betty firmly, "and--andAnna knows it. Anna could have cleared Kitty, but she wouldn't, and Iam not going to let Kitty bear the blame for her and Lettice any longer;and if they won't clear her, I will. Anna called me a sneak, and I saidshe was mean and bad, and I meant it; and so she is, to let Kitty go onbearing the blame and the disgrace all her life because she is toohonourable to tell how mean they are. "

"Did you say that Anna knew who went to Lettice with that letter thatnight, and that--it wasn't Kafcherine?" asked Aunt Pike, but so quietlyand strangely that Betty was really quite frightened by her curiousvoice and manner. 

"Oh, I wish I had not told, " was the thought that rushed through hermind, while her cheeks grew hot with nervousness. But it was too latenow to draw back; she must stick to her guns. "Yes, " she said, but withevident reluctance. "Ask Anna, please. I--I mustn't say any more. Father wouldn't like--"

"Was it--Anna--herself?" asked Mrs. Pike, still in that strange lowvoice, only it sounded stranger and farther away this time. 

"Oh, I can't tell you! I can't tell you!" cried Betty, shrinking nowfrom telling the dreadful truth. 

"There--is--no--need to, " gasped Aunt Pike; but she spoke so low thatBetty hardly heard the words, and the next moment the poor, shocked, stricken mother had slipped from her chair to the ground unconscious. 

Betty saw her fall, and flew from the room screaming for help. Help wasnot long in coming. Dr. Yearsley ran from the study and the servantsfrom the kitchen, and very soon they had raised her and laid her on thecouch. But none of the restoratives they applied were of any avail, andpresently they carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed. 

But before that had happened, Betty, terrified almost out of her sensesby the result of her indiscretion, had flown--flown out of the room andout of the house. 

"Oh, what have I done! what have I done!" she moaned. "Father didn'twant her to know, and Kitty didn't want her to, and now I have told herand it has killed her. I am sure I have killed her. And father isaway, and Kitty--oh, what can I do? I can never go home any more. P'r'aps if I'm lost they'll be sorry and will forgive me, " and Betty ranon, nearly frantic with fear, and weeping at the pathetic picture of herown disappearance. 

The next morning Kitty, on her way from the music-room, where she hadbeen practising before breakfast, saw the morning's letters lying on thehall table, and amongst them one directed to herself in Betty's hand. Without waiting to have it given to her in the usual way, she picked itup, and, little dreaming of the news it held, opened it at once. 

"Dear Kitty, " she read, "I have run away for ever, and I am never goinghome any more. I think I have killed Aunt Pike. I told her something, and she fell right down on the floor. She was dead, I am sure, and Iran away. I am too frightened to go home, so do not ask me to. I amgoing to earn my living. I am hiding at the farm. Mrs. Hendersonthinks I am going home soon, but I am not; and if she won't let me sleephere, I shall sleep in the woods. To-morrow I shall try to get a placeas a servant or something. I wish I looked older, and that I had one ofyour long skirts. I can put my hair up, but my dress is so short. Good-bye for ever. --

"Your loving Betty. "

"S. P. --Give my love to father if he will except it from me, and tell himI did not mean to be a bad child to him. "

Kitty stood staring blankly at the letter, scarcely able to grasp itsmeaning. It seemed too wild, too improbable to be true. Betty had runaway; was frightened, desperate, too frightened to go home; had been outall night alone; and they were all far away from her, all but Tony. Kitty felt stunned by the unexpectedness and greatness of the trouble, but she realized that she must act, and act quickly. 

Miss Pidsley and Miss Hammond were gone to an early service at thechurch, but it never occurred to Kitty to wait for them and consultthem. She only realized that a train left for Gorlay in twenty minutes'time, and that if she could catch it she could be at home in little morethan two hours, and on the spot to seek for Betty. She cleared thestairs two at a time, and in less than three minutes was flying downthem again and out of the house, buttoning her coat as she went, and hadvanished round the corner and down the road. She felt absolutely nofear of meeting her teachers, for it never entered her head that she wasdoing anything wrong. Miss Pidsley had once said that if she was wantedat home she could go, and Kitty had never, since then, felt herself aprisoner at school. She did hope that she might not meet them, or anyone else she knew, for time was very precious, and explanations wouldcause delay; but that they might forbid her to go never once entered herhead. Her mind was full of but one thought--Betty was lost, and no onebut herself had any clue as to her whereabouts. 

But the only person that Kitty met was a telegraph boy. Miss Pidsleyand Miss Hammond, coming home by another route, met the telegraph boytoo at the gate, and took the telegram from him. 

