CHAPTER XX.
AN EYE-OPENER.
In her own room the miserable child fell on her knees, and gave way to aburst of passionate weeping. She cried as she had never cried in thewhole course of her life before; her tears seemed as though they couldnot cease. She was so exhausted at last that, kneeling by her littlebed, she fell into a sound sleep. In her sleep she dreamed that she washome again; but all was confusion, worry, distress. Laurie was going toa school in England; Laurie's heart was broken. Old Paddy Wheel-aboutwas dead; the squire was so upset and so angry that he would not evenallow Kitty herself to comfort him. Aunt Honora was grumbling and goingfrom room to room in the old Castle. Aunt Bridget was talking aboutdress, and scolding Kitty with regard to the state of her wardrobe.Kitty's head ached, and she felt a sense of irritation.
"And it's so pretty," said Aunt Honora. "Those ruffles round the skirtare done in such a dainty manner, and--oh, I won't disturb you if you'llallow me just to take the pattern. I can in a moment--don't move, don'tmove!"
Kitty opened her eyes in some bewilderment, and gazed full into the fatand somewhat red face of Carrie Lewis. It was Carrie's voice she hadheard, piercing through her dreams. It was Carrie who was bending byher side and holding up a length of her skirt in her hand.
"Oh, don't move, pray; I have just got the set of it; it's very curiousand very fashionable. I know Sam would like it awfully."
"Who are you, and what do you want?" said Kitty, jumping to her feet andconfronting her unwelcome visitor with flushed cheeks and sparklingeyes.
"I knocked at your door several times, and you didn't answer," saidCarrie; "so then I opened it softly and came in, and you werehalf-sitting, half-kneeling by your bed, sound asleep; and your skirtdid look so very fashionable that I was tempted!--oh yes, I have takenthe pattern in my mind's eye. I'll alter my blue nun's-veiling. I caneasily get a bit more of the stuff to match, and it will make it quite_comme il fait_,"
"But who are you?" said Kitty, who had never laid eyes on Carrie before.
"I'm Elma's sister. Now you know."
"Elma's sister?" said Kitty. "But what have you come to my room for?What do you want here?"
"To speak to you. I want to help you if you'll let me."
"To help me?" said Kitty languidly. "I would much rather you went away.You cannot help me; you know nothing whatever about me. I am in greatgreat trouble, and I would much rather be alone."
"You would not rather be alone if you could be helped," said Carrie. "Iknow all about it. You have got a brother in Ireland who has got into ascrape. Bless you, I know all about the scrapes of young men. Now, poorSam Raynes, he----. Yes, what is it, Miss Malone?"
"I wish you would leave me," said Kitty in a haughty tone. "I am notfriends with Elma just now, and I would rather not see any of herfamily."
"Yes, but I think you'll see me when I tell you my errand," said Carrie,in no way abashed by Kitty's manner. She crossed the room as she spoke,and deliberately placing herself in the one easy-chair the roompossessed, crossed her legs, and leaning back, looked fixedly at Kitty.
"Very well, if you won't go, then I must," said Kitty. "I don'tunderstand English people. They talk a great deal about manners; but noIrishwoman, none that I ever heard of, would dream----"
"Oh, bosh! Stop all that," said Carrie in her rudest voice. "I have comehere to help you, and I see that I must explain myself. You want somemoney, don't you?"
"Yes; but I cannot get it," answered Kitty.
"Oh, my dear, do just stay still a moment. What a sweet little shoe!Did you get it at any shop here?"
"No," answered Kitty, interested for the moment in spite of herself."Aunt Honora bought these in Grafton Street, Dublin. They have thenicest shoes in that special shop of any place I know. Do you like it?"
"Oh, it is quite sweet; it is the way the heel is arranged, and thatlittle buckle."
"Well, never mind about my shoes now," said Kitty, pushing theattractive little foot well in under her skirt. "What is it you havecome to say? Please say it, and then--go."
