“I must run up at once to see how Pip is,” cried Kitty. “I have been thinking of the darling all the time I have been coming home. I wonder if he is better. Do not keep me, please, Nan. I won’t be a minute, but I want just to see how he is.”
She was dashing out of the room when Nan’s voice came faintly—very faintly—on the air:
“Kitty, one minute first!”
“Little fool!” said Augusta. She bent down close to the child and laid her hand across her mouth.
Nobody else had heard Nan’s low tones. Nora followed Kitty out of the room; she also ran upstairs to see the sick rat.
“You are too late now,” said Augusta. “Just keep your own counsel. Pretend that your foot is aching; that will account for your queer looks. And, by-the-bye, I let Mrs. Richmond understand that you had slipped on the stairs and strained your foot, and you must stick to the story when she asks you about it. Now then, just keep your courage, hold your tongue, and all will be well.”
There came a piercing cry from poor Kitty, who rushed into the room, her face white, and tears in her big eyes.
“Pip is dead!” she said.
She flung herself into a chair, panting slightly. It was not her nature to cry, and she did not cry now; but her face looked white and startled. Augusta gave her a quick look. Nan shivered all over with sympathy for Kitty and longing to speak; but Augusta’s eyes met hers, and there was such a world of warning and determination in their glance that she succumbed.
“Why, what is the matter,” said Miss Roy, who at that moment entered the room. “What a tragic group! Nan looking as though the world were coming to an end, and Kitty—— Why, my darling, what is wrong?”