CHAPTER IV.
THE LOST PURSE.
unday "outings," in the holiday-making sense, were not much to Kate's fancy, but she had exhausted all her excuses and objections, and found herself forced to yield to Marion's proposal. So the two girls went off and found their friends waiting for them a short distance from the shop. The bells of various churches were ringing for morning service, and Kate ventured to whisper to her cousin that she would like to go, but Marion shook her head so decidedly that she gave up the point at once, but she did not take much interest in the discussion that was going on about the rival attractions of Greenwich and Richmond, saying she knew nothing about either.
At last it was decided that they should spend the afternoon at Greenwich, going and returning by water. The young men walked with them almost as far as Marion's home, but left them at the corner of the street, and nothing was said to her father about these companions of their walk. When Isabel heard where they were going she declared she must have her bonnet altered, and Marion sat down to do this while her sister got the dinner ready.
As they were going out after dinner, Marion said, "Perhaps we shall stop out to tea, father. I want to go and see a friend to-day, and she is sure to ask us to stay to tea."
"Very well, my dear, I can manage to get tea for myself and the boys," said her father, carelessly. Marion always had been allowed to do very much as she pleased, and since her mother's death, and she had got a situation, she had taken the reins quite into her own hands, and seldom asked advice, and still more rarely accepted it when it was offered.
Kate felt rather uncomfortable at first, when she thought of this steamboat excursion, but she soon forgot this in the pleasure and novelty of the scene around her, and she stifled the voice of conscience, by whispering that this would not happen again—she had only come this once, that her cousin might go with her to the Bible-class when the fine weather was over.
The steamboat was crowded, and there was a good deal of pushing and squeezing when they reached Greenwich Pier, where most of the passengers were landed.
"All tickets ready! all tickets ready!" called the man at the end of the landing-board, while another took each passenger's scrap of paper as they passed out. Kate had put her ticket in her purse for safety; and now put her hand into her pocket to get it; but to her dismay she found her pocket empty. "Oh, stop a minute, wait for me, Marion, I must have dropped my purse!" and Kate began to elbow her way through the crowd back to where she had been sitting. The place was vacant now, and she hunted all round, but no purse could be seen. "Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears.
"What is it, why don't you come?" said Marion, who had now come back for her.
"My purse, my purse, I've lost it!" sobbed poor Kate.
"Lost your purse!" exclaimed Marion. "Did you drop it?"
Kate shook her head. "I don't know; I thought I put it into my pocket," she said.
The two were looking under the seats, and all round as they talked, but now they heard Bella and their companions calling to them from the pier to make haste, as the steamboat was about to leave, so they had to give up the search and run ashore.
"Tickets, Miss, tickets," said the man, as they were hastening past to join their friends. Marion gave up hers, but Kate could only repeat, "What shall I do, what shall I do!"
"Have you had a purse given to you that was found on board the boat?" asked Marion.
The man laughed at the question. "I suppose you have lost one," he said.
"Yes, and my steamboat ticket was in it. Did anyone give it to you?" asked Kate anxiously.
"Oh, no! my dear, I've seen no purse. You must pay again, that's all I can say."
"But how can I pay, all my money was in my purse," sobbed Kate.
"What is it, what's the row?" asked one of the young men, who had come back for them.
"This young lady's lost her purse, that's all," said the man. "Are you one of her friends?" he suddenly added.
"Yes, I am!" said the young man.
"Ah, well then, the matter can soon be settled. You see her ticket was in the purse, and we can't be expected to lose that."
"Precious mean of you then," grumbled the friend, putting his hand into his pocket and counting out Kate's fare.
There was a momentary sense of relief in Kate's mind, and Marion whispered, "There, now it's all right, come along and forget all about it."
But that was just what Kate could not do; and the longer she thought about it, the more miserable she grew. They went for a walk in the grand old park, which Kate would have enjoyed immensely at any other time, but conscience was reproving her for this misspent Sabbath, and then the loss of her money almost distracted her, for she was to receive her salary from Mrs. Maple by the quarter, and so it would be nearly three months before she had another penny she could call her own.
"Oh, dear, I wish I had never come," sighed Kate.
"It's no use crying over spilt milk," said Marion; "so cheer up for a little while, and let us be jolly." And she took her cousin and led her on to the rest of the party, for Kate had preferred to drop behind and indulge her gloomy thoughts alone.