"I will, if you wish me to. Look here, I know all about your story. Youare in dreadful trouble, and so is Elma; but I do declare I think poorElma's trouble much worse than yours."
"You know nothing about it," cried Kitty, with passion. "Elma in worsetrouble! Oh, if you only could guess!"
"I guess well enough," said Carrie, "and so does Elma. You want money,which, evidently, as a rule, is as plentiful to you as blackberries onthe hedges in September; and you think, because you cannot lay your handon that money immediately, the whole world is going to change. But letme tell you that Elma and I want money far, far more badly than you haveany idea of. Until you gave Elma that eight pounds, we neither of usever in our lives had so much in our possession."
"I didn't give it--you make a mistake--I lent it."
"Oh, it is all the same. Elma had it, and, for practical purposes, itwas just as valuable as if it were really her own."
"Well, I want her to give it back to me now. I surely have a right toask for my own money back again?"
"No, you have not--not without reasonable notice. She asked you to lendher some money--she never asked for eight pounds--you let her take it.You said she might have as much as she liked. When she explained theposition of things to me, I said: 'Elma, you were a rare fool not totake the whole fifteen.'"
"You must be a very queer girl," said Kitty, astonished at thisremarkable specimen of young ladyhood.
"Am I? I don't know. I am frank, and I am generally hard-up. I know, ifany one does, where the shoe pinches. Bless you! it would do you good toopen your eyes. You don't know what poverty means--a little house, adisgusting little house, shabby paper, dirty ceilings, badly-carpetedfloors, the drains wrong, the water-supply as likely to poison us asnot, an invalid mother--"
"Oh, have you a mother? Then, I am sure you are not to be pitied,"interrupted Kitty.
"Little you know! What good is a mother who is in bed most of the day, afather who--Well, I need not mention him; he is not in the country atany rate. No education to speak of; no dress worth considering; toil,toil from morning till night; and life a mere scramble, a scramble forbread without butter. That's what our life is!"
Kitty had ceased to fidget; she even sank down on the corner of thenearest chair. Her pretty figure, her beautifully-appointed dress, herwhole appearance, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot,betokened what the other girl could never aspire to, never hope tohave--abundance of money. And yet at the present moment Kitty wasbreaking her heart for want of money. No wonder Carrie was puzzled.Kitty's own eyes were opened to an extent they had never been openedbefore.
"Yes, our life is a rough one," continued Carrie; "very rough indeed;but I don't grumble. I was brought up to it, and use is half thebattle, as perhaps you don't know, but you ought. You'll get accustomedto doing without your eight pounds after a bit, and never give itanother thought."
"Oh, no, that I won't," said Kitty, now jumping to her feet in herindignation; "and it is not for myself, it is for----"
"Oh, never mind who it is for. You want it, and you think the world isgoing to stand still because you cannot get it. Well, the world won'tstand still. I, who am quite used to doing without money, can assure youas to the truth of that fact. Would you like to know, now, how I spendmy days? I teach some horrid children in a small private school from tento one each morning, and then in the afternoon I go to a family andteach some more little brats; and I am scarcely paid anything for allthis toil--starvation wages I call it--and I hate it, hate it. But Ihave my consolations. I am not overparticular; very small pleasurescontent me; and there's a fellow whom I love."
"A fellow whom you love?" echoed Kitty; "is it a brother?"
"Bless you, I'm not likely to put myself out about a brother; not that Ihave one, and so much the better, thank goodness. There's a man whom Ilove, and a right jolly fellow he is--his name is Sam Raynes. He is notone of your fine, bread-and-butter gentlemen--not he. He is ro
ugh andready, and he has his joke, and he isn't too handsome, although somepeople admire red hair; but, anyhow, I'm fond of him and he's fond ofme, and some day--I don't know when--when we can scrape enoughtogether, we are going to set up housekeeping."
"You are going to marry; is that it?" said Kitty.
