Read Wild Kitty Page 18


  CHAPTER XVIII.

  "I CANNOT HELP YOU."

  Elma scarcely slept that night. At an early hour on the followingbrilliant summer's morning she stole softly out of bed, glanced for amoment at Carrie, as she lay sleeping the sleep of the just, with hertowzled hair tossed about the pillow, and then, getting deftly into herown clothes, left the room without arousing the sleeper. She had made upher mind very definitely what to do. Without even waiting to get anybreakfast, she unfastened the hall door, opened it, and stepped out intothe full radiance of the summer's morning. A quick walk brought her in alittle over half an hour to Harley Grove. When she went up the ponderousflight of steps which led to the principal door of the mansion a clockfar away struck the hour of seven.

  "It is terribly early," she said to herself, "terribly early to disturbher; but it is my only chance. I must have time; I cannot rush thisthing. If she can help me I believe she will; and anyhow, I do no harmby what I intend to say to her."

  Elma rang the bell, but her early summons was not immediately attendedto. Presently a servant girl, who looked as if she might be one of theunder-housemaids, unbolted and unbarred the door, and opened it a fewinches. "When she saw a neat-looking girl, in all probability aschoolgirl, standing outside she opened it a little further and her jawdropped in some astonishment.

  "I have come here," said Elma to know if I can see, Miss Harleyimmediately on very special business."

  "I don't know, miss, I am sure," answered the girl, who was a strangerin those parts. "I can't say that you can see Miss Harley now, for Ithink she is fast asleep and in bed, miss."

  "It is of the utmost importance or I would not disturb her," said Elma."I have brought a note with me; can you manage in some way to have itdelivered to her? I can wait downstairs in any of the rooms until I gether answer."

  As Elma spoke she slipped a little three-cornered note into the girl'shand, at the same time placing in it one of her own most valuable andvery few and far between shillings.

  "Can you manage it for me?" she said. "It is really of the utmostimportance."

  A shilling was a small bribe; but the housemaid was young andtender-hearted. She looked again once or twice at Elma, who could wear amost pleasing expression when she chose, and then, ushering her into asmall room to the left of the wide entrance hall, departed slowlyupstairs on her errand.

  While she was away Elma fidgeted, walking from end to end of the littleroom into which she had been admitted. All depended, or so she imagined,on her note reaching its destination. She knew Gwin's kind heart; shewas certain that if Gwin received the note, however tired and sleepyshe was, she would at least see her for a few minutes. Elma had wordedit craftily.

  "I am in great trouble," she had written. "It is connected with KittyMalone. I see my way to helping Kitty if you, Gwin, can help me. But Imust see you now at once. Let me come to your bedroom. I would notdisturb you if it were not a matter of life or death."

  This note, sufficiently startling in its contents, was given by theunder-housemaid to Gwin's own special maid. The girl, after somedeliberation, said she would venture to give it to Gwin, early as thehour was. Accordingly she stole into the shaded bedroom, drew up one ofthe blinds, and when Gwin opened her sleepy eyes presented her with thelittle three-cornered note on a salver.

  "There's a young lady, a Miss Lewis, waiting downstairs. She broughtthis note and begged that it should be delivered to you at once, miss. Iventured under the circumstances to wake you, as the young lady seemedfrom all accounts to be in a desperate way."

  "What can it mean?" said Gwin. She sprang up in bed, tore open the note,and read the contents.

  "Is my cold bath in the room, Simpson?" she asked of her maid.

  "Yes, miss; in your dressing-room."

  "Well, I shall dress at once. Go down, please, to Miss Lewis and tellher that I'll be ready to see her in my study in twenty minutes."

  The maid departed on this errand, which brought much relief to poorElma.

  In less than the time named she was summoned by Gwin's maid to comewith her to Miss Harley's study. There a moment later she and Gwin wereclasping each other's hands. Gwin was in a long white dressing-gown; herhair streaming over her shoulders.

  "Well, to be sure, Elma," she exclaimed, "you are an early bird. Now,what do you want with me? I am full of curiosity. You are in trouble,and it is something connected with Kitty Malone?"

  "Yes," said Elma. "I am desperate, and I have come on a desperateerrand, Gwin. Can you manage, somehow or other, in some fashion, to letme have the use of eight pounds for--for say a fortnight?"

  Gwin Harley gasped; not only at the magnitude of the sum demanded, butalso at Elma's audacity in asking for it.

  "You want eight pounds," She exclaimed. "But, Elma, you know the rule?"

  "Oh, yes, I know the rule; and it is because I am fairly desperate Iapply to you. You might lend the money to my sister Carrie; or perhapsmother would be best. It might be managed so that I didn't appear toborrow it. I would not ask for it if--if the trouble were not terrible;and--and the secret belongs to another."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It belongs partly to Kitty Malone."

  "I cannot help you," said Gwin decidedly.

  "Why? Oh Gwin, I did not know you could be so cruel."

  "You don't understand, Elma. I am surprised that you should ask me. Howcould I break one of the strictest rules of the school?"

  "Oh, but you need not really break it; I mean it could be managed inthis way: Would not your father lend mother the money? You need not doit at all; all you have to do is to ask him."

  "You must tell me everything, Elma. This is most mysterious. Why do youwant money? Is it for yourself? You must tell me every single thing."

  "I cannot tell you, because the secret is not mine."

  "You say Kitty is mixed up with this?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "And you will not tell why?"

  "I cannot. I wish I could."

  "Then, Elma, I also must be firm. I cannot help you."

  "You will not ask your father?"

  "How could I? It would be a subterfuge--the whole thing would be asubterfuge. I must have nothing to do with it. I am sorry, Elma, for Isee you are in great trouble; but I am powerless."

  "Then I am ruined," said Elma. She covered her face with her hands, andthe tears trickled slowly between her fingers.