"Oh, " exclaimed Miss Pidsley as she opened it and mastered its contents, "dear, dear! This brings bad news for Katherine Trenire. Listen, " andshe read aloud, "Mrs. Pike seriously ill. Send Miss Trenire at once. Yearsley. "

"Shall I break it to the poor child?" asked Miss Hammond anxiously. 

"Please. "

Miss Hammond hurried into the house and to the schoolroom, but Kitty wasnot there. Then she went to the music-room, but there was no Kittythere; then by degrees they searched the whole house and garden, but invain, and at last stood gazing at each other, perplexed and alarmed. Kitty, with never a thought of all the trouble she was causing, hadcaught her train and was speeding home, little dreaming, though, of allthat lay before her, for in her alarm for Betty she had quite failed tograsp the other and more serious news that Betty had written; and, asthe long minutes dragged by, and the train seemed but to crawl, it wasonly for Betty that her anxiety increased, is her mind had time to dwellon what had happened, and picture all the dreadful things that mighthave occurred to her. 

"It was a wet night, and it was a very dark one, and such strange soundsfill a wood at night, and--oh, I hope she kept away from the river!If anything chased her, and she ran, and in the darkness fell in--O Betty, Betty!"

Then "Gorlay at last!" she cried in intense relief as she recognized thewell-known landmarks. Long before the train could possibly draw up, shegot up and stood by the door with the handle in her hand, a sense ofstrangeness, of unreality, growing upon her. She felt as though shewere some one else, some one older and more experienced, who wasaccustomed to moving amidst tragedies and the serious events of life. Even the old familiar platform, the white palings, the 'bus and thedrowsy horses that she knew so well, seemed to her to have changed too, and to wear quite a different aspect. 

"I feel like a person just waking out of a dream, not knowing whether itis dream or reality, " she thought to herself as she opened the door andstepped out on to the platform. "I suppose I am not dreaming?"

But as she stood there for a moment trying to collect herself, Weller, the 'busman, came up to her, and he was real enough, and his anxiousface was no dream-face. 

"Good-morning, missie, " he said sympathetically. "I'm sorry enough, I'msure, to see you come home on such an errant. 'Tis wisht, sure enough. "

Kitty was startled. She thought he was referring to Betty, and wonderedhow he could know of her escapade. "You knew she was gone?" she askedanxiously. 

The man looked shocked. "Gone! Is she, poor lady? Law now, miss, youdon't say so! I hadn't heard it. She was just conscious when I calledfore this morning to inquire, and they 'ad 'opes that she'd rally. "

"Then they have found her; but--but is she ill? Did she get hurt?--theriver!--O Weller, do tell me quickly. I came home on purpose to go tolook for her. Is she very ill?" Poor Kitty was nearly exhausted withanxiety and the shocks she had received. 

Weller looked puzzled. "Why, " he said slowly, "I never heard nothingabout any river. She was took ill and fell down in the room, missie. Haven't you heard? They told me they was going to tellygraff for you sosoon as the office was open, 'cause your poor aunt said your name onceor twice--almost the only words they've been able to make out since shewas took ill; and with the master away and you the eldest, they thoughtyou ought to be sent for. "

Then the rest of Betty's letter came back to her mind, and as theimportance of it was borne in on her, Kitty's heart sank indeed in theface of such a double trouble. 

"Oh, if only father were home!" was her first thought. "But even if wesend at once he can't be here for ever so long. " A moment later, though, she remembered his health, and how bad such news would be forhim, with all those miles between, too; and she felt that unless it wasabsolutely necessary, they must spare him this trouble. 

Rowe, the driver, came forward to help her to her seat. "I think you'dbest go outside, missie, " he said gently, "you'm looking so white. P'r'aps the air'll do 'ee good. I'm afraid you've had a bad shock. "

"I--I think I have, " gasped Kitty, as, very grateful for his sympathy, she mounted obediently. 

Then Weller, who had suddenly disappeared, came back carrying a cup ofsteaming tea and a plate of bread and butter. "Drink this, missie, andeat a bit, " he said, clambering carefully up with his precious burden, "then you'll feel better. You look as if you hadn't tasted nothing buttrouble lately, " he added sympathetically, as he arranged the tray onthe seat beside her, and hurried down again to escape any thanks. 

Tears of gratitude were in Kitty's eyes as she ate and drank; and fromsheer desire to show how much she appreciated his kindness, she finishedall he had brought her, knowing that that would gratify him more thanany thanks could. 