"Yes; some day we'll marry. Now, you see, that's a bit of fun for me;and I can go out with Sam on bank holidays and on Sunday afternoons justlike any other girl with her young man. Bless you, I don't mind."
"I wonder what all this is leading up to," said Kitty, with a slightyawn. "Of course, it is very interesting to you; but I don't care aboutyour young man."
"No more you do, you haughty little minx; and I wouldn't bother youabout him, for, with all his faults, he's too good to have words wastedabout him to a little independent chit of a thing like you. But, as Iwas saying, I'm not talking for nothing, I'm leading up to something.Now, I am content enough with our lot; but Elma isn't. Elma is quitedifferent from me--she has got a great deal of refinement about her."
"Has she indeed?" said Kitty in a voice of scorn.
"Yes, she has, and you needn't contradict me. She's a very clever girl,is Elma. I don't say that she's always as straight as a die--I don'tpretend that she is; but she is a clever girl, and she is fond of herbooks, and she's likely to get on--that is, if you don't spike herguns."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, well, it's only an expression of mine. I heard Sam use it lastweek. I often copy his phrases, they're so fine and full of flourish.Well, now, if you don't spoil sport, Elma will get into an altogetherdifferent circle from your humble servant. Mother and I will go one way,and Elma another. Elma, with her grand notions and her set-you-up sortof airs, will rise in life. She's heartily welcome to go her own way,and I wish her Godspeed, for she is the only sister I have got."
"I don't understand," interrupted Kitty.
"If you'll let me speak I'll soon explain. You don't suppose that girlssuch as I am are often to be seen at Middleton School?"
"Well, I have not seen any like you," said Kitty, gazing from head tofoot at her very peculiar visitor.
"No more you have, bless you; and I'm not the least offended by yourvery frank stare. Sam admires me, and that's enough for me. Now, Elmalooks a lady, doesn't she?"
"I suppose so," said Kitty in a dubious tone.
"You suppose so indeed! Let me tell you that Elma is a born little lady,a real lady, and she looks it, every inch of her. That is why she goesto Middleton School; but now, who do you think pay for her?"
"How can I tell?"
"Do you think mother, or father, or I? Now, who do you think does? Ishould be interested to know your thoughts."
"I cannot really tell you, Miss Lewis."
"Oh, it does sound fine to hear you Miss Lewising me. My name isCarrie."
"I prefer to call you Miss Lewis."
"Highty! tighty! we are haughty. Well, the person who pays for Elma isour Aunt Charlotte--a certain Mrs. Steward, wife of the Reverend JohnSteward, rector of St. Bartholomew's, Buckinghamshire. There's a grandenough name for you; and I suppose, being a clergyman, you'll considerthat he is a gentleman and that his wife is a lady. Aunt Charlottehappens to be own sister to mother; and when Elma made her littlecomplaint to her she took pity on her; and now she pays all her expensesat Middleton School. And if Elma does well and nothing disagreeablecomes to Aunt Charlotte's ears, she will send her presently to Newnhamor Girton. Think of that I Elma will be a college girl; she will be anundergraduate of one of the universities--and some day a graduate; andthen she will get a first-class post as high-school mistress, ormistress of something or other. But if you tell on her and make thingsbad, and the truth gets out--You look pale; are you ill?"
"I am all right," said Kitty. She staggered across the room and pouredsome water into a glass.
"I did not eat much lunch," she continued; "and I am--Never mind; goon."
"Well," continued Carrie, "if nothing comes to Aunt Charlotte's ears toturn her mind the other way, Elma will be all right; she will move inyour sphere--yes, she will, whether you like it or not. She is just soclever she is able to do anything. So I have come to say that I hope togoodness you won't split on her, for it would be mighty cruel of you.You would ruin her for life, and that would be a nice consolation foryou when you came to die. She did not steal your money, remember; yougave it to her."
"I lent it to her."
