"How much did you say?" asked Kitty, putting her hand up to her forehead in a distracted way.
"Ten pounds seven and twopence. You only really wanted eight pounds, did you not?"
"I had a little money of my own, and eight pounds would have done," said
Kitty in a low voice; "but——"
Here she sprang forward and gripped Carrie by the arm. "What does it mean, Carrie—what does it mean? Elma never came near me; I never, never saw her last night."
"You never saw her? Elma never went to you?"
"No, never. Do you think I would tell an untruth? I never saw her, not since early school yesterday. Oh, Carrie, tell me what it means?"
"I cannot. I must say it looks very queer," said Carrie. She frowned, turned her back partly upon Kitty, and supporting her fat chin on one of her dimpled hands, began to think deeply. The more she thought the less she liked the aspect of affairs.
"Carrie, what does it mean?" cried Kitty, reiterating her words in a kind of frenzy of agitation.
"Oh, stop talking to me for a minute, Kitty! I must think this out."
Carrie walked to the window, pulled up the blinds, threw the sash up, and allowed the fresh morning air to blow upon her hot face. After a time she turned round and faced Kitty.