She certainly felt better for the food, and more fit to face the longdrive home; and never to her life's end did she forget that drive onthat sunny June morning--the dazzling white dusty road stretching beforethem, the hedges powdered with dust, the scent of the dog-roses andmeadow-sweet blossoming so bravely and sending up their fragrance, inspite of their dusty covering, to cheer the passers-by. Then, when atlast they reached the town, familiar faces looked up and recognized her, and most of them greeted her sympathetically. 

It was all so natural, so unchanged; yet to Kitty, seeing it for thefirst time with eyes dazed with trouble, it seemed as though she hadnever seen it before--at least, not as it looked to her now. She triedto realize that it was only she who had changed, that all the rest wasjust as it had always been. She felt suddenly very much older, thatlife was a more serious and important thing than it had been--so seriousand important that it struck her as strange that any one could smile orseem gay. 

With kind thoughtfulness Rowe did not stop at all on his way as usual, but drove the 'bus straight up to the house at once. As they drew near, Kitty, glancing up to speak to him, saw him look anxiously up over thefront of the house. "It's all right, " he murmured to himself; thenaloud he said more cheerfully, "I'm hoping, missie, you may find yourpoor aunt better, " and Kitty knew that he had feared lest they mightfind the blinds drawn down. 

CHAPTER XX. 

KITTY'S HANDS ARE FULL. 

As soon as the 'bus had drawn up, the door of the house was flung openand Fanny tore out. "Oh, my dear!" she cried, almost lifting her littlemistress down bodily in her plump arms. "Oh, my dear Miss Kitty, I'mthat glad to see 'ee! They said as the tellygram couldn't reach 'ee intime to catch that train, but I knew better. I knew if you got thatthere message you'd come by that early train, even if it _had_ started. "

"What telegram?" asked Kitty. "I haven't had one. "

"Why, to tell 'ee to come 'ome 'cause Mrs. Pike is so ill. And if ithaven't reached 'ee, why the postmaster-general ought to be written to'bout it. But, " breaking off with sudden recollection, "you'm come;and if you didn't get that tellygram, whatever made 'ee to? You didn'thave no token, did 'ee?"

"I had Betty's letter, " said Kitty, trying to sort things out in hermind. "That was all I had, and that brought me. I expect I had leftbefore the telegram reached. I remember now I passed a boy on my way tothe station. But what about Betty? Have you heard anything? Has shecome back? Have you sent in search of her? Weller told me about poorAunt Pike--oh, Isn't it dreadful, Fanny! Two such awful things tohappen in one day! But he didn't know anything about Betty, and Ididn't tell him. She hasn't been found, I suppose? I must go. I thinkI may be able to find her if I start at once--but there is Aunt Pike. What must I do first?" despairingly. "I _must_ find Betty. She has noone else to look after her, while Aunt Pike has you. "

"If you wants Miss Betty, you'll find her in her bedroom, " said Fanny, looking somewhat cross and puzzled. "I don't know, I'm sure, why you'remaking such a to-do about seeing her, when there's so much else to thinkon. Miss Betty's all right, and so is--Why, Miss Kitty, what's thematter? You ain't feeling bad, are you?" cried Fanny in great alarm, for poor Kitty had dropped, white and limp, and tremblinguncontrollably, into a chair in the hall. 

"Oh no--no. I'm all right. Only--I'm so--so glad. I have been sofrightened about her; but I am _so_ glad--so--I came to--to try to findher. No one knew I had come, and all the way I was thinking of her outall night in the dark and rain; and then the good news came, and it--made me feel--feel--" Kitty's head fell forward again, and the worldseemed to rock and sway, and recede farther and farther from her, when avoice said, "Leave her to me, " and some one lifted her up and laid heron a couch, and then something was held to her lips and her nose, andpresently Kitty began to feel that the rest of the world was not sovery, very far off after all, and then she sighed and opened her eyes, and saw a strange face looking down at her. It was rather a tired, anxious face, but it smiled very kindly at Kitty. 

"Better now?" asked Dr. Yearsley. 

"Yes, thank you, " whispered Kitty. "How funny!"

"I am glad you can see any fun in it, " said the doctor with the ghost ofa smile. "It is the only funny thing that has happened in this unluckyhouse for the last day or two. But it isn't the sort of humour Iappreciate. "

"I am so sorry, " said Kitty, trying to rise, "only I have never faintedbefore, and it seemed so odd that I should. It is a horrid feeling. "

"Yes, not the sort of thing you want to repeat. But perhaps it willcheer Jabez. We have had two catastrophes, and he has got it into hishead that there has got to be a third. Perhaps this will count as thethird, and the spell be broken. Now lie still, and rest for a littlewhile and have some food. You are exhausted, and I want strong reliablehelpers, not any more patients, " with a smile that robbed his words ofany harshness. "You and I have our hands full. "

Kitty smiled up at him bravely. "I am ready to do anything I am wantedto. How is Aunt Pike?" anxiously. "May I see her? Is she very ill?"

