Kitty Trenire Part 17

She remembered suddenly that Anna had not been with them all the evening; that she had left the schoolroom soon after they had begun their work, and had not returned.

"Oh, where was she? What had she been doing? Where had she been?"

Kitty was in a fever of alarm, and could barely conceal her dismay.

"Well," said Dr. Trenire, "that will do, dear. I shall write to Miss Richards at once, and tell her that you absolutely deny any knowledge of or part in the matter, and that you have given me your word that you have not left the house since you returned from school at four-thirty.

That should settle the matter as far as you are concerned."

"Yes," said poor trusting Kitty, "that must set it all right for me, of course." It did not occur to her then that any one could refuse to accept her word; and with no further fears for herself, she hurried away in search of Anna.

First she went to her bedroom, but a glance showed her that no one was there; and as it never occurred to Kitty to look under the bed, she did not see a pair of shoes covered with wet mud, and a splashed skirt and cloak. All, to her, looked neat and orderly, and with puzzled sigh she went thoughtfully down to the schoolroom again. If Anna had not been in her bedroom all the evening, where had she been? she thought anxiously.

And when, a second later, she opened the schoolroom door and saw Anna sitting at the table facing her, her books spread out before her, her head bent low over them, she really wondered for the moment whether she was mad or dreaming. Betty was in her big chair, just as she had left her, her book in her hand, but she was glancing beyond it at Anna more than at the pages, and her face was full of grave perplexity.

"Anna has such a cough," she said, when Kitty appeared, "and she can't breathe, and her face is so red. I'm sure she has got a bad cold."

Anna was certainly very flushed, and she held her handkerchief up to her face a good deal.

"Have you a cold?" asked Kitty. She could not control her feelings sufficiently to speak quite naturally, and her voice sounded unsympathetic. She was vexed, and puzzled, and full of fears as to what might be to come. She could not help feeling in her heart a strong distrust of Anna, yet she felt sorry for her, and dreaded what might be in store for her.

"No--at least I don't think so. Perhaps I have, though. I don't feel well," she stammered. She spoke confusedly, and did not look at Kitty.

"I should think you had better go to bed and have some hot milk," said Betty in her serious, old-fas.h.i.+oned way.

"Oh no. I am all right, thank you," said Anna, shrinking from the thought of her mother's visits to her room, and her searching inquiries as to how she could possibly have got a cold. "Do be quiet, Betty, and let me do my work. You know it is nearly bedtime."

"Well, you haven't seemed in a hurry till now," said Betty sharply.

"You haven't been learning your lessons in your room, because I saw your bag and your books on your bed just now, and you hadn't touched them then."

"I do wish people wouldn't always be prying after me," said Anna angrily, and this time it was Kitty who looked guilty.

Supper was a very silent meal that night, and soon after it the three went to bed, scarcely another word having been spoken.

Kitty and Betty had been in bed an hour perhaps, and Betty was fast asleep, when Kitty, restless and sleepless with the new trouble she had on her mind, was surprised by the gentle opening of the door of the room. Half alarmed, she rose up in bed, peering anxiously through the gloom. Then--"O Anna!" she cried, "what is the matter? Are you ill?"

"No--o, I don't think I am, but I--I am sure I shall be. O Kitty, I am in _such_ trouble. I _must_ tell some one."

"I think I know what it is," said Kitty gently.

"Oh no, you don't," groaned Anna. "You can't. It is worse than copying my sums, or--or cribbing, or anything."

"I know," said Kitty again.

But Anna did not hear her. She was looking at Betty. "Come to my room, do!" she said. "Betty may wake up, and I don't want her to hear."

"Very well," said Kitty, slipping out of bed and into her dressing-gown.

"I expect, though, she will have to know. It is bound to reach all the girls. I only wish it wasn't."

Anna, creeping back to her room, did not answer till she got there.

Then she turned round sharply. "What do you mean? Know what?" she demanded.

Kitty looked surprised. "Why, about Lettice and--and you, and those letters, of course."

