"I know; it is sweetly pretty," said Elma.

"Oh, there you are, praising everything she does! Well, anyhow, she wore it, and her arms were bare to the elbow, and she stuck one of the college caps on her head. What will Dr. Butler say? She went with Fred to see you, by the way, Elma. She seemed in an awful hurry to find you.

She was in trouble about her brother, and she said you could help her."

"Oh, nonsense!" said Elma. But she had an uncomfortable feeling as the words were said. Her thoughts naturally flew to the eight pounds which Kitty had lent her. Was it possible that Kitty wanted that lovely, that beautiful money back again? Elma had felt almost as if she were living in fairyland from the time that money had been in her possession. She would part with it whenever the day came with extreme reluctance.

"Well," she said, "I cannot imagine what she wanted with me; but what happened?"

"Some rough boys outside the 'Spotted Leopard' were rude to her, and she knocked one of them down; then Miss Worrick came up and took her back to our house; and Miss Sherrard has written this morning to say that mother is to bring Kitty up to school, and that she must have the whole thing explained. There's a nice state of things!"

At that moment the great gong was heard, and the girls were obliged to troop into the school. Prayers were conducted as usual in the great hall, and Elma, Gwin, Alice, and Bessie looked in every imaginable corner for a sight of Kitty Malone. She was not present, however, and they were obliged afterward to go to their cla.s.s-rooms without having caught sight of her beaming and brilliant face.

Meanwhile Mrs. Denvers and Kitty were waiting for Miss Sherrard in the head-mistress' private sitting-room. Kitty went to the window and looked out.

"I like Miss Sherrard," she said, turning to Mrs. Denvers as she spoke.

"I am really sorry to annoy her. It is about a fortnight ago since she spoke to me in this very room; she spoke so kindly, and told me that I had got talents. I was astonished, for I thought she meant cleverness, and I have always been told that I am a dunce; she said that she knew I had good abilities, and that besides I had plenty of other talents--nice dress, and good looks." Kitty colored and flashed a half-defiant, half-roguish glance at Mrs. Denvers. "She also spoke about my money as a talent. Oh, dear, I felt half-conceited, half-delighted when I left her, and I made up my mind that I would be good; but it seems useless, more than useless. Oh, my poor money, my poor money! I have got none of it left now, or at least scarcely any."

"My dear child, no money!" exclaimed Mrs. Denvers. "Impossible. When you spoke to me last you had about fifteen pounds. Kitty, my dear, it is wrong for you to squander money in that fashion."

"But I haven't squandered it, Mrs. Denvers, not really. I have not got it with me, it is true; but most of it is safe, only I must not talk about that. There's another secret for you. What an awful place England is! Oh, dear, dear! I am in a muddle about everything. I can't bear to stand in this room and remember Miss Sherrard's talk. Fancy her saying that even my dress was a talent! Now there's something in favor of my nice red cotton and my dear red silk blouse; and fancy her saying still more that my looks, my pretty face, was a talent! Mrs. Denvers, do you think me pretty, very, very, very pretty?"

"No, Kitty dear, not so wonderfully pretty as that; but you have an attractive face. Miss Sherrard is quite right; beauty is a gift, although it used to be my old-fashioned idea that the less girls were told about their looks the better."

"Oh, but that's all exploded, love," cried Kitty. "In these days girls are told when they are pretty just as much as they are told when they are clever. Now, I'm not clever, not a bit. I'm a dunce, an out and out dunce; but at any rate I've got a pretty face, and I promised that I would use my talents for--for the best--" Here she lowered her face and a thoughtful and beautiful expression came into the great big eyes. "But it's no use," she added. "I am bothered entirely every day of my life, and I am just going from bad to worse."

"Hush, Kitty, you must not talk in that way Hark! I think I hear Miss Sherrard's step." As Mrs. Denvers spoke the door was slowly opened and Miss Sherrard, accompanied by Miss Worrick, came in. Miss Sherrard was just about to speak; but before she could utter a word Kitty rushed to her.

