"What is it?" she asked. "Are you not pleased? Elma took you the money, did she not? She must have stayed with one of the Middleton School girls for the night, for she never returned home; but she took you the money. I thought I did very well by you. Were you not satisfied?" "She took me the money?" cried Kitty, turning pale. "No; that she did not. I never had any money. What do you mean, Carrie?" "What I say," answered Carrie. "Oh, do sit down, Kitty; you look quite ghastly. I gave Elma ten pounds seven shillings and twopence to give you I got eleven guineas for your things, including the watch and chain. After I deducted my ten per cent., the balance for you was ten pounds seven and twopence. I thought you would be delighted. Did she not take you the money early yesterday evening?" "No. I have never seen her." "But she left here quite early on purpose. She said she was going straight to your house. I sent you plenty of money, did I not?" "How much did you say?" asked Kitty, putting her hand up to her forehead in a distracted way. "Ten pounds seven and twopence. You only really wanted eight pounds, did you not?" "I had a little money of my own, and eight pounds would have done," said Kitty in a low voice; "but----" Here she sprang forward and gripped Carrie by the arm. "What does it mean, Carrie--what does it mean? Elma never came near me; I never, never saw her last night." "You never saw her? Elma never went to you?" "No, never. Do you think I would tell an untruth? I never saw her, not since early school yesterday. Oh, Carrie, tell me what it means?" "I cannot. I must say it looks very queer," said Carrie. She frowned, turned her back partly upon Kitty, and supporting her fat chin on one of her dimpled hands, began to think deeply. The more she thought the less she liked the aspect of affairs. "Carrie, what does it mean?" cried Kitty, reiterating her words in a kind of frenzy of agitation. "Oh, stop talking to me for a minute, Kitty! I must think this out." Carrie walked to the window, pulled up the blinds, threw the sash up, and allowed the fresh morning air to blow upon her hot face. After a time she turned round and faced Kitty. "You may well look pale," she said. "I confess I am as bewildered as you are yourself. Of course Elma may have been taken ill--she had a dreadful shock yesterday." "How?" "You are silly to talk like that. Don't you know?" "You mean because I told about her?" "Well, it turned out very badly, as badly as possible. You did tell, and when you did so you ruined her. If you had only kept that precious story to yourself, even for twenty-four hours, little Elma would have been made--made for life; but you ruined her." "Oh do please tell me what you mean! My head is going round in a whirl; I can scarcely follow you." "You can pull yourself together if you like. This is what happened. I told you, did I not, yesterday, that Aunt Charlotte pays Elma's fees at Middleton School?"