Mrs. Fleming put her hand on the girl’s arm to restrain her.
“What was the name of the young lady you have come to me about?” she asked, turning to the dressmaker.
“Oh ma’am, Miss Kitty Merrydew, the sweetest, prettiest young lady I ever ’ad the pleasure of working for; she’d grace any style, ma’am. I never saw ’er in such a state as she was in to-night.”
“You are very kind to let me know,” said Mrs. Fleming. “How much money did you lend the young lady? I will return it to you.”
“Oh ma’am, thank you, no; it was ’er own money.”
“Very well. Good-evening.”
The dressmaker departed. After a time Mrs. Fleming turned to Peggy. Peggy had flung herself on her knees and had buried her face on an ottoman.
“Peggy, child, what’s wrong?”
“I did it!” said Peggy. “I did it!”
“You, my dear child! You did what?”