"Miss Malone has done something which obliges me to put her into Coventry for a week," said the head-mistress. "Her schoolfellows are forbidden to have any intercourse6 with her. If she attempts to speak to any girl belonging to Middleton School, with the exception of Alice Denvers, in whose house she is living, that girl holds communication with her at her own peril7. Such a girl stands a grave chance of being expelled from the school."
Miss Sherrard then descended8 from her platform, and the usual work of the morning went on.
It may easily be guessed that Kitty Malone, and Kitty Malone only, was the subject of conversation during recess9. What had she done? Why was Miss Sherrard so very severe on her? It was not often that a Middleton girl was given such a very terrible punishment. Alice who knew all about it, and Bessie, who knew a little, were therefore in immense request. Girls came up to these two in groups to find out what was the matter; and when they heard from Alice the very glaring account of what Kitty had really done on the previous night, they listened with open mouths, giving vent5 to their feelings in different ways. The larger number pronounced Kitty's conduct to be the height of all that was disgraceful.
"Is it true," said one, "that she really wore the college cap? Oh, what will Dr. Butler say if he finds it out? Alice, you cannot mean that she had bare arms, bare from the elbows? Oh, impossible!"
"But Alice," said another, "tell me, did she really, really, knock one of those horrid10 boys down?"
"Yes; like a ninepin, so Fred says," replied Alice. "Oh, it was disgraceful. Don't talk of it any more; my cheeks burn whenever I think of it."
"But after all, Alice"—said Gwin, who came up at that moment. Gwin's tone sounded quiet, stately, penetrating11; it rose above the din3 which the other girls were making. "After all, Alice, don't you think that you were to blame too? Why did you not let Kitty get into your room and hers? If she wanted to go for a walk it was surely natural enough to ask for her hat and jacket; you refused to give them to her."
"Of course I refused," said Alice, who did not at all wish to share any of poor Kitty's blame. "Kitty knew perfectly12 well that she was breaking one of the school rules as well as one of our home rules by going out at such an hour—it was between nine and ten o'clock. As to her going without her hat and jacket, such an idea never entered my wildest dreams. No; bad as I thought Kitty, I did not think her bad enough for that. There is no excuse for her. She is well punished, and for my part I cannot but rejoice."
"For my part," said Gwin gravely, "I am extremely sorry. I like Kitty; I like her much. She has her faults of course; she is different from any of the rest of us; she is wild and daring and eccentric; but she is also the soul of honesty and candor13. She is very affectionate and very generous. She has not been brought up in the least as we have been. Things we think wrong are not considered wrong by Kitty Malone. As she herself expresses it, she is a little bit wild. Oh, I am sorry for her, dreadfully sorry; and I think Miss Sherrard has been too severe. I wonder at Miss Sherrard. I thought she understood Kitty. She spoke to mother so kindly14 about her yesterday; she said there was a great deal of good in the Irish girl, as she called her; and also said that she was very glad that I was her friend. Although Miss Sherrard does not know any of the rules of the Tug-of-war Society, she naturally knows that we have formed it. She told me that she could not express how pleased she was at our having asked Kitty to become a member. Girls, I wish I could speak to Miss Sherrard. I think I will. It will break Kitty's heart to be kept in Coventry for a week."
"I doubt if she has a heart," said Alice. "It is all very fine to talk of her affectionate ways; for my part I call them nothing but impetuous. She is vain, conceited15, and selfish; and provided she gets her own way does not care what prejudices she rides roughshod over. Oh, I have no patience with her."
"But," said Bessie Challoner, who was standing stolidly16 by, looking very determined17 and very quiet, "what did Kitty want out at that hour? Kitty with all her faults, would not break the rules unless she had a strong motive18. What could have been the matter?"
"And why did she want to see you, Elma?" said Gwin. "Can you throw any light on the subject?"
Elma colored first and then turned pale. Several pairs of eyes were immediately fixed19 on her; one girl looked at the other, and a few nodded significantly. Elma observed the looks and turned away in hot fear.
"I don't know what she wanted with me," she muttered.
The rest of the school hours passed as usual, and just before dinner, when the great school broke up for the day, Kitty was still the subject for conversation. Gwin lingered a little behind the others, and Bessie stopped to ask why she was doing so.
"I have almost made up my mind," she said, "to plead with Miss Sherrard for Kitty."
