Wild Kitty

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE LITTLE HOUSE IN CONSTANTINE ROAD.

  Kitty stared at her companion for a moment, then she put her hand intoher pocket and took out a very fat sealskin purse. She opened it andheld it out to Elma.

  "Help yourself," she said.

  Elma looked into the purse--golden sovereigns lay there in deliciousrows. There must have been at least fifteen sovereigns in the purse.

  "Take as many as you like," said Kitty; "you are heartily welcome."

  "You don't mean it; you can't," replied Elma, turning very pale.

  "Why, what are you hesitating about? You said you wanted some money.Dear heart alive! everybody wants money in Ireland, we are alwaysborrowing one from the other. Take as many of those yellow boys as youfancy, and say no more about it."

  "I am obliged to you, Kitty," said Elma. "I think you are quitesplendid; but can I--do you really mean it--can I take five?"

  "Five, bless you! Take them all if you want them. I have only to writeto the dear old man at home, and ask him to send me a fiver or a tenner,and he'll do it. You need have no qualms, and----"

  "But when must I give them back?"

  "Whenever you like."

  "You don't really require them on Monday, do you?"

  "I don't require them at any special date. Pay me when it is convenient.Here, you may as well have ten."

  "I could not; it is too much," said Elma. She put her hands behind herback, her teeth were chattering, and she was trembling all over. She wasafraid that Kitty must read her through and through.

  "Oh, what is the use of bothering?" cried Kitty Malone. "If you won'ttake ten, take eight. Let me see, that leaves me seven over. Sevensovereigns. I don't ever want to spend any money here. Of course I mayrequire a new dress when the fashions change. I must keep strictly up todate now that I have joined the Tug-of-war; but in case I do, I'll justsend a wire to Aunt Bridget in Dublin and she'll send me over a beauty.Ah, she's a dear old soul, Aunt Bridget is. There, Elma, do take themoney and be quick about it."

  Elma--feeling sick and low, hating herself as she had never hatedherself before--dipped her greedy fingers into Kitty's sealskin purse,and soon extracted eight of the golden sovereigns. These she slippedinto her pocket.

  "I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you," she said.

  "Not another word!" cried Kitty. "I have forgotten all about it already.Now shall we have a run? I want to catch up to Bessie; I have not had aword with her for the whole of the day."

  Elma no longer required to keep Kitty Malone in the background. She hadnow gained her object. Hoping against hope to extract from half asovereign to fifteen shillings from the generous-hearted Irish girl, shesuddenly found herself the lucky possessor of eight whole sovereigns.Never in the whole course of her life had Elma possessed anythingapproaching such a sum. Her mother was very poor. She had only onesister, a daily governess. All Elma's people were hard up, as theexpression goes, and Elma herself only attended Middleton School becausean aunt paid her school fees. Hardly ever could the girl secure evenhalf a crown for her own pleasure. She hated poverty, she detested thesmall privations which slender means involved. She was in no sense ofthe word a high, refined character; on the contrary, there was somethingsmall in her nature, something little about her. She had ever cringed tothe wealthy. She had made friends with Gwin Harley, who was rich,high-spirited, and generous, but also very conscientious, and withabundance of common sense. A glance had told Elma that she could neverask Gwin to lend her money; but Kitty--innocent, frank, generousKitty--had proved an all too easy prey.

  At that moment Elma despised Kitty as much as she was grateful to her.The eight pounds, which she might return whenever she liked, lay lightlyin her pocket; she almost danced in her excitement and sense of triumph.Of course Kitty would never tell--that went without saying; and in themeantime she was rich beyond her wildest dreams. The girls had joinedforces when they came up to the stream which led across a wide fieldcalled the Willow Meadow. Kitty linked her hand inside Bessie's arm, andElma and Alice walked side by side.

  "Well," exclaimed Alice, "how did you get on with her, Elma?"

  "With whom?" asked Elma.

  "Oh, need you ask? That detestable Kitty Malone. I saw you sucking up toher, and wondered why."

