"It's Mary's going," mother answered. "She hasn't been right ever since."
"Well, but that wouldn't make her cry like this, all in a moment," says father. "What is it, Kitty? Eh, dear? Don't you feel well?—or anything gone wrong?"
"Come, cheer up, Kitty," Mr. Armstrong said. "You'll see Mary again soon, I don't doubt. Come, where is the pretty watch you were going to show us?" I suppose he thought that would take my thoughts off my trouble, whatever it was.
"Yes, where's the watch, Kitty?" says father.
I managed to get out— "It—it—isn't there!" and cried harder than before. The crying wasn't put on; for I did feel it to be dreadful that I should deceive them all like this.
"Not there! You don't mean to say the watch is gone!" father exclaimed.
"Kitty, you must tell us plainly. Is the watch gone? Cannot you find it?" Mr. Armstrong asked gravely.
"No," I sobbed.
"Where did you look? In the place where you always keep it? Anywhere else?" father asked.
"I know where Kitty keeps it. I'll go and look," mother said.