"Here, William!" she said, "try and cheer her up a bit, she feels dull about losing her purse."
The young man tried to "cheer her," as he had been directed, but it was not any easy task. He was not the sort of companion Kate had been used to, and could talk of little but music-halls, and theatres, and the last popular song, and singers—things which Kate knew nothing about, and could not interest her just now; so that the afternoon passed slowly away.
They were leaving the Park now, and Bella was declaring that she must have some tea before she went home.
"Well, then, I'll sit down on this seat," said Kate, "and you can come for me when you are ready to go home," and Kate went over to the seat, but was closely followed by the rest.
"Come, come, we can't allow this, you know," said her self-constituted guardian, William; "you are under my charge, and you must come and have some tea."
"Oh, do please leave me alone; I shall feel better here," pleaded Kate.
"Nonsense, Kate, a cup of tea will do you good," said Bella impatiently.
"But you forget I have lost my purse, and have no money to pay for it," replied Kate, a little bitterly.
"But I told you that did not matter," interposed the young man again; "my purse is at your service. I will give it you, if you like—if you will only laugh and chat as you did on board the steamer."
Kate smiled, and thanked him, but declined to accept either purse or tea from him.
"You are almost a stranger to me, and I feel vexed that you should have had to pay for my steamboat ticket," she said.
"Oh, Kate, how rude you are," said Marion, crossly; "there, come along to tea, and I will pay for it, if you will not accept William's kindness."
"I cannot," said Kate; "and I would much rather stay here than go to a tea I cannot pay for."
"Well, you shall pay me back, if you like—if that will satisfy you," said Marion, impatiently; and Kate reluctantly rose from her seat, and followed the rest, who had already turned in the direction of the park gates.
Marion and the rest seemed to enjoy their tea, and laughed and chatted, and tried to rouse Kate into something like merriment too, but Kate felt too anxious and unhappy to laugh at anything—even the poor jokes and witticisms of William although they were made for her special benefit and which afforded her so much amusement when they first started.
"Really, Kate, it is too bad of you to let your loss spoil the fun for everybody," said Marion, reproachfully, as they turned towards the steam-boat pier once more.
"I don't want to spoil your fun, I only want you to leave me alone," said Kate, crossly. And Marion did leave her alone for the rest of the evening, but her self-appointed friend would not. He paid her steamboat fare back, and talked to her assiduously as he had done during the afternoon, but with little better success, and Kate was thankful when the miserable day came to an end, and she was once more in the little bedroom she shared with Marion.
"And do you really mean to say, Kate, that you took out all the money you possessed?" said her cousin, as she began to undress.
"Yes. I know it was very foolish," sighed Kate.
"How much was there altogether?" asked her cousin.
"Nearly six shillings."
"Oh, well, that wasn't much," said Marion, rather contemptuously, "and I daresay you will be able to manage until your mother sends you some more."
"I shall not ask mother—I'll wait until Mrs. Maple pays me my wages."
"Say salary, my dear, that is more genteel," said Marion. "But how are you going to manage for your letters; and you'll want new neck-ribbons, and that bonnet will never last you three months."
"It must, and I shall have to do without neck-ribbons. There, don't bother me to-night," concluded Kate.
"I don't want to bother you, and you are a goose to bother and worry yourself as you do about trifles. Most girls would have forgotten the loss of a paltry purse when they had a nice-looking young man like William so kind to them. You must make it up to him, you know; he will expect it," said Marion.
Kate lifted her head, and looked at her cousin but Marion turned her head aside.
"Make it up to him. What do you mean, Marion? Of course I shall pay the shilling I owe him for my steamboat fare, I told him so when I said 'good-night.'"
"You did! How can you be so rude or so stupid, which is it? Don't you know they like to pay for us, if they can get the chance. I let them do it sometimes; it pleases them, and don't hurt me."
"What, when you have the money in your pocket, and can pay for yourself?" exclaimed Kate, in astonishment.
"Yes; why shouldn't they spend their money if they like it; and besides, I make it up to them," added Marion.
"How do you do that?" asked Kate.
But Marion did not answer. She began to feel half sorry she had told her cousin as much as she had.
"How do you make it up to them?" repeated Kate.