Dr. Yearsley looked grave. "I will answer your questions backwards. Yes, to be quite frank with you, as the head of your family for thepresent, she is seriously ill. She has had a stroke of paralysis, andat first I thought I must send to your father; but I was very unwillingto worry him, and I waited a little to see how things went. I amthankful to say she has rallied a little, and if she goes on improving, even though it is but slightly, I am hoping he may be spared the badnews until we can send him better news with it. I don't want to worryhim if I can help it. "

"Oh no, " said Kitty earnestly, "and he would worry dreadfully at beingso far away. " She felt very kindly towards the doctor for histhoughtfulness for her father. 

"You shall see your aunt later. She has asked for you many times, butwe hardly knew whether she was conscious or not when she spoke. She must be kept very quiet though, and free from all anxiety. I havegot in a nurse for her. Don't be frightened. You see there was no onehere with the time or knowledge to give her the attention she required, and it was a very serious matter. I sent for you because, if she reallywants to see you, and it would relieve her mind in any way to do so, itis important that you should be here, and the children needed some oneto--"

"Oh, " cried Kitty, remorseful that she should have forgotten her allthis time, "Anna! What a state she must be in about her mother. How isAnna?"

"Yes, poor Anna, " echoed Dr. Yearsley with a sigh, "she is in a verydistressed state. I wish you could calm her, and get her to pullherself together a little. "

"I will try, " said Kitty gravely. "And there is Betty. I am longing tosee her. "

"I doubt Miss Betty's complete joy at seeing you, " smiled the doctor. "I think there may be some embarrassment mingled with her pleasure. Her return was--well, _she_ might think it ignominious. Luckily no onein the house but myself knows that she had really run away. I amafraid, though, that she has something on her mind that is troublingher--something in connection with Mrs. Pike's illness. "

Kitty recalled Betty's letter, and her heart sank. She became so white, and looked so troubled, that the doctor tried to comfort her. "Whatever she may have said or done, " he explained excusingly, "she didin utter ignorance, of course, of any ill result being likely to follow, and she cannot be blamed entirely for the disaster. Mrs. Pike has beenseriously unwell for some time; in fact, I had ventured to speak to herabout her health, and warned her, but she resented my advice. Believeme, that what has happened would have happened in any case; any littleupset would have brought it about; but Betty may have precipitatedmatters. "

Kitty listened with wide, grave eyes; her heart was heavy and anxious, her mind full of awe and care. How terribly serious life had become allat once; how real and possible every dreadful thing seemed, when so manycame into one's life like this. 

As she left the doctor, walking away with heavy, tired steps, he lookedafter her, half pitying, half admiring. 

"She has had some hard knocks to-day, poor child, " he said to himself, "but she has plenty of sense and plenty of pluck. At any rate I hopeso, for she will need both, I fancy, in the time that lies before her. "

Kitty, making her way slowly up the stairs to Betty's room and her own, was again impressed with that curious sensation of being some one else, of seeing everything for the first time. How strangely things cameabout, she thought. Here she was, back in her home again, as she had sooften longed to be, but oh how different it was from what she hadpictured--no joy in coming, no one to meet her, a stranger to welcomeher, the house silent and strange. Could it be really she, KittyTrenire, walking alone up the old, wide, familiar staircase as thoughshe had never gone away or known that brief spell of school life?Could she really be come back to her own again, as mistress of herfather's house? It seemed so--for a time, at any rate. Kitty felt veryserious, and full of awe at the thought, and as she slowly mounted thedear old stairs a little very eager, if unspoken, prayer went up fromher heavy heart. 

Then she reached the door of her room and Betty's, and knocked. 

"Who is there?" demanded Betty's voice. "Me. Kitty. "

"Kitty What, Kitty! Oh--h--h!" There was a rush across the room, thena pause. "I--I don't think you had better come in, " gasped Betty. "You'll never want to see me again if you do. "

"Don't be silly. Why, Betty, whatever has happened?" cried Kitty, asshe opened the door and stepped into an almost perfectly dark room. "Are you ill?"

"No, " miserably, "I wish I was, then p'r'aps you'd be sorry; and if Iwas to die you might forgive me, but you can't unless I do die. "

"O Betty, what _have_ you done?" cried Kitty, growing quite alarmed. 

"Is she--is she dead?" asked Betty in an awful whisper. 