  "I wish you would not use such horrid, vulgar words, Alice," said Elma."You know you are really breaking the rules of the Tug-of-war. We arerequested not to make use of slang."

  "I forgot," said Alice. "But if it comes to that," she continued, "Ibelieve I shall have to leave the society if I can never express myfeelings with regard to Kitty Malone."

  "But do you really dislike her as much as ever?" asked Elma, who, shabbyand mean as she was, in her poor little soul could scarcely bringherself to run down generous Kitty just then.

  "Dislike her!" cried Alice. "I hate her--there! I suppose that's flatand plain enough."

  "It certainly is."

  "But you don't mean to say--it is impossible, Elma--that you seeanything to like in her?"

  "Well, of course," answered Elma--who wished to propitiate Alice, forher nature was to be all things to all men--"I can see at a glance thatshe is not your style; she has not got your cleverness and refinement,dear Alice."

  "Oh, bother!" cried Alice. But all the same she was pleased, and whenElma tucked her small hand inside of her arm Alice did not shake heroff.

  "Any one can see that," continued Elma Lewis; "but I don't think she isquite so bad as you paint her, Alice."

  Alice's private opinion of Elma was that she was a little toad, and shenow managed to extricate herself from the smaller girl's clasp.

  "I shall never like her," she said. "There is no good in your praisingher to me. If you mean to be her friend you must do so from a doublemotive."

  "How uncharitable of you!" cried Elma, coloring crimson as she spoke.

  "Oh, I can guess it very well, my dear," pursued Alice. "But for you shewould not be a member of the Tug-of-war. What would have been adelightful society, a pleasure to the best girls at Middleton School,will be nothing whatever but a ridiculous farce, a scene of high comedy,something contemptible, now that Kitty Malone has joined it. But for youshe would never have been asked to join. Why did you do it, Elma?"

  "For no reason in particular," answered Elma.

  "That is certainly not true, and you know it."

  "I cannot think why you speak to me in that tone," said Elma. "What haveI done to you that you should think so badly of me?"

  "Oh, I don't think badly of you, Elma, not specially; but I have alwaysseen that whatever you did, you did with a reason. In your own way youare clever, you are extremely worldly wise. There are certain people whowould commend you; but you are not like the rest of us. You are not likeGwin for instance, nor like Bessie, nor like me. Yes, I will frankly sayso, I am better than you, Elma. I have not got your double motives foreverything. You are only a girl now; I don't know what you will be whenyou are a woman!"

  The thought of the eight sovereigns so comfortably reposing in herpocket made Elma able to bear this very direct attack. She determined totake it good-humoredly; there was no use whatever in quarreling withAlice. Accordingly she said cheerfully:

  "You may think what you like of me, Ally, but I hope in the course ofyears that you will find I am not so bad as you paint me."

  Shortly afterward the girls parted, and each went on her way to herspecial home. Bessie ran briskly up the short avenue which led to herhouse, waving farewells to her companions as she did so. Alice and Kittywere obliged to content themselves one with the other; and Elma, in thehighest good-humor, her heart bubbling over with bliss, departed in thedirection of her own humbler residence. She had to walk quite a mile anda half, and at the end of that time she found herself in a much poorerpart of the large suburb where Middleton School was situated. The houseshere were of a humble description--not even semidetached, but standingin long, dismal rows, a good many of them backing on to arailway-cutting. These houses bo
asted of no small gardens, but ran flushwith the road. They were built of the universal yellow brick, and wereabout as ugly as they could well be.

  Elma paused at No. 124 Constantine Road. As she did so, a high, rasping,and fretful voice screamed to her from an upper window:

  "You are later than ever to-day, Elma, and mother has been frettingherself into hysterics. Do come in at once and be quick about it."

  Elma mounted the two or three steps which led to the hall door, andpulled the bell with considerably more energy than was her wont. Thesovereigns were in her pocket; they made all the difference to herbetween misery and happiness. She entered the house in high good-humor.

  "What is it, Carrie?" she called to the fretful voice, which was nowapproaching nearer.