"Oh, don't bother me to-night, I'm tired. Keep your eyes open, and you'll see for yourself," concluded Marion, as she got into bed.
Kate kneeled down, as she always did, for the habit of prayer was too strong to be broken all at once. She felt ashamed and unhappy as she kneeled down, and she wished she could pray as her mother and teacher had often told her—pouring out her whole heart before God. Poor, foolish Kate, she had read often enough those words, "Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, let your requests be made known unto God;" and yet she was afraid to bring this trouble to Him.
Her thoughts were also running on her cousin's last words, and after she got into bed, she said again:
"I wish you would tell me how I can make it up to William—about that shilling, I mean; it will be such a long time for him to wait before I can pay it."
"I should think it would, if you mean to wait until you take your salary," said Marion, impatiently.
"Well, then, tell me what I can do besides. How do you make it up when they pay shillings for you?"
"Keep your eyes open, and you'll see for yourself some day. But you'd better shut them now and go to sleep, or you won't be able to keep them open at the right time," concluded Marion, as she turned round to put an end to the talk.
But after a minute or two, Kate said, "You might tell me when it is the right time to keep them open, Marion."
"Oh, don't bother; go to sleep. Haven't you heard 'there's tricks in every trade'?"
"I don't know; perhaps I have."
"Well, then, keep a sharp look-out, and you'll soon learn the tricks of ours." And Marion was soon fast asleep; but it was a long time before Kate could close her eyes, for conscience was at work again, urging her to tell her mother of her loss, and all that led to it. But Kate was afraid. She could not bear to forfeit her mother's good opinion, and make her anxious. She might even send for her to come home, and Kate did not like the idea of that at all. She was very comfortable in this "old-fashioned place," as everybody called it, and not at all inclined to go back to a quiet country life.
CHAPTER V.
DISCLOSURE.
an you oblige me by putting this bill in the window Miss?" asked a pleasant-looking young woman, who often came into the shop for a loaf or a few buns.
"I daresay we can," said Kate, taking the bill and reading it. It was the announcement of a tea-meeting at a Sunday school in the neighbourhood, and Kate forthwith determined to speak to this young woman when she came in again, and ask her if there was a Bible-class there for elder girls and young women.
"Look here, Marion," she said, holding up the bill to her cousin, "I suppose I can put this into the window?"
"I suppose you can, but I shouldn't; I should throw it under the counter!" said Marion in a tone of contempt.
"But why?" asked Kate.
"Well, we can't put in all the bills that are brought, and so I never put that Sunday-school rubbish anywhere but under the counter."
"Well, I shall put it in the window," said Kate, decidedly, and as she had charge of the one where the piles of loaves where placed, she put it in the most conspicuous corner. "I did not know there was a Sunday-school so near," she went on; "I shall ask that young person when she comes in again if they have got a nice Bible-class there. Perhaps she goes to it herself, and would take me with her for the first time."
"You seem to forget Mrs. Maple's rule about making friends of the customers," said Marion quickly.
"So do you, I should think," retorted Kate.
"I am not a new hand: I have been here some months, and know the ways of London better than a country girl," replied Marion.
"Well, I don't believe Mrs. Maple would mind me speaking to this young woman about a Bible-class; you don't know anything about it, and I must ask someone. She would not mind it so much as our talking to those young men as we do."
"Well, ask her and see!" said Marion, scornfully.
"I've a great mind to," said Kate.
"Do; go now! Kate, you are the greatest simpleton that ever came to London, I think. I do believe you would go and ask this, as though you were afraid your tongue was not your own. Talk to her if you like, only don't grumble any more about me talking to my friends, as you do sometimes."
If Kate had only known it, Mrs. Maple would readily have granted a breaking of her rule in favour of this customer, for she knew her to be a good, industrious young woman, who would influence her aright; for although not a Christian herself she had a great respect for those who were, and knew they were the most trustworthy and reliable in business.
But Kate was laughed out of her intention of speaking to Mrs. Maple about this, and as she happened to be in the shop each time this customer came in during the next week, she had no opportunity of asking her what she wished, and so another Sunday came round without any effort being made to discover the Bible-class she had told her mother she would find.
During this week Marion's friends came in nearly every day, and Kate noticed that they ate a good deal of pastry as they stood laughing and chatting with them, for Kate was easily drawn into the talk now, but Marion always took the money for what they had, so that she did not know what money really was paid.