"Oh, how you will harp upon that! But you didn't tell her to a day whenshe was to pay it back again."
"No, I certainly did not; but, of course, I expected that she wouldreturn it to me when I asked for it; and then she spent it on dress."
"Spent it on dress? What do you mean?"
"She told me so."
"Oh, naughty, naughty little Elma!" said Carrie, shaking her forefingerin a very knowing manner "She didn't like to tell about Sam, and so shemade up that story, did she? Well, it was an untruth. She didn't spendthat money on dress; she--well, I will tell you--I stole it from her."
"You!" gasped Kitty, backing away in horror.
"Yes. Good gracious! how scared you are! You don't understand the larksof girls like me. I didn't mean any harm. I took it and gave it to Samto keep for her."
"Then," said Kitty, coming close up to Carrie, her lips parted, thecolor flooding her cheeks, her eyes full of light, "then, of course,you, Carrie----"
"Oh, I'm Carrie now, am I?"
"Yes, you are; but never mind. Then, you, Carrie, can get it back forme?"
"So I will, all in good time, my pretty little dear. You shall have themoney if you are willing to wait, say a month."
"There's no use at all in that," said Kitty, her voice sounding faintand far away.
"I am afraid there must be, as far as that eight pounds is concerned.The fact is, Sam is speculating with the money, and when we get it backit will be doubled. Elma and I will divide the profits between us, andyou shall have your eight pounds back. Now, I think I have told youeverything except--"
"And, having told me, I wish you would go away," said Kitty. "I don'tknow that you have bettered matters in any way. Of course I am sorry forElma; but it is only right that you should know something. It would bewell also for Elma to know the truth. I told her yesterday when I wentto your house that I would keep her secret until after morning school."
"Good gracious! You have not blurted out the truth?"
"Wait till you hear. When I was at school this morning I was--oh somiserable! I could not help thinking of--But never mind; you would notunderstand."
"No, no, of course not; pray proceed."
"I was thinking how soon I might tell."
"Nice sort of creature you are!"
"Why will you interrupt me?" said Kitty. "But then I looked at Elma, andI saw that she seemed very anxious and miserable; and wretched as I was,I made up my mind to be kind to her. I said to myself I will keep hersecret; and--and I wrote her a note to tell her so. You would notunderstand if I said any more; but--but immediately after morning schoolshe--she was false to me; utterly false. You ask her when you see herhow she received that letter I wrote to her at the risk of getting intoterrible trouble myself. I have been angry, furious, beside myself; andnow Miss Sherrard knows everything."
"You don't mean it?" said Carrie. Her florid face had turned perfectlywhite. She bit her lip and looked out of the window. After a time shelooked back again at Kitty, and said slowly:
"You are very cruel, and you have ruined Elma; but after all it ispartly my fault. I ought not to have taken that money. Now, look here,shall I tell you what I really came for to-day?"
"If you would do so quickly and then go."
"You won't be in such a hurry to part from me when you know the truth.Now, then, listen. You want some money; I think I see a way to gettingit for you."
"Do you really?"
"Yes, I do; that is, if you on your part will do what I want."
"I will do anything to get the money. I want to send it to Lau
rie if Ican this evening. There's nothing I would not give you."
"I will remember that small promise presently," said Carrie in a frankvoice. "But now let me tell you what my plan is. You have a great manyclothes, have you not?"
"Yes; but please don't bother me about them now. I was always fond ofpretty dress; but I should not care if I had to wear rags at the presentmoment if only I might get that eight pounds."
"If them's your sentiments," said Carrie, "you very soon can have yourwish."
"What in the world do you mean?"
"Why, this. If you'll just allow me to take the pick of your wardrobe Ican take away the things and sell them. I'll soon bring back the eightpounds--yes, and for that matter ten too."
"Sell my clothes?" said Kitty. She stared at the other girl as if shedid not believe the evidence of her own senses.
"Yes. Did you never hear of a pawnshop, you dear little wiseacre?"
