Kitty was miserable that night. An Irish girl has always her ups and downs. She is either up in the seventh heaven of bliss, or she is down almost below the ordinary earth in misery. Kitty was suffering from an intense revulsion of spirits. Laurie was in trouble. He was the best brother in all the world; he was Kitty's idol. There never was anybody more reckless, more passionate, more dare-devil than Laurie Malone; and Kitty had always been with him heart and soul, always from the time that they had been little tots together. And now Laurie was in danger. The best broth of a boy might be condemned to go to a school in England; he might be condemned to the misery, the want of freedom, which she was now enduring. Oh, she must save him at any risk. She could do so. She could send him ten pounds; she would have exactly that sum in her possession if only Elma returned the eight which she had lent her. It did not occur to Kitty as at all difficult for Elma to return the money. She had never yet know money difficulties herself; and when Elma had asked for the loan of it she imagined that she could have it back at any time. If this was not the case it would not greatly matter; but now, of course, Laurie's letter altered the complexion of everything. Kitty was too unsettled and anxious to stay quiet for a single moment. She fidgeted Alice, who was busily engaged preparing her lessons for the following day. "Kitty," she said, when that erratic young person had jumped up to lean her body half out of the window for the twentieth time, "if you cannot sit still yourself, you ought to have some thought for me. What am I to do if you keep rushing to the window and back again to your seat every couple of minutes?" "I am looking for Elma," said Kitty. "For Elma Lewis? Do you expect her to-night?" "Yes, and on a matter of vital importance. Oh, don't talk to me please, Alice. If she doesn't come soon, I believe my heart will burst." "That is exactly like one of your exaggerated statements," said Alice. "People's hearts don't burst. Oh, if you only would stay quiet." "I believe that's herself turning round the corner," cried Kitty, bending out so far now that it was a wonder she was not overbalanced. "Really, Kitty, you make my heart stand still," said Alice. "You will fall out if you are not careful. Oh, for goodness' sake, don't stoop out any further." "It's not her," said Kitty, popping in her head. "I was only stooping far enough to catch a glimpse of her boots. Elma always wears such horrid shabby boots; and her feet are too large. By the way, Alice, what do you think of these shoes; do you like them with straps across, and little rosettes?" "I don't like anything in the way of dress at the present moment," said Alice. "I want quiet and peace. It is impossible for me to do anything while you fidget as you do." Kitty jumped with a bang into the nearest chair; opened a novel, and tried to read it upside down.