One day she ventured to say, "I suppose William has a very high salary, as he can afford to spend so much in buns and cakes, and go out for Sunday excursions?"
"And pay for people who are so foolish as to lose their purses, you should add," laughed Marion.
But it was no laughing matter to Kate. Already she had been obliged to borrow a postage-stamp from her cousin to send her customary letter to her mother, and she had a keen suspicion that it had been taken from Mrs. Maple's desk, of which Marion kept the key. The following Sunday it was arranged that they should go to Greenwich again, and though Kate protested at first that she would not go, she was at last persuaded to join the party, Marion offering to pay for her, or to lend her the money to pay for herself. This time Kate enjoyed herself almost as much as any of them. She had succeeded in quieting her conscience, so that it did not trouble her as much as it did at first. How she succeeded in keeping her mother quiet and hopeful too, she alone knew, but she did not write home quite so frequently now, and made excuses for shorter letters by saying she had so little time to write.
Marion contrived that she should not have an opportunity of saying much to the young woman who brought the Sunday school bill, for she always went forward to serve her if they were by themselves in the shop. Once Kate got so far as to ask her if they had a Bible-class at the Sunday school, but Marion came up and interposed at once.
"What is the use of your asking questions about a Bible-class here? We are not here on Sunday, and it would be too far for you to walk backwards and forwards three or four times a day."
"Yes, I suppose it would," assented Kate slowly.
"We have a very nice class, and the lady who teaches would be glad to see you if you would come," ventured the customer.
"But she can't; it is impossible," said Marion; and this ended the conversation, for the young woman did not like to press it further, and, truth to tell, Kate was beginning to enjoy the Sunday walks and excursions, and therefore was not so anxious to join a Bible-class as she had been at first.
So the pleasant days and weeks of autumn slipped away, and when Kate sometimes asked her cousin what she had meant by saying she must make it up to William for paying for her steamboat fare, she laughed, and said she would find out some day if she only kept her eyes open.
Kate had kept her eyes open, as she thought, but Marion had not allowed her to see too much, for she did not quite feel sure how far Kate might be trusted with their secret yet; but her friends were not aware of this, and one day, Marion having gone out on business for Mrs. Maple, Kate was alone in the shop when William and a companion came in.
"Marion has gone out," said Kate.
"Has she? Something unusual, isn't it?" said the young man carelessly.
"Yes, very unusual," said Kate, "it is not often we get sent out."
"The old lady is out of the way, I suppose?" said William confidentially, as he helped himself to a sponge-cake from a plate on the counter.
"Yes, or else I dare not talk to you," said Kate, laughing.
"Well, we came in to ask if you couldn't both manage to go to the theatre one night," said William, helping himself to something else from the counter, and handing the plate to his friend.
"Me go to a theatre!" exclaimed Kate; "I have never been in my life."
"Just the reason why you should go now, then," said William, with his mouth full of lemon cheese-cake. "Tell Marion what I say, and I know she will agree with me. Tell her I have a chance of some orders this winter, and you two shall have the first I can get hold of."
"You are very kind," said Kate. "I am sure Marion will be pleased, if she can only manage to go."
"And won't you be pleased too?" said the young man, looking round for another untasted dainty.
"I—I don't know, I don't think I shall be able to go; I don't see how we can both get out together."
"Oh, Marion will manage that, I daresay. You must go, Kate, if I can get the orders."
After a little more talk and a little more persuasion, William said he would take two pennyworth of buns, and gave Kate twopence as he spoke.
Kate handed him two buns and glanced over the impoverished plates on the counter, trying to reckon how many had been taken, while he in equal astonishment looked at the small bag she handed to him.
"Miss Kate, I am a wholesale customer, you know," he said at last.
"Wholesale?" repeated Kate; "I don't understand. Of course I know we supply a few shops at a different rate—at wholesale, as you call it, but——"
"You don't mean to say Marion has never let you into the secret of our wholesale trade," whispered William.
"I don't know what you mean, I'm sure."
"Well, never mind, it don't matter; I've got two buns, and I've paid for them;" and William was turning away from the counter, but Kate said quickly—
"Stop a minute; there are those other things you've had off the plates."