"Who? Poor Aunt Pike? No; Dr. Yearsley told me she is just ever soslightly better. "

"Oh!" gasped Betty, a world of relief in her sigh, "I _am_ so glad. Then I ain't a--a murderess--at least not yet. I've been afraid to ask, and nobody came to tell me, and I--O Kitty, it was I made her tumbledown like that in a fit or something, and I was _so_ frightened. I will never tell any one anything any more. "

"You will tell me what it was that you told Aunt Pike that upset herso?"

"I don't think I can, " said Betty. "You will hate me so, and so willfather--that is why I wanted to hide for ever from all of you; but, "with sudden indignation, "that silly old 'Rover' brought me back. Oh, it was dreadful!"

"What was?" asked Kitty patiently. She knew Betty's roundabout way oftelling a story, and waited. "What did you tell Aunt Pike? Do tell me, Betty dear. I ought to know before I see her. "

Betty dropped on to the window-seat and covered her face with her hands. "Don't look at me; I don't want to see you look mad with me. It wasAunt Pike's fault first of all. If she hadn't said nasty--oh, horridthings about you, I shouldn't have told her what I did, but--but shemade me, Kitty; I couldn't help it, and--and I told her right out thatAnna could have cleared you long ago, and that she and Lettice were meanand dishonourable to let you bear the blame for them all this time. And when she spoke after that, her voice sounded so--oh, so dreadful, asif she was talking in her sleep, or was far away, or drowning, and shelooked--oh, her face frightened me, and then she said, 'Did--Anna--know?' all slow and gaspy like that, as if she hadn't any breath, and Isaid 'Yes'--I _had_ to say 'yes' then, hadn't I? Of course I didn'tknow it would make her ill, but she fell right down, all of a heap, andoh, I nearly died of fright, and I ran and ran all the way to WenmereWoods, and I meant never to come back again--never! And it was all Mrs. Henderson's fault that I did come--at least Mrs. Henderson's andBumble's, and, " drawing herself up with great dignity, "I am never goingto speak to either of them again. When I had had my tea--she gave mecream and jam, but not any ham--and when I had played about for a littlewhile, she told me she thought I had better be going home, as I wasalone; and at last I had to tell her I was never going home any more, and I would be her little servant, if she would take me, only no onemust ever see me, or I should be discovered, but she wasn't a bit niceas she generally is. She said, 'Oh, nonsense; little girls mustn't talklike that. I am going to Gorlay to chapel, and I will take you backwith me. '

"Then I knew it wasn't any good to ask her to help me, and that I mustsleep in the wood with all the wild beasts and things"--Betty's face andher story grew more and more melodramatic--"and as soon as she had goneto put on her bonnet, I ran into the woods for my life. I expect whenshe came down again and didn't see me she thought I had gone home. I don't think anybody went to look for me, and I think it was veryunkind of them, for I might have been eaten up, for all they knew, bywild beasts--"

"Oh no, " said Kitty, rousing for the first time from the shock anddistress Betty's revelations had thrown her into. "There is nothing inthe woods more savage than rabbits and squirrels. "

Betty looked hurt. "Oh yes, there is, " she protested, "or I shouldn'thave gone up and kept close to the railway lines. I saw something, quite large, staring at me with great savage eyes, and if it wasn't awolf, I am sure it was a badger or--or a wild-cat. "

"Did it fly at you?"

"No, but it looked at me as if it wanted to, and I ran until I came tothe railway; and after a long time, when it was nearly dark, I saw somered lights coming and heard a noise, and that was the 'Rover. ' I--Ididn't like the woods at night, so I went up and shouted and signalledto Dumble, and asked him if he knew anybody who wanted a servant, 'causeI'd left home for good, and wanted a 'place. ' I didn't tell him who Iwas, and I thought he wouldn't know me. After he had thought for aminute or two, he said yes, he reckoned he could put me in a good'place, ' if I'd come along of him. So I got up in the carriage--I hadit all to myself--and oh it was lovely going along in the dark andseeing the fire come out of the funnel! But, " growing very serious anddignified again, "I consider Dumble the _most_ dishonourable man I_ever_ met, and I'll _never_ speak to him again--_never_; and I'll_have_ to leave Gorlay 'cause I can't never meet him again, for heackshally took me up in his arms when the 'Rover' stopped at the wharf, and--well, I was rather sleepy and I didn't see where I was going, butof course I _trusted_ him, and when I opened my eyes--why, I was home!Oh, I was _so_ angry I didn't know what to do, and I'm never going tospeak to Dumble again. I hope I never see him. "

The corners of Kitty's mouth twitched, but she did not dare to laugh. "I expect he thought he was doing right, " she said excusingly. "He couldn't have helped you to run away; he would have been sent tojail. And oh, Betty, I am so glad you did come home; there is troubleenough without losing you too. I was so frightened about you all theway down in the train--"

"Did you get my letter?"