"A pawnshop! Do you think I would allow my clothes to go to a pawnshop?"
"I know nothing whatever about it; but I make you the proposal. I willtransact the business for you if you'll allow me ten per cent, upon it.I can get you the money."
"Oh, Carrie, it seems such a bitter shame," said Kitty. Her face wascrimson; she went to the other side of the room, opened the window andput out her head. She wanted the cool air to soothe her scorched cheeks;her heart was thumping in her breast. Had matters indeed come to this,that she, Kitty Malone, was to pawn her pretty dresses, her trinkets,her whatnots! Alas! she could not do it.
"I have often had to do it," said Carrie. "I know just how to manage. Ifyou'll allow me to select the most suitable of your things, I'll bringyou back the money in no time."
"You are sure?" said Kitty, beginning to yield.
"Certain--sure--positive. But you must allow me ten per cent."
"I know nothing about percentage; but you may take every scrap that isover after you have got me the eight pounds."
"Very well, that's a liberal offer," said Carrie. "Now, then, I may aswell take a look at your clothes."
"Oh, it seems such an awful thing to do," said Kitty. "Are you sure,quite sure, that no one will find it out?"
"Not a bit of it; that is, if you'll be quick and not allow that othergirl--Alice, you call her--to come into the room."
"I'll lock the door," said Kitty. She rushed across the room with newhope, turned the key, and came back again to Carrie.
"I never heard of anything quite so extraordinary in my life," she said."And you--you call yourself a lady?"
"No, I don't; I call myself a good-natured lump of a girl."
"Well, perhaps you are; but to pawn one's things! Do you mean that Iwill never see them again?"
"Oh, yes; whenever you like to return the money. They'll be kept safeenough for you. If you don't return the money, of course, they belong tothe pawnbroker; but you have lots of time to think of that. Look here,I'll pawn them for a month; that will give you heaps of time to lookround."
"So it will," said Kitty. "And are you quite, quite certain that I shallhave the money to-night?"
"Oh, yes, if you won't talk so much, only act. Now, then, open yourwardrobe."
Kitty unlocked the door of the mahogany wardrobe which she shared withAlice, and Carrie began to pull her choice little garments about.
Kitty went and stood by the window.
"Don't you want to know what I am taking?" said Carrie. "Don't you wantto make a selection?"
"No; I'll leave it all to you. I can't bear to see them. Take--take whatyou want."
"Goodness, what a girl!" thought Carrie to herself. "Here's anopportunity for me."
She made a hasty and very wise selection, choosing the richest dresses,the most stylish jackets, skirts, shoes, ribbons, gloves--clipping thefeathers out of the hats and the flowers from the toques--throwing insome of the finest cambric handkerchiefs; and then, taking a sheet ofbrown paper which she had put into a basket on her arm when she lefthome, she folded the things into it and fastened her parcel with stoutstring.
"Here I am," she said; "and this is my parcel. I have looked throughyour wardrobe; your clothes are neat, fine, some of them gaudy, but allgood. I can get from three to four pounds for this lot."
"But why don't you take enough to get the eight pounds?" said Kitty, whohad quite made up her mind by this time.
"I could not carry any more. Now, then, open your jewel-case, quick."
"My jewel-case. Oh! I cannot part with my jewels."
"You must, if you want your eight pounds by to-night. I know mypawnbroker. He won't give five pounds for this little parcel. Now then,be quick. Oh, there I see Alice Denvers coming up the road with thatother fine young lady, Bessie Challoner. Where's your jewel-case?"
Kitty's face was like a sheet.
"I have not any jewels," she said; "or scarcely any worth mentioning. Ididn't bring any jewels with me. But here's my watch; will that do?"
"Do--rather! Why, it's a beauty. Don't say a word to the others; keepyour own counsel. Now, then, I'll be off to the pawnshop, and you shallhave the money to-night. _Au revoir! an revoir!_"