"What did you spend it on? Dress?"
"Oh, in different ways." Elma had made up her mind not to tell about
Carrie and Sam Raynes.
"I'll let her think that I spent the money on finery," she said to herself. "She is sympathizing about dress. I'll let her think that."
Kitty's hands had dropped to her sides; a look of despair filled her face.
"What is to be done?" she said. "I never thought for a moment you could not let me have it back."
"You shall have it in a week; that I promise you faithfully."
"But a week will be no good, Elma. Oh! Elma, Elma, Laurie will suffer for this. They will take his freedom from him; he will be like a chained lion; he will lose his spirit; perhaps—perhaps he will die. I cannot stand it, Elma, I cannot."
Kitty covered her face with both her hands, and the tears which with difficulty she had been keeping back all the evening burst forth in torrents. Kitty did not cry as an English girl might. She cried with the wild, passionate sobs of those who have seldom exercised self-control. Elma was dreadfully frightened.
"Do stop, Kitty," she said. "You make so much noise; mother and Carrie will hear you. Carrie will come down."
"What if she does?" cried Kitty. "Oh, Laurie, Laurie! this will break your heart. You are ruined; ruined for life!"