"Yes; it was that that brought me. I didn't know anything about AuntPike until I got to Gorlay Station. "

Betty crept over from her window-seat and stood by Kitty as she sat onher little bed. "Kitty, do you hate me for telling that to Aunt Pike?"

"Hate you!" cried Kitty. "As though I ever could, dear. I am sorry shewas told--but--but I know you couldn't help it, Bet. I couldn't havemyself if it had been you, and she had said unkind things about you. "

Then Betty flung her arms about Kitty's neck and began to sob heavily. "I do love you so, Kitty! I do. I really do. I think you are thesplendidest girl in all the world, and--and I'll never do anything tomake you sorry any more, if I can help it. "

Kitty held her little sister very tightly to her, and with Betty's headresting on her breast, and her cheek laid on Betty's curly head, theytalked, but talk too intimate to be repeated. 

At last Kitty got up. "Where's Tony?" she asked. "I have to find eachof you separately, and it seems as if I shall never see all, I want tostay so long with each. Betty, where is Tony? He is all right, isn'the?"

"Oh yes. He went to try and make Anna stop screaming, and I think hehas done it. I haven't heard her for a long time. "

Kitty made her way to Anna's room, and tapped gently at the door. At first there was no reply, then through the keyhole came a whisper. "Who is there? You must be very quiet, please. Anna is asleep. "It was Tony's voice, but by the time Kitty had opened the door he wasback on his chair by Anna's sofa, waving a fan gently, as he had beendoing for so long that his poor little arms and back ached. His facewas very flushed and weary-looking, but his eyes glanced up bright withsatisfaction. 

"She is gone to sleep, she'll be better now;" but at sight of Kitty thefan was dropped and Anna forgotten, and nurse Tony flew across the roomand into his sister's arms. 

"Oh, I'm so glad! oh, I'm so glad!" he said again and again and again. "There wasn't anybody but me and Dr. Yearsley, and I was frightened'cause I didn't know what to do, and everything seemed wrong. I wishdaddy was home; but it won't be so bad now you are here, " and hesnuggled into her arms with a big, big sigh of relief, and put hislittle hot hands up continually to pat her face and convince himselfthat she had not vanished again. And thus they sat, held in eachother's arms and watching the sleeping Anna, until the handle was gentlyturned, and Betty appeared in the door-way. A very pale, weary Bettyshe looked now she was away from her own darkened room. 

"Kitty, Dr. Yearsley is looking for you. I think Aunt Pike is awake andasking for you. " Then, as Kitty hurried past her, "He says she is alittle better, only ever so little; but it is good news, isn't it? Shewill get well, won't she, Kitty? Oh, do say 'yes, '" and Betty, who hadnever before bestowed any love or thought on her aunt, had as much asshe could do to keep her tears back. 

It was a very nervous, trembling Kitty who presently entered the large, dim bedroom where Aunt Pike, so helpless and dependent now, lay verystill and white on her bed. Kitty almost shrank back as she firstcaught sight of her, half fearing the change she should see. But theonly change in the face she had once so dreaded was the expression. 

When Dr. Yearsley bent over her, and said cheerfully, "Here she is; hereis Kitty, " the white lids lifted slowly, and Aunt Pike's eyes looked ather as they had never looked before. Kitty went over very close to her, and kissed her. 

"I am so sorry, " she said sympathetically, "that you are ill, Aunt Pike, but so glad you are a little, just a little bit better. "

Mrs. Pike did not answer her; she seemed to have something on her mindthat she must speak of, and she could grasp nothing else. "I--I havebeen--very--unjust--to you, " she gasped, speaking with the greatestdifficulty. "You--should--have--told me. "

"No, no, " said Kitty eagerly, bending and kissing her again, "you haven't. You didn't know. I meant you never to know. "

"Anna--knew. She--should--"

Kitty bent down, speaking eagerly. "Anna did more for me--for us all. She saved Dan's life--in that fire. "

The poor invalid looked up with a gleam of pleasure in her eyes. "Did she? I am--very glad; but it--it did not excuse--the other. That is--beyond forgiveness. "

"Oh no!" cried Kitty warmly, "nothing is that. It is all forgiven longago, and we will never think of it again. "

Aunt Pike's hand was almost helpless, but Kitty felt it press hers everso slightly, and stooping down she laid her fresh warm cheek against heraunt's cold one. "You must make haste and get well, " she saidaffectionately, "and then we shall all be happy again. "

"It-doesn't matter. No one cares, " gasped the poor invalid, tears ofweakness creeping out from between her lids. 