  The next moment a slatternly-looking girl appeared at the head of thestairs.

  "It's very easy for you to ask what is it," cried its owner, speaking inhigh dudgeon. "You promised to be in between five and six, and it is nowbetween seven and eight. Here is all my chance of an evening's funknocked on the head. It's just like you, Elma; that it is."

  "Oh, never mind now; please don't scold me," said Elma. "What isit--about mother; has she been bad again?"

  "Oh, it's the usual thing; she has had one of those dismal letters fromfather. I can't imagine why she thinks anything about them. It came justwhen we were all sitting down to dinner, and she began to cry in thatfeeble sort of fashion."

  "Oh, don't, Carrie; she will hear you," said Elma. "Pray go back to yourroom, and I'll be with you in a minute. I have something to tell you.You won't be quite so miserable when you hear my news."

  Carrie stared at Elma, and then slowly backed until she reached a veryminute bedroom which she and Elma shared together.

  Elma ran briskly upstairs. Turning to her right, she knocked at acertain door; waited for an answer, but none came; then turned thehandle and went in. The Venetian blinds were down here, and the form ofa woman was seen lying in the center of a big bed.

  "Is that you, Elma?" said a voice; and then the head was buried oncemore in the pillows, and no further notice whatever was taken.

  "Yes, mother, I am here," answered Elma. "I was thinking you might likesomething nice for your supper--a crab or a lobster, or something ofthat sort. Which would be your preference, mother?"

  "A crab or a lobster!" muttered Mrs. Lewis. "You might as well ask me ifI should like a bottle of champagne, or some caviare. One is about aslikely to be forthcoming as the other."

  "I tell you you may choose," said Elma. "I have my hat still on, andI'll go as far as the fishmonger's, and bring in either a lobster or acrab."

  Mrs. Lewis raised herself on her elbow as Elma spoke.

  "What are you dreaming about?" she said. "Where have you got the money?"

  "Never mind. I have got the money. Which Would be your preference?"

  "Oh, crab, dear; crab. I like it when it's well dressed; but then Maggienever can do anything properly."

  "I'll dress it on this occasion," said Elma. "You shall have a goodsupper--crab and salad, and--There mother, do keep up heart again; yougive way too much."

  "Ah, child," said poor Mrs. Lewis, "I have had another terrible letter.He says he is starving; he cannot get work. I made the greatest possiblemistake in allowing him to leave the country."

  "You could do nothing else," said Elma, with a little stamp of her foot."You know he would not help you in any way; he had to leave. But there,mother, you shall tell me the dismal news after tea. You will feel everso much better when you have partaken of the dainty meal I mean to getfor you."

  Mrs. Lewis did not say anything further. Elma bent down, touched herparent on her brow with the lightest possible caress, and then steppedon tiptoe out of the room.

  "Poor mother!" she muttered. "It is surprising the kind of things thatcomfort one; she is soothed at the thought of crab for supper withsalad. Well, that is all right; she will be as amiable and petting to meas possible for the rest of the day. Now, then, for Carrie. A loose,untidy, badly, hung together girl like Carrie is a trial to any sister.However, I know the sort of thing that pleases her. I must be verycareful of my treasure-trove. I shall not spend it lightly; but ingiving my family small unexpected surprises it will be doing me animmensely good turn."

  Elma now entered the room where Carrie was fuming up and down.

  "Well, what have you to say for yourself, miss?" she cried, when heryounger sister put in an appearance.

  "Only that I am very sorry, Carrie; but to be honest with you, I quiteforgot that you wanted to go out this afternoon. Did I not tell youthat I was engaged to tea at Gwin Harley's?"

  "You are forever with that odious girl," said Carrie.

  "Gwin Harley an odious girl! What in the world do you mean?"

  "What I say. Oh, of course I have seen her, and I know she's pretty, orsome people would think her so; in my opinion she's vastly too stuck up;and so Sam Raynes says. Sam saw her last Sunday in church, and he saidshe wasn't a bit his style."

