Kitty looked hard at her for one moment longer, and then sank on her knees by the side of the bed. She had no choice but to believe. She broke into a torrent of words, low-spoken, not to rouse the child. Louie heard them, amazed. Slowly her incredulity turned into contempt. The horrid little beast! But, after all, she was not surprised. It was all in his character. Perhaps he had been drunk; perhaps it was merely a fancy-stationery idea of humour. Not that she minded a straw; she laughed; she supposed she was there to have stones thrown at her; it was merely a little annoying that they were not thrown straighter. She could picture the over-pocket-monied little bounder, measuring all pecks out of his own bushel, leaning up against a bar somewhere, probably too fuddled to distinguish his own humorous fancy from a story of life with names given, and believing it himself by the time he had repeated it once or twice. The little worm! "But," she said presently, disgustedly smiling, "_you_ remember when I came to the School, and that I asked _you_ who Mr. Jeffries was----" "Of course!" said Kitty, suddenly entirely believing. "How absurd! But oh, I do love him so." Louie mused. "And he--Mr. Jeffries--knows nothing about this, you say?" she asked presently. "No. He thinks something's wrong. He's been teaching at the School, you know, and of course he must have wondered what was the matter all this last week." "It's a week since Mr. Merridew--did me this favour?" "Yes. But perhaps Jeff thought----" She checked herself. "What? I think I ought to know what Mr. Jeffries may have thought." Kitty hesitated, and then, with a little burst, told her. It was curious. It appeared that Mr. Jeffries had been very hard up indeed, so hard up that, quite recently, he had actually had to take a position as a commissionaire. It was known, and possibly he had set any oddities of behaviour towards himself down to that. A commissionaire! Louie was astounded. "And aren't you going to tell him?" she managed to get out. "I must, the very next time I see him." "You mean to-morrow?" "I don't know. You see"--Kitty hesitated again--"he's left the School. Practically been dismissed. He's got some work at Bedford now." "Dismissed on account of this?" "I expect so." "And now, of course, you've got to tell him that you believed this?" Kitty dropped her head on the bed. She gave a little moan. "I don't know how I shall ever do it!" she groaned in the bedclothes. Louie considered herself entitled to agree that it wouldn't be easy. Presently Kitty rose. She crossed to Louie's mirror and adjusted the boat-shaped hat. Then she came back to the bedside again and craned her head forward. "May I see the baby?" she asked. "Another time, I think," said Louie, her lips compressed. Kitty left.