"Oh, it's all right, I'll settle with Marion for them. Good afternoon." And the next minute he was gone, leaving Kate in a state of bewildered astonishment not easily described. She knew that Marion often helped herself to stamps, envelopes, and paper out of her mistress's desk, but she could not think that she would rob her to such an extent as William's words would imply, for it was robbery, nothing less, to give away their employer's property for favours bestowed on themselves. This, then, was how such favours were to be made up to them.
Kate longed for, and yet dreaded, her cousin's return, that she might talk to her about this, yet wondering at the same time how she should begin, how she should tell her what she thought of it. But, as it often happens, Marion herself helped her out of the difficulty, for as she came into the shop she said, in a hurried whisper, "Anyone been in, Kate?"
Kate nodded. "Go and get your things off, and I will tell you all about it," she said.
"Oh, I can guess your news, I think; he can get us some orders for the theatre? Isn't that it?"
"Yes, that and something else," said Kate rather gravely.
"Oh, never mind the 'something else,' that's enough. Kate, it will be splendid; he always gets orders for the best seats in the first-rate theatres. You must go."
"I don't know whether I shall, I must talk to you about things first. How are these orders to be paid for?"
"Paid for? That's nothing to do with you or me either, Kate. Orders are always presents."
"Yes, but we are expected to make it up, and to rob Mrs. Maple to do it."
"Rob her? What do you mean, Kate? If you were not my own cousin I'd make you prove your words," said Marion angrily. "What do you mean, I say? If you are a thief, begging me to give you her postage-stamps, I am not; I can buy postage-stamps for myself."
"I did not ask you for Mrs. Maple's stamps," said Kate indignantly; "I asked you to lend me your own until I could pay you for them."
"Lend you my own! why, you knew I had not got any," exclaimed Marion. "Where was I to get them but out of the desk?"
"Well, I've kept account of how many stamps I have had, and you shall put them back. But it was not the stamps I was thinking of, Marion."
"Oh, no, of course not; we never see ourselves as other people see us."
"I told you William came in this afternoon. Well, he ate a good deal of pastry off the plates, and then gave me twopence for some buns, expecting half a dozen, I suppose, for he was very much surprised that I only gave him two, and said he was always served at the wholesale price, and then went away without paying for anything he had eaten."
"Well, suppose he did?" said Marion, coolly, "didn't he tell you he was keeping an account with me?"
"He told me to tell you he would settle with you about that."
"Well, what more do you want? How dare you charge me with being a thief? The idea of your coming here and saying such things of me, who was here long before you were! It only shows what a bad, wicked girl you must be, and what you would do yourself if you only had the chance. I have a great mind to go to Mrs. Maple this minute, and tell her what a dangerous person she has in her house, and how we have all been deceived in you."
Marion had almost talked herself out of breath, and Kate out of her suspicions. As her cousin went upstairs to take off her things Kate began to feel like a culprit in the matter, as though she ought to beg her cousin's pardon for judging her unjustly; and yet when she was left alone again calmly to think over all that had happened that afternoon and many previous afternoons, she could not but think that her suspicions were correct; she rather dreaded Marion coming down again, but, to her surprise, Marion seemed to have forgotten her anger by the time she appeared, and came into the shop smiling and pleasant as though nothing had happened.
"I have not told Mrs. Maple anything about our quarrel, Kate," she said, quite coolly; "I am sure you do not mean what you said just now, and it would vex her, I know, if she knew we had begun quarrelling."
"I almost wish you had told her," said Kate.
"Well, my dear, I am not so fond of making other people uncomfortable as you are, and so I think we had better keep the affair to ourselves. I don't mind telling you this much, I do sometimes give William a bun over what he pays for, at the retail price—let him have them at the wholesale rate, as he is a pretty good customer."
"But now let me try and remember what William had, for I went to the drawers and filled up the plates again."
"That was right; never let your plates be half empty if you can fill them. Now you had better tell me what William had," and Marion took a note-book from her pocket, and appeared to set done the items as Kate could recall them.
"I don't think he had anything else," said Kate, when nearly a shilling's worth had been called over.
"Well, we'll forgive him if he has," said Marion, replacing the book in her pocket with a smile. "Don't look so grave, Kate; I'm not going to rob Mrs. Maple, as you accused me of doing a little while ago. Everybody in business lets their own friends have things at a wholesale rate. Mrs. Maple sells to the shops on those terms, and why shouldn't I let William have them at the same price? it makes no difference to her."
