“I paid a dollar and a half for them, and they can’t be washed,” groaned Kitty. “Oh, hang the gloves! I meant your hands,” cried Jack, trying to keep sober. “No matter for my hands, I mourn my gloves. But I won’t cry any more, for my head aches now so I can hardly see.” And Kitty threw off her bonnet, as if even that airy trifle hurt her. Seeing how pale she looked, Jack tenderly suggested a rest on the old sofa, and a wet handkerchief on her hot forehead, while he got the good landlady to send her up a cup of tea. As Kitty rose to comply she glanced at her dress, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed, tragically,— “The facing, the fatal facing! That made all the mischief, for if I’d sewed it last night it wouldn’t have ripped to-day; if it hadn’t ripped Fletcher wouldn’t have got his foot in it, I shouldn’t have made an object of myself, he wouldn’t have gone off in a rage, and—who knows what might have happened?” “Bless the what’s-its-name if it has settled him,” cried Jack. “He is a contemptible fellow not to stay and help you out of the scrape he got you into. Follow his lead and don’t trouble yourself about him.” “Well, he _was_ rather absurd to-day, I allow; but he _has_ got handsome eyes and hands, and he _does_ dance like an angel,” sighed Kitty, as she pinned up the treacherous loop which had brought destruction to her little castle in the air. “Handsome eyes, white hands, and angelic feet don’t make a man. Wait till you can do better, Kit.” With an odd, grave look, that rather startled Kitty, Jack vanished, to return presently with a comfortable cup of tea and a motherly old lady to help repair damages and soothe her by the foolish little purrings and pattings so grateful to female nerves after a flurry. “I’ll come back and take you out to see the dance round the tree when you’ve had a bit of a rest,” said Jack, vibrating between door and sofa as if it wasn’t easy to get away. “Oh, I couldn’t,” cried Kitty, with a shudder at the bare idea of meeting any one. “I can’t be seen again to-night; let me stay here till my train goes.” “I thought it had gone, already,” said Jack, with an irrepressible twinkle of the eye that glanced at the draggled dress sweeping the floor. “How _can_ you joke about it!” and the girl’s reproachful eyes filled with tears of shame. “I know I’ve been very silly, Jack, but I’ve had my punishment, and I don’t need any more. To feel that you despise me is worse than all the rest.” She ended with a little sob, and turned her face away to hide the trembling of her lips. At that, Jack flushed up, his eyes shone, and he stooped suddenly as if to make some impetuous reply. But, remembering the old lady (who, by the by, was discreetly looking out of window), he put his hands in his pockets and strolled out of the room.