"I have failed, darling; I have failed entirely," she gasped out, "I meant to do right, but I did wrong; I have become worse and worse, although I cannot see the wrong myself. But Miss Worrick has found it out. I want to give up the school, darling, and to go back to Old Ireland. They don't think so badly of me in Old Ireland, and they'll let me dress as I like and go out when I like; and--and, I am not fit for England, dear. Please write to dad and tell him so--tell him I am a failure as far as England is concerned. He'll understand, dear old man.

He'll be sorry, but he'll understand. Let me go home again, please, Miss Sherrard--let me go home!"

"No, Kitty, I shall do nothing of the kind," answered Miss Sherrard.

"You must not kiss me just now, my dear; no, I am not pleased at all.

You did very wrong to go out as late as you did last night. You broke one of the strictest rules of the school, and have brought discredit upon us all. Miss Worrick, will you please relate exactly what occurred?"

Miss Worrick now stood up and made as much as she possibly could of poor Kitty's little escapade in front of the "Spotted Leopard." The story so described made anything but a pleasant picture. Miss Sherrard who was tenacious with regard to the school, and most anxious that each and all of her girls should bear the highest character for quiet and orderly behavior, was deeply annoyed.

"Kitty," she said, "I have always been strangely unwilling to punish you. I have never ceased to remember that you have not been brought up like most of the girls here--that you have enjoyed a freer, wilder life.

On that account I have tried to be very patient with you, my dear; but I am sorry to say that I have no alternative now. I must punish you, and severely. For the next week you are to stay in during the morning recess, and after school is over will remain here day by day to learn different tasks which will be set you. Further, my dear--and this, I am sure, will be the most severe part of your punishment--your school companions are absolutely forbidden to speak to you, and you must give your word of honor that you will hold no communication with any of them until the week has expired."

This very severe sentence made poor Kitty quite collapse. She sat down on the nearest chair and her rosy face turned pale.

"Oh, I cannot give my word of honor," she gasped. "I must speak. I must at least speak to Elma Lewis."

"You are not to speak to any of your companions, with the exception of Alice Denvers, in whose house you live," said Miss Sherrard. "Kitty, if you disobey me, I shall have to expel you, and then indeed you will be disgraced for life. My dear you must bow to my authority--you are to speak to no girl in the school. I trust to your honor to obey me in this particular. If you are expelled--and it will certainly happen if I find that you are not keeping your word--you will be branded for life."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LOST PACKET.

After parting with Kitty, Miss Sherrard went back to the school. As she did so, she said a few words to Miss Worrick. The result of this was that all the girls were summoned to appear in the great central hall.

When there they were told very briefly--Miss Sherrard standing by her desk as she spoke--that Miss Malone was in disgrace.

"Miss Malone has done something which obliges me to put her into Coventry for a week," said the head-mistress. "Her schoolfellows are forbidden to have any intercourse with her. If she attempts to speak to any girl belonging to Middleton School, with the exception of Alice Denvers, in whose house she is living, that girl holds communication with her at her own peril. Such a girl stands a grave chance of being expelled from the school."

Miss Sherrard then descended from her platform, and the usual work of the morning went on.

It may easily be guessed that Kitty Malone, and Kitty Malone only, was the subject of conversation during recess. What had she done? Why was Miss Sherrard so very severe on her? It was not often that a Middleton girl was given such a very terrible punishment. Alice who knew all about it, and Bessie, who knew a little, were therefore in immense request.

Girls came up to these two in groups to find out what was the matter; and when they heard from Alice the very glaring account of what Kitty had really done on the previous night, they listened with open mouths, giving vent to their feelings in different ways. The larger number p.r.o.nounced Kitty's conduct to be the height of all that was disgraceful.

"Is it true," said one, "that she really wore the college cap? Oh, what will Dr. Butler say if he finds it out? Alice, you cannot mean that she had bare arms, bare from the elbows? Oh, impossible!"