"Oh, yes it does—it must; and, besides, the things are not ours, but hers, and we ought to sell them at the regular price, and no other."
"You are too strict, but you will find out that such strict notions won't do in business. I tell you everybody does it—show their friends a little favour in buying and selling, and we must do the same or we might as well be in a convent."
CHAPTER VI.
AT THE THEATRE.
arion so far overcame her cousin's scruples that she said no more about the young men's non-payment, and when William or one of his companions asked for buns and gave her twopence, which was the sum usually paid whatever they might have, she did not hesitate to give them four or five, or even half a dozen if he said, as he sometimes did, "Make it half a dozen this time, Kate."
But Marion was not quite so pleasant with these friends as time went on, for the promised orders for the theatre did not come, and Marion was disappointed and impatient.
"It's no good being so cross with a fellow; I tell you I'll get the orders next week, if I possibly can," said William, one afternoon, when Marion was more than usually snappish.
It was drawing near to Christmas now, and the days were short and dark and cold, so that pleasure trips and excursions down the river were out of the question; it was often impossible for them even to go for a walk in the parks on Sunday.
"You've told me the same thing before, and here I have been moped up for a month, waiting for them. I tell you I'll go somewhere by myself; I can't bear this dull life much longer," concluded Marion.
"Well, I'll get the orders to-morrow, if I can," said William, and this time he was as good as his word. He came in the next afternoon, and with a triumphant flourish handed Marion the coveted orders for herself and Kate.
"Oh, my! they've come at last, and for to-morrow night, too," exclaimed Marion, examining the papers critically.
"But we can't both go," said Kate, peeping over her shoulder at the magic papers that had worked such a wonderful change in her cousin's temper, for Marion had been very cross lately, and scarcely spoken a civil word to Kate.
"Who says we can't both go?" demanded Marion; "it would serve you right not to let you go—to leave you here in the shop while I am enjoying myself in fairyland."
"No, no, that won't be fair," said William. "Kate must go, or the party will be spoiled."
"Who else are going?" asked Marion.
"Oh, a lot of young fellows; some you do know and some you don't. We shall be a jolly party, and will take good care of you girls."
"Have they all got orders?" asked Kate.
"No, it isn't likely; most of them will pay for themselves; they can afford to do it better than you or I can, but they will be none the less glad to have our company."
"But I don't see how I am to go," said Kate again.
"Oh, leave that to me, I'll manage it," said Marion. "We must both get out somehow, but it won't do to tell Mrs. Maple where we are going."
"The old lady would have a fit, I suppose?" said William, speaking with his mouth full of cake.
"Oh, ten fits all at once!" laughed Marion. "We must take care she doesn't find out where we have been."
While William was amusing himself by eating sponge cakes and tarts, Marion sat down at the desk and began writing a letter. "You must wait for this," she said; "I want you to take it to the post-office close to our home, and post it there. You see I am writing it to myself, asking myself and Kate to go home for a few hours to keep father's birthday to-morrow evening. I shall show it to Mrs. Maple, of course, and she'll grumble a bit at first, I daresay, but she'll let us go, I know."
"All right. She isn't half a bad sort, is she?" said the young man.
"No, that she isn't, and I hate to deceive her," said Kate, warmly.
"Well, she'll be none the worse for it, you goose," said Marion, laughing.
"I—I don't think I'll go," said Kate.
"There, take the letter, I'll manage her," said Marion, impatiently, as William was about to expostulate. "She'll come fast enough, I tell you."
"All right. I'll come in to-morrow to arrange about meeting, for we must go together. Mind, you must go, Kate," added the young man, as he slipped the letter into his pocket.
"Now, Kate, don't let us have any fuss with you about this," said her cousin, as the shop door closed and they were left to themselves.
"I don't want any fuss, but I don't want to go to the theatre."
"Well, stay at home, then; I'm not going to persuade you," said Marion, crossly, and then some more customers came in, and there was no opportunity of renewing the discussion for some time, and Marion did not refer to the matter again that evening.
The letter Marion had written reached them by the last post that night, and after she had gone through the form of reading it she took it at once to Mrs. Maple. "Will you read this, ma'am? They want us to go home for the evening to-morrow, if you can spare us."
