At this point in her meditations Elma reached the house in Constantine Road. She ran up the steps, let herself in with a latchkey, and went straight to her room. She opened the drawer where she kept Kitty's precious sovereigns and put in her hand to take out the little paper parcel. More than once since she had possessed this money had Elma examined that little packet, getting up early in the morning to gloat over it, looking at it the last thing at night; but always taking care that Carrie should be sound asleep. It gave her comfort, the comfort almost of a miser to gaze at her gold. She used to forget at these supreme moments that the gold was in reality not hers at all. She used to forget everything but the delightful sense of possession. She felt as if she could never spend the money, as if she must hoard it and hoard it just for the mere pleasure of looking at it. She knew the exact corner of the drawer where she kept it; no one ever dared to meddle with Elma's drawers. She kept the rest of the family more or less in awe of her. As to Maggie, she was honest as the day. But what was the matter? Search as she would she could not find the precious little packet. She looked frantically here, there, and everywhere. Soon she had removed the drawer from its case and had tumbled all the contents on her bed. Nowhere was the money to be found. Elma's face turned white as a sheet. She trembled from head to foot. In the midst of her meditations Carrie entered the room. "My dear Elma, what is the matter?" she cried. A glance had shown her what was really wrong. A smile crossed her face. She walked deliberately across the room and flung herself on her bed. "How hot it is," she said with a pant. "Dear me, Carrie, why are you so incorrigibly lazy?" said Elma. "Not that I care--I am in dreadful trouble I------" "You look like it," said Carrie. "What is the matter?" "I am looking for some money." "Money? What money are you likely to have?" "Well, it so happens that I have some--a good deal. Carrie have you seen it?" "Have I seen what?" asked Carrie in a provokingly drawling voice. "Why, my money. How did you think I got that dress, that dress which you are racking through at such a furious pace?" Carrie was attired in the pale blue nun's-veiling. It was Carrie's way to have a dress and to wear it morning, noon, and night, destroying all its freshness. The nun's-veiling was already dirty and draggled-looking. "How do you think I got that dress that you made such a fuss about if I had not money to pay for it?" "I am sure I couldn't tell, and what's more, I didn't care," said Carrie. "What is vexing you now, Elma? Oh! what a commotion you are making in your poor drawer!" "I have just lost seven sovereigns and--Carrie, I see by your face that you do know something about it. Is it possible that you stole the money?"