"Oh Gwin; how noble of you. I respect you, I do from my heart; but I tell you what. Would it not be better for us to do something of this sort? Why should not all the Tug-of-war girls plead for her? That would seem more effective and stronger, would it not? Suppose we wrote a letter, a sort of round-robin, and sent it to Miss Sherrard, begging of her to forgive Kitty this time; and taking upon ourselves the responsibility of her future conduct. Oh, I say, Gwin, could we not do it?"
"It is a splendid thought," said Gwin; "much—much better than my talking to Miss Sherrard alone. Look here, Bessie; could we not manage to have a meeting of the Tug-of-war at my house this evening? Oh, there's Elma; I'll ask her at once. Elma come here."
Elma who was just shouldering her books preparatory to leaving the school, turned when she heard Gwin's voice.
"What is it, Gwin?" she asked; her manner was a little nervous.
Gwin hastily repeated Bessie's daring suggestion.
"Oh, I'll come of course," said Elma; but there was a certain amount of apathy20 in her tone.
"And I will secure Alice; I am getting quite to dislike Alice, though," said Bessie.
Gwin promised to write to the other girls at once, and it was finally arranged that a meeting should be held at Harley Grove22 that evening between four and five o'clock.
Elma walked home alone, musing23 much over the aspect of affairs.
"I wonder what Kitty did want with me," she said to herself. "Doubtless it had something to do with that money. Kitty was in despair, so it seems. Oh, there's Fred Denvers; perhaps he can tell me something? Hullo, Fred!"
Elma stopped; Fred was on his way from college; he was whistling a gay air, and did not see Elma until he had almost reached her side.
"Hullo, Elma," he answered; "how are you?"
"Oh, I am very well, Fred, thank you; but have you heard about Kitty
Malone?"
"How everybody does cry out Kitty Malone; it will soon be sung by the birds in the air," said Fred; "Kitty Malone! Kitty Malone! What's the matter with her now?"
"Oh, she has got into the most awful scrape; of course you know what occurred last night?"
"Rather!" said Fred. "I was with her. I say, Elma, she is about the pluckiest girl I ever met. Didn't she hit out straight from the shoulder; and didn't that fellow go down like a ninepin! I don't believe he is able to see out of his eye to-day. Why, that little hand of hers is as hard as iron. Who taught her the art of boxing like that? She's a born fencer! She's a splendid girl. I never met any one like her."
Elma did not feel so much annoyed at this praise of Kitty as Alice would have been; but all the same it was scarcely gratifying to her. After reflecting for a moment, during which Fred was preparing to continue his swinging pace toward his home, she said suddenly: "But where was she going, Fred?"
Fred's big blue eyes lit up with a sudden light of intelligence.
"What a fool I am!" he said. "You perhaps can throw light on this mystery. She wanted to see you, Elma. I cannot imagine what about. You know how fond she is of her brother Laurie? Well, it seems that Laurie got into some sort of scrape; and Kitty, poor girl, she was in a way about it; fretting24 like any thing, and she said no one could help her but you. Can you tell me what she wanted with you? She was in a rare hurry to get to your house."
"Of course I cannot tell," answered Elma. "Who could be responsible for the vagaries25 of Kitty Malone? I thought I would ask you. I thought perhaps you would know. Of course they are talking about it at school, and they are wondering what I can have to do with it. It is anything but pleasant for me I can tell you."
"Oh, you'll manage well enough; you'll fight your own battles. Well, what have they done with her at the school? You look quite mysterious."
"I forgot I had never mentioned it to you. They have sent her to Coventry; Miss Sherrard has done it. We are none of us to speak to her for a week."
"Whew!" said Fred, rounding his lips for a prolonged whistle. "Well, that won't bother Kitty much; I don't suppose talking to you would be much of a loss to her."
"But you don't understand, Fred. It's the disgrace, and Gwin Harley thinks it will break her heart; and—But I must not tell you any more; I must hurry home."
"Poor Kitty! Anyhow, there's no embargo26 put on my talking to her," said
Fred to himself. "Poor old Kit1, poor old girl; I'll make it up to her if
I can."
Fred ran home as fast as he could, and Elma continued her way.
