"Yes, sir. I can't abide talk," mother answered him. "You don't like talk of the wrong sort," says Mr. Armstrong. "It's sure to be wrong, when there's much of it," says mother. "Too often, I'm afraid—yes," Mr. Armstrong said. "'In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin,' you know." "That's just it," mother said. And then what I was dreading came all of a sudden. "Mrs. Phrynne, I saw a friend of yours last week," says Mr. Armstrong. Mother waited to hear more. "I mean Lord Leigh," said he. "His lordship wouldn't thank you to call him my friend," says mother. "I'm not so sure," says Mr. Armstrong, smiling. "He asked most particularly after you and Kitty, and he said he wished there were more mothers like you in the world." "I'm much obliged to him, sir," mother said; and though she tried not to look too pleased, she was pleased. "And that reminds me," says Mr. Armstrong, "I want Mrs. Withers to see the Earl's present to your Kitty—the famous gold watch. Would you have any objection?" "Not a bit," says father. "Run and fetch it, Kitty." I got up and went, though going was no good. At least it would give me time to think what I was to say or do. It's a wonder they didn't all see how dazed I was, and how I could scarce stand, for my knees were knocking together; but somehow they didn't. Father was talking to Mr. Armstrong; and mother was listening to Mrs. Withers; and nobody happened to look. I can't explain the sort of odd feeling that crept over me—a feeling as if I really had to look for the watch, even while it was no manner of use. I walked upstairs to my room, going slow because I couldn't go fast; and I opened the drawer where I always kept the watch, and peeped into other drawers as well. It must have been a temptation to deceit, though at the moment I seemed to do it in a sort of natural way. Then I went to the glass, and saw my own face, without a scrap of colour, and the lips all yellow-white. I didn't wonder; I felt so shaky and sick. What would they say downstairs? What would they think? How could I keep from saying what wasn't true and yet shelter Mr. Russell? "But I mustn't betray him! I have promised! Nobody is to know!" I said aloud. I didn't dare to go back, though I knew they were expecting me. I stood leaning against the table, counting the moments, in a sort of dull, half-stupid state. Perhaps if I waited long enough, Mr. Armstrong would get tired, and go away. All at once father shouted "Kitty!" I said "Yes," so as he couldn't possibly have heard. "Kitty, make haste!" he called again. "What are you after, child? Come along!" There was no help for it. I had to go. I went downstairs step by step, holding on to the banisters. As soon as father saw me, he said— "Make haste, child!" and went back to the others; so I had to follow alone. Mr. Armstrong was the first to catch sight of my face. "Why, Kitty! what is wrong?" says he. "The child is ill, surely."