“I am very sorry, Aunt Julia; I hate to trouble you at such a time; but I have really no choice—I ought to have spoken sooner—I owe a great deal more than a thousand dollars.” “A great deal more? Do you owe two? She must have robbed you!” “I told you it was not only Celeste. I—there are other bills—more pressing—that must be settled.” “What on earth have you been buying? Jewelry? You must have gone off your head,” said Mrs. Peniston with asperity. “But if you have run into debt, you must suffer the consequences, and put aside your monthly income till your bills are paid. If you stay quietly here until next spring, instead of racing about all over the country, you will have no expenses at all, and surely in four or five months you can settle the rest of your bills if I pay the dress-maker now.” Lily was again silent. She knew she could not hope to extract even a thousand dollars from Mrs. Peniston on the mere plea of paying Celeste’s bill: Mrs. Peniston would expect to go over the dress-maker’s account, and would make out the cheque to her and not to Lily. And yet the money must be obtained before the day was over! “The debts I speak of are—different—not like tradesmen’s bills,” she began confusedly; but Mrs. Peniston’s look made her almost afraid to continue. Could it be that her aunt suspected anything? The idea precipitated Lily’s avowal. “The fact is, I’ve played cards a good deal—bridge; the women all do it; girls too—it’s expected. Sometimes I’ve won—won a good deal—but lately I’ve been unlucky—and of course such debts can’t be paid off gradually——” She paused: Mrs. Peniston’s face seemed to be petrifying as she listened. “Cards—you’ve played cards for money? It’s true, then: when I was told so I wouldn’t believe it. I won’t ask if the other horrors I was told were true too; I’ve heard enough for the state of my nerves. When I think of the example you’ve had in this house! But I suppose it’s your foreign bringing-up—no one knew where your mother picked up her friends. And her Sundays were a scandal—that I know.” Mrs. Peniston wheeled round suddenly. “You play cards on Sunday?” Lily flushed with the recollection of certain rainy Sundays at Bellomont and with the Dorsets. “You’re hard on me, Aunt Julia: I have never really cared for cards, but a girl hates to be thought priggish and superior, and one drifts into doing what the others do. I’ve had a dreadful lesson, and if you’ll help me out this time I promise you—” Mrs. Peniston raised her hand warningly. “You needn’t make any promises: it’s unnecessary. When I offered you a home I didn’t undertake to pay your gambling debts.” “Aunt Julia! You don’t mean that you won’t help me?” “I shall certainly not do anything to give the impression that I countenance your behaviour. If you really owe your dress-maker, I will settle with her—beyond that I recognize no obligation to assume your debts.”