"He was so vexed," I said. "And he's been angry and disagreeable since. And yesterday evening he told me—told me—he meant to go away. I didn't believe him. I thought it was all nonsense." "When did he tell you?" "Out-of-doors," I said. "When, Kitty?" says she again. "When I was coming back from the shop," I said, wishing mother wouldn't put so many questions. "Ah—was it Rupert who kept you so long?" says mother, looking straight at me, and I felt myself get scarlet. "I saw Rupert—then," I said. "And—I met Mr. Russell too—and he told me he was going—and said—good-bye." It was hard to get that word out; but I felt sure mother had an idea of Mr. Russell, and I knew if I didn't tell she'd ask. "Ah!" says she again. "Rupert needn't have been so cross and jealous," I went on. "Jealous, was he?" "He can't bear me to speak to—anybody," I whispered, wishing I hadn't let that word slip. "He was jealous of Mr. Russell, you mean?" said mother. I think I said "Yes," quite low. Then another question came, which I had been dreading all along— "Kitty, did Mr. Russell say anything of that sort to you too?" I didn't know what to say, for I dared not tell a lie. "Did he ever ask you to marry him?" mother said; and I knew she was drawing a long breath up and up, as if she felt a weight somewhere. "No, mother," I said, for he had not. "No! But he has said soft words, maybe. Soft words don't cost much, Kitty, nor they don't always mean much." I couldn't speak. Mother came close, and I held her tight, and she sighed again, though she wasn't given to sighing commonly. "Well, it can't be helped now," she said. "I might have had more sense at my time of life. I do wish I'd been sharper. Kitty, if you're a wise girl you won't let yourself spend time thinking about Mr. Russell's soft speeches, nor Rupert's hard ones. I don't doubt Rupert's gone off in a temper, and I shouldn't wonder if he didn't come back for some days—a week or more, maybe. That's bad for his mother! You'll get the credit of his going, and you'd best take it quiet. Least said 'll be soonest mended in the end." If I had but thought of that the evening before, and not spoken the hasty words which drove Rupert away! Poor foolish boy! For he was gone. Father came soon and told us so. He wasn't at the station nor anywhere in the village. Nobody had seen him. He didn't come back in a week either! Mother was wrong there! It was a terrible blow for Mrs. Bowman and Mabel. Mabel could do fine needlework, and Mrs. Bowman was used to go out for a day's work; but now they would have to keep themselves altogether, Rupert's wages being gone.