"To be sure I will, miss. Come right along in. Oh, what a beautiful young lady you is!" "Every one tells me I am beautiful," thought Kitty. "It really is very pleasant. I am more flattered here than I was in Ireland. People told me there I had a face like cream and roses, or cream and strawberries, and father used to say that I had washed it in the fairies' dew, and Laurie would tell me that I was a bouncing girl and no mistake; but then Aunt Honora was always saying: 'Kitty dear, beauty is only skin deep, and don't be set up by it, child. Handsome is that handsome does, Kitty.' Oh, how she would deave me with that old proverb. But here they seem to think beauty is a talent, and I ought to be desperately proud of it. Oh, faith, but why do I think of these things when my precious duck of a Laurie is in the mess he has got into. He go to England to break his heart, the darling! Not a bit of it; not while his Kitty has her wits about her." Meanwhile Maggie conducted this ravishing and welcome visitor into the tiny sitting-room, furnished her with pen, ink, and paper, and then began to hover about near the door in order to get another view of the lovely cap. Kitty bent her head over the sheet of paper and indited a letter in hot and furious haste: "DEAR ELMA: I am so sorry, but I must ask you to return that eight pounds to me immediately. I want it for Laurie. He has got into trouble and requires it; so don't keep me waiting a single minute if you can help it. I am so sorry you are out; but will you bring it to me the instant you return home? It is of the most vital importance. I am in dreadful trouble, and nothing else will save Laurie. Yours in great haste, KITTY MALONE." Having written the letter, Kitty looked round for an envelope; Maggie also searched to right and left, but could not find one. "But it will be all right, miss," she said. "I'll lay it just as it is flat out on the table, and Miss Helma will see it the moment she comes in." "Thank you," answered Kitty. "And now I must go. Be sure you give it to her her the instant she returns, and tell her to come straight to me with the money, for I must send it off to-night whatever happens. It is a money transaction; and you understand, don't you? What is your name?" "Maggie, miss." "Well, you understand, Maggie, that any transaction connected with money is very important." "Like the Bank of England, miss?" "Yes, to be sure, and--" "Oh, miss, forgive me; but you promised me them wiolets." "To be sure I did." Kitty snatched them from her toque, flung them to Maggie, who caught them in an ecstacy, and a moment later was running home as fast as she could. CHAPTER XI. IN CARRIE'S BEDROOM.