Anna dropped on to a chair, her face chalk-white, her eyes starting.

"Lettice and--and--and me--and--who told--what do you mean? I don't understand."

"Anna, don't!" cried Kitty, ashamed and distressed. "Don't try to pretend. There is no mistake, and every one must know soon about Lettice. Whoever it was who nearly caught you made a mistake, for she thought it was me, and Miss Richards wrote to father accusing me, but, of course--"

"Accusing you!" cried Anna in astonishment. But her voice had changed.

It was less full of terror than it had been. For a moment after Kitty ceased speaking she sat lost in thought.

"Of course father does not believe it, and he has written to tell Miss Richards so, and that I was at home all the evening, so there would have to be an inquiry of course, to try and find out which of the other girls it was, and everybody would have to know all about it; but now, when you tell Miss Richards that it was you, it needn't go any farther.

Of course there will be a row, and probably you and Lettice will be punished, but no one else need ever hear anything more about it."

"Oh, but I couldn't!" cried Anna. She was so intensely relieved to find that, as yet, she was not suspected, that much of her courage and boldness came back. "And, of course, I shouldn't, unless they asked me, and--and for mother's sake it would be very foolish to--to get myself into a sc.r.a.pe when I needn't."

"But--but, Anna"--Anna's speech left Kitty almost voiceless--"it is--it is so dishonourable, so dishonest, so--"

"No, it isn't," snapped Anna crossly. She bitterly regretted now that she had taken Kitty into her confidence. She had done it in a moment of panic when she felt that detection was certain, and she must get help from somewhere. As soon as she knew that she was not suspected her courage and hopes had rallied. "You need not mind; you will be cleared; and they can't find and punish any one else, for there is no one else to find, so it can't do any one any harm."

"There is Lettice," said Kitty coldly. "You know you can't trust her, and if she tells, things will look ever so much worse for you than--"

"I don't think Lettice will tell," interrupted Anna meaningly.

"She knows that if she tells tales I can tell some too."

"You count on other people having some honour, though you have none yourself," said Kitty scathingly, and she turned away, choking with disgust. Anna made her feel positively ill. When she got to the door she stood and looked back. Her face was very white and stern, her eyes full of a burning contempt. "I do think, Anna," she said slowly and scornfully, "that you are the meanest, most dishonourable girl I ever heard of in all my life. You are going to leave all the girls in the school under suspicion because you haven't the honesty or courage to own up."

"It isn't anything to do with honesty," muttered Anna, very white and angry and sullen. "You have no right to say such things, Kitty. If you didn't do it, it can't do you any harm; and if no one suspects me, it isn't likely that I shall make them. I shan't be telling a story.

I simply shan't say anything."

"I see no difference between telling a lie and acting one," flashed Kitty, and she walked back to her own room without another word.

She had not been there long, though, before Anna came creeping in again.

"Kitty," she said anxiously, "you won't tell any one, will you, even if you are mad with me? You know I never _said_ I--I--you accused me, but I didn't say--"

"I am not a sneak," said Kitty coldly. "Now go away. Go out of my room. I don't like to see you near Betty. Go away, do you hear!" and Anna vanished again into the darkness.

Though strong and secure in her own innocence, Kitty awoke in the morning with the feeling weighing heavily on her that though the matter would soon be ended, yet something very painful had to be faced first.

Kitty, though, was counting too much on her own guiltlessness, and the certainty of others believing in it; and she had more cause than she imagined for waking with a weight on her mind.

When the dreaded inquiry took place, and all the senior girls were called into the "study" to undergo a rigorous cross-examination, she soon found that Miss Richards was very far from accepting her unsupported denial as conclusive.

"Yes, but who can bear out your statement that you did not leave the room or the house throughout the evening?" she asked sternly.

"Betty can," said Kitty. "Betty was in the room with me all the time."

"Ah! Betty! But she is very young, and very attached to you, and would of course be prejudiced."

Kitty's cheeks flamed with indignation, and she had to set her teeth to keep herself from answering.

"Have you no older--more responsible witnesses?"