I half laughed, though my heart was so sore for Mr. Russell that tears lay nearer than laughter. Then I thought of the strange look that had come to Rupert's face, and I called out "Rupert!" but had no answer. "Rupert!" I cried again. It was too late. He had gone out of hearing. And, after all, what matter? I could tell him in the morning that I had only been cross, and that I had not really meant anything so bad as "hating;" only he must leave off meddling and saying hard words to me. I went back into the house, for I knew mother would be expecting me. She gave a look up, and said— "What's the matter?" "I'm—tired," I said. My feet seemed to have turned to lead, and I felt as if I would do anything to have a good cry. "Sit down and rest," says she. "You've gone as white as a sheet." But I didn't dare sit down and think, for I couldn't have kept up then. The thought of Rupert was fading away like smoke. I could only feel that Mr. Russell was gone, and that everything was different. "I must get in help," mother said. "You've done too much lately." "O no," I said. "Yes. Mary will be here another month: Mr. Baitson says so; and I'm glad enough to keep her; but I can't have you knocked up." After a minute, mother said— "Mr. Russell is going." I didn't say a word. "He's been in to bid Mary good-bye. It's rather sudden. I'm not sorry for my part," mother said. I stood leaning against the dresser, and felt as if I must choke. Mother gave me another look. Then she came close, and put her arms round me; and I clung to her, and cried—oh, how I did cry! Mother just petted and soothed, and didn't ask a single question; only presently she talked of other things, and tried to lead my thoughts away from him. For, you see, she hadn't a notion of anything between us two. She only thought her Kitty's silly heart was touched. She trusted me so, she could not fancy anything said which I would not tell her. And she had no notion of making matters worse by a lot of talk about Mr. Russell. CHAPTER V. RUPERT. "WHAT'S become of Rupert?" father said at breakfast next day. We always breakfasted at half-past seven, partly because father had to be up so early, and partly because mother liked it. Rupert ought to have been in the ticket-office half-an-hour before, in time for the first passenger-train that stopped at Claxton. Plenty of luggage-trains went by in the night, but happily for father and the men, there wasn't much shunting of them at our station, like at the next station. They had to work there through a good part of the night. "Hasn't he come as usual?" mother asked, in answer to father's question. Rupert was so regular, it seemed astonishing he should fail. "Not a sign of him. If it was anybody else, I'd say he was lazy; but Rupert's not given to laziness. I'm afraid he can't be well," father went on. "We shall hear presently."