"There's no doubt of it," she said to herself; "she wants that money. She will manage, Coventry or not, to ask for it. She promised me faithfully that she would never tell that I borrowed it from her; but, being an Irish girl, she is scarcely likely to keep her word. Now that she is in trouble for some unknown cause, she is certain to blab it out. Did she not say herself that she could never keep a secret? Oh dear, what an awful mess I have got into. If it gets to be known that I borrowed eight pounds from Kitty I shall be expelled. If there is a rule that the Middleton governors are strict about, it is that by which the girls are forbidden to borrow money from one another; and eight pounds is such a large, large sum. All my future will be ruined if this is known. I had better give her back all the money that is left, and at once. It would be the safest plan. I can at any rate let her have seven sovereigns; and perhaps if she has that, she will not say anything whatever about the matter. How miserable28 I shall feel without it; but anything, anything is better than the dreadful fact getting to Miss Sherrard's ears that I broke one of the strictest rules of the school, and borrowed eight pounds from Kitty. The Tug-of-war Society would never again have anything to do with me. I should have the poorest chance of remaining in the school. It would get to Aunt Charlotte's ears. Yes, yes; all my future depends on keeping this thing dark. I must get rid of that dreadful money as quickly as possible. I thought my luck was going to turn; but it is far too good to be true that I might keep such a large sum of money safely. Poor Kitty! yes of course, I'm sorry for her; but she is certain to tell on me. She would think nothing of getting me into the most terrible scrape. I—I am bound to think of myself first."
At this point in her meditations29 Elma reached the house in Constantine Road. She ran up the steps, let herself in with a latchkey, and went straight to her room. She opened the drawer where she kept Kitty's precious sovereigns and put in her hand to take out the little paper parcel. More than once since she had possessed31 this money had Elma examined that little packet, getting up early in the morning to gloat over it, looking at it the last thing at night; but always taking care that Carrie should be sound asleep. It gave her comfort, the comfort almost of a miser27 to gaze at her gold. She used to forget at these supreme32 moments that the gold was in reality not hers at all. She used to forget everything but the delightful33 sense of possession. She felt as if she could never spend the money, as if she must hoard34 it and hoard it just for the mere35 pleasure of looking at it. She knew the exact corner of the drawer where she kept it; no one ever dared to meddle36 with Elma's drawers. She kept the rest of the family more or less in awe30 of her. As to Maggie, she was honest as the day. But what was the matter? Search as she would she could not find the precious little packet. She looked frantically37 here, there, and everywhere. Soon she had removed the drawer from its case and had tumbled all the contents on her bed. Nowhere was the money to be found. Elma's face turned white as a sheet. She trembled from head to foot. In the midst of her meditations Carrie entered the room.
"My dear Elma, what is the matter?" she cried.
A glance had shown her what was really wrong. A smile crossed her face.
She walked deliberately38 across the room and flung herself on her bed.
"How hot it is," she said with a pant.
"Dear me, Carrie, why are you so incorrigibly39 lazy?" said Elma. "Not that I care—I am in dreadful trouble I———"
"You look like it," said Carrie. "What is the matter?"
"I am looking for some money."
"Money? What money are you likely to have?"
"Well, it so happens that I have some—a good deal. Carrie have you seen it?"
"Have I seen what?" asked Carrie in a provokingly drawling voice.
"Why, my money. How did you think I got that dress, that dress which you are racking through at such a furious pace?"
Carrie was attired40 in the pale blue nun's-veiling. It was Carrie's way to have a dress and to wear it morning, noon, and night, destroying all its freshness. The nun's-veiling was already dirty and draggled-looking.
"How do you think I got that dress that you made such a fuss about if I had not money to pay for it?"
"I am sure I couldn't tell, and what's more, I didn't care," said Carrie. "What is vexing41 you now, Elma? Oh! what a commotion42 you are making in your poor drawer!"
"I have just lost seven sovereigns and—Carrie, I see by your face that you do know something about it. Is it possible that you stole the money?"
"How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" said Carrie, flaring43 up in apparently44 most righteous indignation—- in reality she was enjoying herself immensely. She had made up her mind not to tell Elma the truth at present. By and by she would tell, after she had well frightened her sister, but certainly not yet.
"I know nothing whatever about it," she said, caring little for the lie which she was telling. "I am sorry you have lost it; but how did you get it?"
Elma was silent, shutting up her lips tightly. The dinner-gong sounded, and the girls went down to their midday meal.
Carrie soon perceived that Elma was in real trouble. With all her low, idle, careless, and unprincipled ways, at the bottom of her heart she was fond of her sister. She made up her mind to visit Sam Raynes that evening and get him to return the money.