"What, both of you?" said Mrs. Maple, taking the letter and putting on her spectacles as she spoke.
"Your sister writes very much like you, Marion," remarked the old lady, as she looked at the envelope again; not that she doubted Marion or suspected she would even attempt to deceive her—it was done almost without a second thought. But Marion had provided against such a scrutiny. The post-marks were quite correct, and Marion answered quickly, "Yes, ma'am, our handwriting is very much alike. We went to school together."
"Well, I don't know what to say to this," said Mrs. Maple, rather crossly, as she handed back the letter. "It is very inconsiderate of your father, I think, wanting you both at once."
"You see, they are going to have a few friends and we don't often have company, now," said Marion, twisting the corner of her apron as she spoke.
"Well, well, there's something in that, to be sure; but still it's very inconvenient for me. I must send and see if my niece can come and mind the shop for an hour or two to-morrow night. Will you want to stay out all night, or can you get home so as to be ready for the morning?"
"Oh, we will come home at night, ma'am; father will bring us home, if you won't mind us being late for once."
"Oh, I can put up with that; it's the shop I'm thinking of, if my niece cannot come."
"Well, then, we cannot go?"
"You cannot both go, certainly, if she cannot come to help me. I will send Mary with a note the first thing to-morrow morning."
Marion went back and told Kate the result of her "managing." "We shall go, never fear," she said confidently.
"I don't seem to care about it a bit, now. I wish you had not asked for me," said Kate.
"Now, don't be a simpleton, or you will make me cross. Don't want to go, indeed! What next, I wonder, after all the talk there has been about it? Really, Kate, I have no patience with you!"
"Well, I wouldn't mind if it wasn't deceiving Mrs. Maple; and then, somehow, I seem to have such a dread of it."
"Fiddlesticks! what next, I wonder?" said Marion contemptuously.
They saw Mary go out with the note next morning, and a wild wish seemed to seize Kate to run after her and tell her not to go. "I do hope she can't come," she said, half aloud; but her cousin would not notice the speech.
Mary, who knew the errand she had been sent upon, told them in a whisper as she came through the shop that it was "all right," and very soon Mrs. Maple came out and said they could go home for the evening—could go to tea, if they liked.
"Thank you, ma'am, but after tea will do. From four to six is always a busy time at both counters, and so we will not leave until that is over."
William came in before the busy time, and arranged to meet the girls in time to take them to the theatre. Kate felt it would be useless to resist further, and agreed to go with them without further demur, putting her vague fears out of mind as far as she could, and determined to enjoy herself as much as possible.
Just as William had left the shop, Mrs. Maple came in and filled two bags with pastry and buns. "There, you had better take these home with you," she said, when she had filled the last, and speaking to Marion.
"Thank you, ma'am, I am much obliged; father will be pleased," said Marion, but Kate felt thankful she was on the other side of the shop, and could hide her tell-tale face, for she knew she blushed with shame at the way they were deceiving their kind mistress.
When they went up to put their things on after tea, she said, "Oh, Marion, I feel like a thief, taking these things for your father, and we know he will never see them."
"There, make haste and pack away one lot in your bag, and hold your tongue," said Marion, impatiently.
"What shall we do with all these?" asked Kate; "Mrs. Maple has given us such a lot."
"Why, eat them, to be sure; William and the rest will help us. There, you put as many as you can in your bag, and we'll save them to eat when we come out, and they must take the rest between them," said Marion.
Kate filled her leather bag and Marion took those that were soon to be disposed of, and with a parting word from Mrs. Maple not to be very late, the girls set off.
Their friends were waiting for them at the corner of the street, and when they reached the doors of the theatre they were joined by several other smartly-dressed young men, who paid for their seats, and to whom money seemed of very little account. They condescended to laugh and chat with the two girls and eat some of the pastry, and Marion felt immensely flattered by their attentions.
Kate was in a state of bewilderment the whole evening. She had never seen a theatre before, and the whole scene was so strange and new, and the performances on the stage were so real to her that she paid little attention to other things, and was scarcely aware that some of the party changed their seats once or twice during the evening. The performance came to an end at last, all too soon for enraptured Kate, who found it hard to reconcile herself to her surroundings all at once.