"But Alice," said another, "tell me, did she really, really, knock one of those horrid boys down?"

"Yes; like a ninepin, so Fred says," replied Alice. "Oh, it was disgraceful. Don't talk of it any more; my cheeks burn whenever I think of it."

"But after all, Alice"--said Gwin, who came up at that moment. Gwin's tone sounded quiet, stately, penetrating; it rose above the din which the other girls were making. "After all, Alice, don't you think that you were to blame too? Why did you not let Kitty get into your room and hers? If she wanted to go for a walk it was surely natural enough to ask for her hat and jacket; you refused to give them to her."

"Of course I refused," said Alice, who did not at all wish to share any of poor Kitty's blame. "Kitty knew perfectly well that she was breaking one of the school rules as well as one of our home rules by going out at such an hour--it was between nine and ten o'clock. As to her going without her hat and jacket, such an idea never entered my wildest dreams. No; bad as I thought Kitty, I did not think her bad enough for that. There is no excuse for her. She is well punished, and for my part I cannot but rejoice."

"For my part," said Gwin gravely, "I am extremely sorry. I like Kitty; I like her much. She has her faults of course; she is different from any of the rest of us; she is wild and daring and eccentric; but she is also the soul of honesty and candor. She is very affectionate and very generous. She has not been brought up in the least as we have been.

Things we think wrong are not considered wrong by Kitty Malone. As she herself expresses it, she is a little bit wild. Oh, I am sorry for her, dreadfully sorry; and I think Miss Sherrard has been too severe. I wonder at Miss Sherrard. I thought she understood Kitty. She spoke to mother so kindly about her yesterday; she said there was a great deal of good in the Irish girl, as she called her; and also said that she was very glad that I was her friend. Although Miss Sherrard does not know any of the rules of the Tug-of-war Society, she naturally knows that we have formed it. She told me that she could not express how pleased she was at our having asked Kitty to become a member. Girls, I wish I could speak to Miss Sherrard. I think I will. It will break Kitty's heart to be kept in Coventry for a week."

"I doubt if she has a heart," said Alice. "It is all very fine to talk of her affectionate ways; for my part I call them nothing but impetuous.

She is vain, conceited, and selfish; and provided she gets her own way does not care what prejudices she rides roughshod over. Oh, I have no patience with her."

"But," said Bessie Challoner, who was standing stolidly by, looking very determined and very quiet, "what did Kitty want out at that hour?

Kitty with all her faults, would not break the rules unless she had a strong motive. What could have been the matter?"

"And why did she want to see you, Elma?" said Gwin. "Can you throw any light on the subject?"

Elma colored first and then turned pale. Several pairs of eyes were immediately fixed on her; one girl looked at the other, and a few nodded significantly. Elma observed the looks and turned away in hot fear.

"I don't know what she wanted with me," she muttered.

The rest of the school hours pa.s.sed as usual, and just before dinner, when the great school broke up for the day, Kitty was still the subject for conversation. Gwin lingered a little behind the others, and Bessie stopped to ask why she was doing so.

"I have almost made up my mind," she said, "to plead with Miss Sherrard for Kitty."

"Oh Gwin; how n.o.ble of you. I respect you, I do from my heart; but I tell you what. Would it not be better for us to do something of this sort? Why should not all the Tug-of-war girls plead for her? That would seem more effective and stronger, would it not? Suppose we wrote a letter, a sort of round-robin, and sent it to Miss Sherrard, begging of her to forgive Kitty this time; and taking upon ourselves the responsibility of her future conduct. Oh, I say, Gwin, could we not do it?"

"It is a splendid thought," said Gwin; "much--much better than my talking to Miss Sherrard alone. Look here, Bessie; could we not manage to have a meeting of the Tug-of-war at my house this evening? Oh, there's Elma; I'll ask her at once. Elma come here."

Elma who was just shouldering her books preparatory to leaving the school, turned when she heard Gwin's voice.

"What is it, Gwin?" she asked; her manner was a little nervous.