"Oh, you mustn't say that, " cried Kitty sturdily. "You must get wellfor all our sakes. Anna cares, and I care very much. We all care, morethan we thought we did till we knew you were ill. "

"Anna, " whispered the invalid, "is she--all--right?"

"Yes, Tony has soothed her to sleep, and is sitting by her, and I amgoing to sit by you while you go to sleep. Dr. Yearsley says youmustn't talk any more now, " and Kitty, seated in a chair by her aunt'sbedside, held her helpless hand lovingly until she had fallen into theeasiest sleep she had had yet. By-and-by the nurse came back, and Kittywas free to move. 

"I think I must go and talk to Fanny now, " she thought, and she made herway to the kitchen, thinking very soberly the while. 

"Fanny, " she said, "you and I have to steer this ship between us, andfor the honour of the ship we must do it as well as ever we can. I--I am afraid I am not very much good, but I am going to try hard; andI think we shall be able to manage it between us, don't you?" wistfully. "Of course having strangers in the house makes it more difficult; but wewill do our best, won't we?"

"That we will, Miss Kitty, " said Fanny heartily, "and between us all weought to be able to do things fitty. "

The strangers, Dr. Yearsley and Mrs. Pike's nurse, made housekeeping amore serious matter certainly, and illness complicated things; but AuntPike's reign, though unpleasant in many ways, had made others easier forKitty. The house was in good order, rules had been made and enforced. Fanny and Grace had learned much, and profited a good deal by thetraining, and, best of all, all worked together with a will to makethings go smoothly. 

There was hope and good news to cheer them too. Aunt Pike grew dailybetter; by very, very slow degrees, it is true, but still there weredegrees. Good news came from their traveller too--news of restoredhealth, good spirits, and, presently, a longing to be at home and atwork again. 

And then, so quickly did the busy days fly, they had only a very fewleft to count to the return of the two absent ones, for Dr. Trenire andDan were to meet and travel home together. Then the last day came, andthe last hour, and then--Kitty found herself once more with her father'sarms about her. 

"Why, father, " she cried, standing back and studying carefully hischeerful, sunburnt face, and his look of health and strength, "you aremore like the old father than you have been for ever so long. "

Dr. Trenire burst into a roar of hearty laughter. "Well, " he cried, "after my spending three months in trying to renew my youth, I do thinkyou might have called me a 'young father. ' Never mind, Kitty, I feelyoung, which is more than you do, I expect, dear, with all the cares youhave had on your shoulders lately. I suppose you have left Miss Pidsleyfinally, " with a smile, "and I have to pay her a term's fees fornothing?"

Kitty looked a little ashamed of herself as she smiled ruefully. "Yes. I don't seem able to stay at any school more than one term, do I?I think you had better give up trying, father, and keep me homealtogether now. "

"I think I had, " said her father seriously. "I think I can't try againto get on without you, dear--even, " quizzically, "if there isn't alwaysboiling water when Jabez gets his head knocked. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE LAST. 

Aunt Pike grew slowly and gradually stronger, and in time was able to bedressed, and could sit up in her chair. But she knew, and the doctorsknew, that she would never again be the same strong, active woman thatshe was before. The doctors had hopes that in time she would be able towalk again, and take up some of her old ways and duties; but she herselfwas not so hopeful, and with the prospect before her of a long spell ofinvalidism, she insisted on leaving Dr. Trenire's home for one of herown. 

The doctor and all protested warmly, but Aunt Pike was determined. "Kitty can look after the house now better than she could, " she said, "and I shall be glad of the rest and quiet. I shall not leave Gorlay. I want to be near you all, so that if Kitty wants any advice I shall beat hand to give it. "

So, seeing that her heart was set upon it, and feeling that the quieter, less busy home would be better for her, Dr. Trenire gave in, and theyall set to work to find a house to suit her. But here they found a taskwhich taxed all their time and patience. It had to be a small house, sheltered yet sunny, of a moderate rent, but in a good position; it musthave, as well as a sitting-room, a room on the ground floor that Mrs. Pike could turn into a bedroom, and it must have a garden with nosteps--a rarity in hilly Gorlay. 

There were not very many houses in Gorlay, and very few to let;certainly few with all, or even half, of the advantages Mrs. Pikedemanded; and at last in despair the doctor had to prevail on an oldfriend and patient of his own to move from his house and give it up tothe invalid, which, marvellous to tell, he did, and, even moremarvellous, the house pleased Aunt Pike immensely. The garden was madeto suit her by removing all the steps and replacing them with sloping, winding paths and various other cunning devices; and the doctor saw thateverything that could add to her comfort was done for her. Then camethe great excitement of furnishing the house and stocking the garden. 