"Come, Kate, don't go to sleep," said Marion, laughing at her dazed look round at the crowd.
All the people were leaving their seats now, and our party got up too.
"Open your bag, Kate, I should like a bun now," said Marion, and she took one herself and handed some to the rest of the party, who were pushing and elbowing their way through the crowd.
"What a dreadful crush there is," said Marion. "Kate, you haven't brought another purse to lose, have you?" she whispered.
Kate shook her head, for she was eating now from the bag as she carried it open in her hand. The next minute some one cried out, "I have been robbed—my watch has gone!" and the crowd surged back, and Kate was almost pushed off her feet.
There were cries of "Police! police! stop thief! stop thief!" and during the confusion that ensued Kate and Marion, who managed to keep together, were pushed into a corner and separated, from all their friends.
"Shut up your bag, Kate, or it may be snatched out of your hand, gaping open like that," said Marion.
"Oh! what is it, when shall we get out?" exclaimed Kate, turning very pale.
"There, don't be frightened," said Marion. "The crowd will move on directly, and the others will wait for us outside. It's nothing but a few pickpockets, you need not look so frightened."
"Oh, I wish we hadn't come!" said Kate, fairly trembling with undefined terror. She shut her bag, for neither she nor Marion could eat anything now, and even Marion began to get frightened at last, for only murmured words among the crowd could tell them what was going on, but there was a bustle and expectancy and a swaying to and fro of the multitude that convinced Marion something unusual must be taking place, for they did not move a step forward for all the pushing and squeezing.
"Oh, dear! how late we shall be," said Kate, after a few minutes' waiting. "Can't we get out, Marion?"
"No, that we can't until the crowd moves. There, don't be frightened; Mrs. Maple won't expect us yet," said Marion.
It was some time before there was any perceptible movement in the crowd, but at last the two girls were released from their corner, and pushed their way on with the rest.
Once outside, they began to look about for their former companions, but could see nothing of them. The crowd had almost dispersed now, for they were nearly the last to leave the theatre, and so there was no difficulty in looking round, but neither William nor his grand friends could be seen.
"Well, that is mean of him to walk off and leave us like this!" said Marion, crossly.
"Never mind; let us make haste home by ourselves," said Kate, who was frightened at the lateness of the hour, for they had heard a clock strike eleven several minutes before.
But Marion would stop and look round once more. "I wonder where they have gone?" she said.
"Oh, do come!" said Kate; "perhaps they thought we had gone on, as we were so long getting out."
"Perhaps they are waiting for us at the corner," said Marion, who was unwilling to give up the hope of seeing these grand new-found friends again. She hurried on by Kate's side, and at the corner of the street stopped again and looked all round.
"Oh, don't wait, Marion, they are home by this time," said Kate, hurrying on.
Marion was obliged to hurry after her, but she was cross and out of humour. "I will give it to Mr. William when he comes in to-morrow!" she grumbled; "I never saw such bad behaviour in my life, leaving us to go home by ourselves at this time of night. There, do stop a minute, Kate; how fast you are walking. I thought I saw one of them then," and Marion stopped and looked round.
But no one was to be seen; indeed, the street seemed to be deserted, for no one was about but themselves, and, their footsteps ringing sharp and clear on the hard, frosty ground, seemed to fill Kate with terror again.
"Oh, pray do make haste, Marion," she cried, in a half-suppressed tone, as though she was afraid of the sound of her own voice.
"Oh, all right, you need not be in such a fright. I suppose you were never out late at night before," said Marion.
"Not so late as this, and by myself too," said Kate.
"Oh, well, we shan't be long," and Marion hurried on now, and in a few minutes they had reached the well-remembered street—quiet now, for a wonder, as it seemed to Kate, and she began to breathe more freely.
The shop was shut up, of course, but Mrs. Maple came to let them in almost as soon as they had rung the bell. "Has your father gone?" she said in some surprise, at seeing the girls by themselves.
"Yes, ma'am; he has gone to take a friend home," said Marion, quickly.
They went straight up to bed, and Kate put her bag into her box, where she usually kept it, without thinking of the buns that were left.
"I'm so glad it is over and we are safe at home again," said Kate with a sigh of relief.
"I hope we shall soon have another treat just like it," said Marion, thinking of her new friends.