  "Oh, pray, don't quote Sam Raynes to me," said Elma. "Well, Carrie, ofcourse I had tea with Gwin, and of course she's about the nicest girl inthe world; and Kitty Malone was there, that scamp of an Irish girl. Oh,she's not so bad when you get to know her better. And Alice Denvers wasthere, and Bessie Challoner. We had quite a nice time. Of course I toldyou about that society that I have joined. Well, there are about tengirls members now, quite the elite of the school. I believe we shall doa vast lot of good."

  "What does it matter to me," said Carrie, stamping her foot. "I havelost my pleasant afternoon with Sam. He and his sister promised to meetme. I was to go with them to the Crystal Palace. Oh, it's tooprovoking."

  Carrie still fumed up and down the room.

  "And I have such a dull time," she continued; "those children are quitepast bearing. They wear the very life out of me. See what that littleimp of a Claude did to my dress this afternoon."

  As Carrie spoke she held up a decidedly shabby dress, which bore a hugerent at one side.

  "He caught it in his nasty little boot," said the girl. "He wasscrambling up on my knee, and made such a fuss, and there happened to bea tiny hole, and then he wriggled and wriggled, and made it worse andworse. The skirt is not fit to wear. I don't know what I shall do. Ireally have not a blessed farthing to buy myself another new thing."

  Elma made a careful calculation.

  "How much was that stuff a yard?" she asked suddenly.

  "What does it matter, Elma? It's worn out now, and there's an end of it.You cannot buy me another gown; so where's the good of talking."

  "But perhaps I can," said Elma dubiously.

  "My dear Elma what do you mean?"

  "Well, I am not quite certain, of course," said Elma; "and it would haveto be very cheap--very cheap indeed. But what color would you like,Carrie?"

  "Oh, blue," said Carrie, "rather light in shade. I love blue; and Samsays I look sweet in it."

  "If you begin to quote Sam again I don't think I'll give you sixpencefor anything. You know perfectly well that I loathe and detest him."

  "Oh, that's your way," said Carrie. "You think it is very fine to detestall the young men in our set; but I tell you Sam is a right good fellow,and he has his ideas as much as anybody. He is going to get a raise,too, at Christmas, and--"

  "Are you engaged to him, Carrie?" asked Elma suddenly.

  "Not yet. Oh, we don't think of any such thing; but I like to go withhim. He is great fun, and so is Florrie. Florrie doesn't mind a bit howoften she acts gooseberry."

  Elma went and stood by the window. She looked gloomily out. How shabbyand sordid her home was; how miserable everything seemed! Carrie wasreally a trial to any sister. Elma wondered if in the future she wouldhave to tolerate Sam Raynes as her brother-in-law. A sick feeling creptover her. She was not a particularly refined girl; but in her schoollife she associated with girls of a totally different caliber from poorCarrie, and a shudder ran through her frame as she thought over hersister.
r />   "If you mean anything by that talk about a new frock, you had betterspeak out plainly," said Carrie. "If you can really give me money to getthe stuff, something pretty and cheap, I could buy it to-night; there isstill plenty of time."

  "Put on your hat and we'll go out at once," said Elma.

  Carrie rushed to her wardrobe, took down her frowzy, over-trimmed hat,stuck it on her towzled head, drew a pair of gloves up her arms, andannounced herself ready. The two girls ran briskly downstairs. Mrs.Lewis called from her bedroom after them:

  "Where are you two going?" she said. "Am I to be left alone in thehouse?"

  "No, Maggie is in the kitchen," called out Carrie.

  "Oh, I am sick of being by myself, and I want my supper."

  "I must go out to choose the crab, mother," said Elma.

  "Oh, the crab," replied Mrs. Lewis in a mollified tone. "If you aregoing really to get one, Elma, be sure you see that it has plenty ofcoral in it, and choose nice, crisp lettuce. I care nothing for crabwithout lettuce."

  "All right mother; I'll manage," said Elma.

  The girls found themselves in the street.