But before all this had happened, Anna had provided them with a greatand glad surprise, though at the same time a painful one; for the onlywish of all concerned was that the past should lie buried, and thestupid, regrettable incident that had caused so much sorrow should beforgotten. 

They were all seated at tea one day--the children and Dr. Trenire aroundthe table, and Aunt Pike in her big chair near the window--when suddenlythe door was burst open, and Anna, whose absence had set them allwondering, walked in. 

"I have done it!" she cried excitedly. "I have told them all--LadyKitson and Miss Richards and Miss Matilda--and--and now, " sobbinghysterically with nervous excitement, "I want to go away from Gorlay. I can't stay here. I want to get away from every one until--until theyhave forgotten. I'd like to go to Kitty's school. May I, mother?"

"Told all what?" asked Mrs. Pike eagerly, ignoring all of Anna's outcrybut that. 

"Told them all about that--that evening, and me and Lettice. I wantedto try to forget it, and I couldn't until I had told them all. "

"O Anna, I wish you hadn't, " cried Kitty, greatly distressed lest themention of the old trouble should be too agitating for her aunt. But, to her surprise, Mrs. Pike looked up with such pleasure in her eyesas had not been seen in them for a very long time. 

"Have you really, Anna?" she cried gladly. "Oh, I am so thankful, child. That will do me more good than anything, " and she drew Anna downto her and kissed her very tenderly. "Yes, dear, " with an understandingof Anna's feelings such as she had never shown before, "you shall goaway to school for a time. You shall go to Miss Pidsley's next term, ifyou like. I am sure it is the best plan. "

So Anna went away to school, and Aunt Pike moved into her new home intime to receive her on her return for the Christmas holidays. A nurse-companion was engaged to live with Mrs. Pike and take care ofher; but never a day passed but what Kitty went to sit with her, to tellher the news or ask her advice. The others went frequently too--Tonyregularly, and Dan daily when he was at home. Betty went sometimes, butnot so gladly, for she never quite got over the fright of that dreadfulday, and a terrible lurking dread that she might accidentally shock heraunt again, and once more hear that strange, far-away voice, and see herfalling, falling. But Kitty never failed; and Kitty was, perhaps, thebest beloved of them all by the aunt who had tried, and been so triedby, them. 

"You see, Kitty was the only one who willingly kissed me and called me'dear, '" the poor invalid confessed one day to the doctor as they sattogether in the firelight talking over many things--"the only one sinceMichael died; and cold, reserved folk such as I remember these things. "

"She has a warm heart has my Kitty, " said the doctor softly, "and agenerous one;" then, fearing as usual the effect of any emotion on theinvalid, "She told me that if I came here I was to look about me and seeif she had left her gloves about. She thinks she lost one on the wayhere, but may have dropped the other in the house, as she is almostcertain she had one with her. It doesn't much matter, though; they werevery full of holes, oddly enough, " with a smile. 

Aunt Pike's mouth twitched a little at the corners as she opened herwork-basket and took out two rather shabby gloves. "One was under thetable; some one picked up the other in the garden. They are not holeynow; I have mended them. But I expect Kitty would never find it out ifyou did not tell her. "

"A year or two ago she would not have, " said her father, as he took thegloves and put them in his pocket, "but I think she would now. "

"She has changed, " said Aunt Pike gently. "We all have. "

"Yes, she has changed--in some respects; in others I hope she nevermay. "

"I think you need not fear that, John, " said Aunt Pike sympathetically. Silence fell on them both for a few moments, then Mrs. Pike spoke again. "John, will you be sure to tell Kitty to come here to-morrow, and Danand all of them in fact, to welcome Anna home for the Christmasholidays? I have a surprise in store for them too, but you mustn'tbreathe a word of it. Pamela is coming too, to spend part of herholidays with us. I thought she would do Anna good. Then perhaps youwould like to have her with you for the rest of the time. We mustn'tforget that she was Kitty's friend first. But don't you breathe a wordof this to Kitty. "

"Very well, " said the doctor; then, with a pretended sigh, he added, "I am thankful, though, that my Christmas puddings and things arealready made, for I foresee there will be nothing more done now. You wicked woman, to plot so against my peace and comfort. "

But Aunt Pike did not look repentant, she only chuckled. "Even housekeepers must have a holiday at Christmas, " she said, "and Iam sure yours deserves a good one. "