Just at the moment I did not remember what Rupert had said to me the evening before. It would be thought more natural for me to remember at once, but I didn't. My head was so full of the thought of Mr. Russell. "Anybody come or go?" mother asked. It was the very question I wanted to put, only I had not courage. "Russell has left. That's all," father said. Then he was really gone! A sick feeling came over me, and I couldn't eat my breakfast. I knew mother saw, and I knew she wouldn't say a word: she'd always such a notion of the harm done by too many words. But father happened to look my way. "Why—Kitty!" says he. "The child's not well." "She has had too much to do lately," said mother. "Kitty's not overstrong." "Why, she's as white—" father said. "Come here, Kitty, and let's see what's wrong." I came as I was bidden, and he took hold of me, looking hard. I couldn't stand that. The next moment I was clinging to him, with my face down on his shoulder. Maybe mother made him some sort of sign. I shouldn't wonder if she did; for he cuddled me in his arms as if I'd been a small child again, and whispered— "Poor little kittenkins!" once or twice, which was my old nursery name. But he didn't ask any more questions. "She's been a good girl to help so steady all through Mary's illness," mother said presently. "I wish now I'd had a girl in to help; and I might have done it, but I thought I'd lay by what the Russells paid us. Maybe I've been penny wise and pound foolish, for once. But I did think, too, the work was good for Kitty." "So it is! so it was!" says father. "Good for everybody. And a good thing to lay by a few shillings too! But it isn't worth while to make our Kitty ill. That 'ud cost a lot more shillings than we could have laid by. Eh, Kitty? Come, cheer up!" says he. "We'll see what we can do to make you right again." How good they were to me, both father and mother!—and I deceiving them all the while! "Now I must go and see if Rupert has turned up," says father. "Kitty must get a run on the common, eh?" And all at once it darted into my head about Rupert the evening before, and how he had said good-bye. I started up in a moment. "O father! Oh, see about Rupert!" I cried, hardly able to speak yet, but scared at the thought that had come to me. "To be sure I will," says he. "You wouldn't like Rupert to be ill, eh?" "I hope he is—I hope it is that—I hope it isn't anything worse," I cried, scarce knowing what I said; and father did stare, but, I went on, pretty near out of breath with fright— "Oh, do make haste and see." "To be sure I will," says father again. "Why, Kitty, what's come over you to-day?" That very moment the kitchen door was pushed open, and Mrs. Bowman stood there. She was a puny sad-faced woman at the best of times, one of those folks who take life hard, and never get any pleasure out of it; but I'd never seen her look so haggard before. "Where's—Rupert?" she said, and she fixed her eyes on father.