  "I wish I could help you," said Gwin kindly. "Is there any other way?"

  "No other way. I want eight pounds for a fortnight--I want itdesperately. You could manage to let me have it without breaking therules of the school, but you will not."

  "I am truly sorry, but--I will not."

  "Oh, Gwin, if you would only trust me. We were always friends, were wenot?"

  "Yes," answered Gwin slowly. "I have always liked you, Elma."

  "We were friends," continued Elma, wiping the tears passionately fromher cheeks; "and I did think last night, when I was in such trouble,that perhaps you could come to my aid. I thought you would trust mewithout my telling you everything."

  "I cannot, Elma," said Gwin again.

  "Why?"

  Elma now looked steadily into Gwin's face. Gwin looked gravely intohers. After a time Gwin spoke slowly:

  "Because," she said--"forgive me, Elma--you are not trustworthy."

  "Oh!" said Elma. She turned first pale and then red.

  "There is no use in my staying," she said, after a pause. "I am sorry Igot you up so early."

  "Oh, that does not matter," said Gwin, in an altered tone. "I would dowhat I could to help you; but I cannot do the impossible."

  "I see that I was mistaken in you."

  "Not at all," replied Gwin. "You found me what I have always been. I amnaturally careful. I never jump to wild conclusions; I am not impulsive.I have liked you, and I shall go on liking you in the future."

  "Even though I am not trustworthy?"

  "Yes; I shall like you for what you are. You have always been nice to
me, and I wish to be nice to you. Please understand that this will makeno difference."

  "And you won't tell what I came about?"

  "No, I shall never mention it. Now, must you go?"

  "I must," said Elma.

  The full morning light fell upon her face as she spoke, and Gwinnoticed that it looked small, pinched, and thin.

  "You must have some breakfast first," she said. She walked across theroom and sounded the bell. The servant appeared in a moment.

  "Order breakfast to be served here this morning," said Miss Harley, "fortwo, please." The maid withdrew. Gwin opened the window and looked out.

  "I am very sorry for Kitty," she said, after a pause.

  Elma did not reply. After a time she said slowly:

  "Did you see Miss Sherrard last night?"

  "I did; but it was useless. She won't retract her mandate."

  A sigh of relief came from Elma's lips.

  The servant again appeared with breakfast. Gwin poured out tea for herfriend. Elma drank a cup, her throat felt dry. She saw no way out of herdifficulty. She could scarcely bring herself to eat.

  A few moments later she was on her way back from Harley Grove. Shehesitated whether to go straight to the school and wait there until nineo'clock or to return to Constantine Road. After a little reflection shedecided on the latter course. She reached home hot and weary betweeneight and nine o'clock. Carrie was seated at the breakfast table; aletter lay on Elma's plate.

  "Why, Elma, what have you been doing out and about at this unearthlyhour?" said Carrie, as she cracked the shell of an egg by no meansfresh.

  "Where is mother?" remarked Elma, as she seated herself at the table.

  "She has a bad headache. I have sent up her breakfast. Are you going tosee her?"

  "No, I think not. I shall just have time to eat something--not that I amspecially hungry--and then start for school."

  "There's a letter on your plate. Why don't you read it?"

  "I know; it's from Aunt Charlotte."

  "Well, well, and you are interested in Aunt Charlotte more than I am,"said Carrie. "Do read your letter."

  Elma somewhat languidly tore open the envelope. The next moment sheuttered an exclamation, and her face went first red and then pale.

  "Aunt Charlotte writes to say she is coming here to-day."

  "To-day! Good gracious!" said Carrie. "She doesn't want me to stay in,does she?"

  "Oh, no; but this is terribly awkward."

  "Why so, Elma? Why shouldn't you ask her to lend you the money?"

  "Ask Aunt Charlotte! I may as well put my hand into the fire."

  "Well, suppose I were to help you," said Carrie, after a time.

  "You, Carrie; how could you?"

  "But suppose I were to--I am not the sort of person who does anythingfor nothing. What would you give me if I got you out of this?"

  "But how could you get me out of it?"

  "Why, I suppose by giving Kitty the money."

  "Carrie, you talk nonsense. Unless, indeed, you were to persuade SamRaynes----"

  "Oh, it's useless to worry poor Sam. He has speculated with that money,and if he doubles it we shall have it back. I think when that time comesthe very least you ought to do, Elma is to give me half of the balanceover and above what you borrowed. That would be three pounds ten, for mequite a nice little sum. It would keep me in ribbons, gloves, and bootsfor a bit. I get such a very small salary."

  "Well, the money has not been doubled; it's time enough to talk of ourchickens when they are hatched," said Elma. She rose from her seat,looking despairingly at the open letter which she held in her hand.

  "After all, I may as well take this up to mother," she said.

  "One moment before you go, Elma. Would you like me to help you, or wouldyou not?"

  "If you could help me, Carrie, of course I should be obliged."

  "And what is the punishment they have inflicted upon that Irish lass?"

  "Oh, dear me, Carrie, I told you all about that yesterday; she is inCoventry--we are none of us allowed to speak to her."

  "All the same, you did speak to her last night, don't forget."

  "Yes, I could not help myself; but if it was found out it would go hardwith us both."

  "Then I am the one to interfere," said Carrie _sotto voce._ "I'll do mybest, Elma, and trust to you to make it up to me when I have got you outof this scrape."

  "I wish you would do something, Carrie; but I don't suppose you can.It's awful to think of Aunt Charlotte coming now. If I can't help Kitty,Kitty is sure to tell, and then it will be all over the school. Theywon't blame her so much as they'll blame me. Oh dear, dear! if you woulddo something!"

  "Well, I promise that I just will," said Carrie. "Now go off to schoolwith an easy mind."