Aldyth hesitated. The sleet had long ceased, and the sun was making attempts to break forth. The prospect of skimming over the ice was very tempting.
"I was going to see Hilda," she said. "How is it she is not with you?"
"Oh, Hilda is good for nothing," replied Kitty. "She will not stir out to-day."
"Do you mean that she is ill?" asked Aldyth.
"Well, no, not exactly—she has a headache," said Kitty.
Gwen moved on a few paces; it was not pleasant to stand in the keen wind.
"The fact is, Aldyth," said Kitty, hurriedly, in lower tones, "Hilda has been crying till she is worn out. Your uncle came to see mother yesterday afternoon, and made a grand commotion. I never saw mother so upset. You know she does not often get put out, but when she is angry, she can be very warm, and I can tell you mother was angry with Hilda last evening."
"With Hilda!" said Aldyth, in surprise. "Why, what has Hilda done?"
"Oh, do not ask me," said Kitty; "you had better hear the story from her own lips. I must say I am disgusted with Hilda. Do try, Aldyth, to put a little common sense into her, if you see her. But won't you get your skates and come with us?"
"I think not, thank you," said Aldyth. "I had better go to Hilda, if she is in trouble. I suppose she would like to see me?"