  "So you are going to get mother crab and lettuce for supper," criedCarrie. "Then I suppose after all you don't mean to give me money to buystuff for a new dress?"

  "Yes, I do, Carrie, if you'll only have patience. I said I would, andthere's an end of it."

  "But how have you got the money?"

  "Never you mind; I have got it."

  Carrie walked on, her spirits rose, and she began to talk in her highstaccato voice, allowing each person who passed to hear what she wassaying.

  "This is Thursday," she said. "I shall get up at daylight to-morrowmorning, and I shall cut out the dress and put it in hand. I am alwayshome between four and five in the afternoon, so I can work at it againuntil late at night. Then on Saturday, thank goodness! there's a wholeholiday. Oh, I shall manage to get it done by the evening, and Sam and Ican have a jolly time together in the park on Sunday."

  "We will buy the crab first," said Elma, "and then we can call atMacpherson's on our way home."

  "They have sweet things at Macpherson's," said Carrie. "You really are avery good-natured old thing, Elma."

  "I am glad you think so," said Elma, her lips parted in a slightlysatirical smile.

  Carrie, now beaming all over with good-humor, assisted in the choosingof the crab; she further volunteered to carry this luxury home, andsuggested that radishes would be a great addition to the lettuce.

  "Is there anything else you think mother would like?" asked Elma.

  "Oh, a bottle of really good Guinness' stout," said Carrie.

  "Capital, Carrie! Why, you are getting quite a head for housekeeping.We'll give mother such a good supper, and it will do her a world ofgood."

  "Poor old dear, so it will," said jubilant Carrie.

  Having purchased the materials for an appetizing meal, the girls nowentered a large establishment which, being supported by people ofextremely slender means, could only afford to indulge in the cheapestarticles. Carrie desired the shopman to exhibit cheap materials indifferent shades of blue. She finally selected one, turquoise in color,and wonderfully pretty, which cost the large sum of sevenpencethree-farthings per yard. She ordered the required length to be cut, andElma took out her purse to pay for it.

  She did not at all want her sister to see how many sovereigns that pursecontained, and turned her back slightly as she laid one on the counter.

  "Well, how you got it baffles me!" cried Carrie.

  "Pray, don't speak so loud," said Elma; "they really will think that Istole it if you go on giving me those sort of staccato rises of youreyebrows. It's all the better for you; that sovereign has got you a newdress."

  "So it has, and you are an old darling," said Carrie. "I'll tell Samall about you on Sunday, Elma. By the way, what a good idea; wouldn'tyou like to come with us? There's Sam's cousin, Maurice, a capitalfellow--Maurice Jones."

  "Oh, no; don't speak of him," said Elma. She gave a shudder, and turnedher head aside.

  The materials for the dress were purchased, even down to the linings andbuttons; and Carrie, holding her parcel tucked comfortably under herarm, started home, Elma accompanying her. Carrie was so excited anddelighted with her dress that she had no time even to think of thewonderful problem as to how Elma had got the money.

  When they reached the house Elma ran into the kitchen and prepared todress the crab. She did so well, and when the dainty little meal wasupon the table, ran upstairs to bring her mother down.

  "Now, mother, get up at once," she said.

  "Get up. Oh. I can't," said Mrs. Lewis; "I have got such a splittingheadache."

  "But the crab is downstairs, and I have dressed it myself, just in theway you like best. I have brought in a little cayenne pepper, too, for Iknow you don't care for crab without it; and the lettuce is wonderfullycrisp and fresh, and there are some radishes. Oh, and Carrie reminded methat you would not care for crab without your stout."

  "I know," said Mrs. Lewis in a plaintive voice; "your father would neverallow me to touch crab or lobster without stout. Ah, but those good olddays are gone!"

  "Not quite mother, for there is a bottle of Guinness's waiting at yourdisposal."

  "Oh, is there?" said Mrs. Lewis. She raised herself on her elbow. "ThenI think I'll go down," she said.

  "Well, make yourself smart, mother. I shall be waiting for you, and sowill Carrie."