"Poor old Elma," she said to herself. "I don't want to be too hard on her. It is not the fun I expected when she looks at me with such miserable eyes. It would certainly not do for her to get talking to Maggie."
"You leave the matter to me. I may have a clue," she said, when dinner was over. "But rest assured on one point, Maggie has nothing to do with it, nor has mother."
Here Carrie ran upstairs, to put on her things preparatory to returning to her pupils.
Elma was now alone. The hour was three o'clock. At half-past four she was to meet Gwin Harley and the rest of the Tug-of-War girls. In the meantime she knew she could not possibly have any peace of mind until the seven sovereigns were discovered.
Mrs. Lewis had gone up as usual to her room to lie down. She had a headache and was in very low spirits. Elma glanced at her once or twice and determined not to worry her; but Maggie she considered her lawful45 prey46. She had given Carrie no promise, and felt sure that Maggie and Carrie between them were at the bottom of the mystery. She determined to go into the kitchen and terrify Maggie into confession47.
That young woman was busy giving sundry48 touches to the charming toque with which she intended to electrify49 her young man on the following Sunday.
"Maggie," said Elma, "I wish to speak to you."
"Oh lor! miss, how you startled me," cried Maggie. She jumped up as she spoke, dropping Kitty's violets to the floor. They were so natural, so beautiful, so exactly like the real flowers, that more than one girl had remarked upon them, and among these had been Elma. As they lay on the by-no-means-too-clean kitchen floor, she stooped now to pick them up.
"Where did you get these?" she asked in a sharp voice.
"Oh, Miss Helma, they're mine, and you have no right to 'em," was the quick reply.
"Where did you get them, Maggie? You're a bad girl; you must have stolen them."
"I steal 'em! I like that," said Maggie, turning first crimson50 and then very white. "They was give to me by the young Irish lady."
"By Miss Malone, Miss Kitty Malone?"
"Yes, miss; the prettiest young lady I ever clapped eyes on; she give 'em to me herself."
"Look here, Maggie," said Elma, "the violets don't matter. Let us talk of something else. Do you know anything about some money which I keep in my drawer upstairs? Now look me straight in the eyes. I miss that money, and you know I can call in the police and have your boxes searched. Do you know anything about it? If you'll tell me the truth I'll be merciful to you. Last night I had seven sovereigns in my drawer, but now they are gone. Did you touch them, Maggie? Tell me the truth and at once."
"I touch your money, miss! I didn't know you had any, that I didn't."
Poor Maggie's face was a study. Perplexity, despair, indignation swept over it in a sort of terror.
"Miss Helma, you're cruel to talk to me like that," she cried. "Me touch your money! No, that I didn't. Oh, miss, is it the money Miss Malone come about? Is it gone?"
A wild hope flashed through Elma's brain, to be discarded the next moment. Could Kitty have come to the house and visited her room and taken away her own money herself?
"What do you mean about Miss Malone?" she cried.
"She come here miss. Oh, Miss Helma, don't look at me so scornfully. She came here yesterday and asked for you and when I told her you was out she writ21 a letter, and said you was to have it the moment you come in, and that it was as important as the Bank of England. Yes, that she did—and she laid it on the blotter in the dining-room. She was the prettiest young lady I ever set eyes on, and she took them violets out of her cap and give them to me. She was in an awful way, and said she wanted to see you on a most important matter. I don't know what she wrote in the letter; but it may have been about the money, miss."
"Of course it was about the money," said Elma, who felt more and more uncomfortable each moment; "but where is the letter, Maggie? Why did I not get it?"
"You ask Miss Carrie that, miss. She come in, and—. Oh, but I mustn't tell any more."
"But you must and shall," said Elma. She took hold of Maggie fiercely by her arm, dragged her forward to the light, and looked her full in the eyes. "Now, tell me every single thing you know, or I'll summon the police this moment," she said.
Thus adjured51, Maggie fell on her knees and made an ample confession.
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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determined
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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apathy
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writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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embargo
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miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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delightful
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hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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mere
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meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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frantically
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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incorrigibly
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| adv.无法矫正地；屡教不改地；无可救药地；不能矫正地 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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electrify
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| v.使充电；使电气化；使触电；使震惊；使兴奋 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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adjured
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| v.（以起誓或诅咒等形式）命令要求( adjure的过去式和过去分词 )；祈求；恳求 | |
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