“Kitty was responsible, and there could not possibly be any excuse for her leaving the spot without her cousin,” declared Mrs. Pike.  “Kitty knew that there were many ways amongst which she might get lost, and how lonely it was, and she and Dan should have gone in search of poor Anna, and not have left the place until they had found her or heard for certain where she was.  The idea of coming all the way home without her, and with never a thought or a care as to what had become of her!  It was almost incredible!”

“I did think.  I did care,” pleaded Kitty.  “Of course I thought she was ahead of us.  I never dreamed that she could have lost her way, or of course I shouldn’t have come home without looking for her.”

“Then you should have dreamed, or have taken the trouble to find out.  In any case, you should not have left the spot without her.”

“But we really thought she was ahead of us,” repeated Kitty earnestly, “and we hurried on to pick her up.”

“How could you overtake her or pick her up, when you were hurrying as fast as you could away from her, leaving her alone, poor child, to wander about that dreadful, dreadful place, in that awful storm in the dead of night?” demanded Aunt Pike angrily.

“But—­” began Kitty, then realized the hopelessness of trying to explain, and said no more.

“For the future I shall always feel,” said Aunt Pike severely, “that I not only cannot trust you, Katherine, but that I can never know what mischief you may be leading the younger ones into.  I am sure they would not be so wild if they hadn’t you as a ringleader.”

Kitty’s cheeks flamed with indignation. She could not be trusted! She led the others into mischief!  Her eyes darkened with anger at the injustice, for all the trouble had been caused by Anna deciding, in her pig-headed way, that she knew a short cut home, and would take it without waiting for the others and the donkey.  She had thought she would get home first and be able to laugh at them and Mokus.  She herself had admitted as much.

Kitty’s mind travelled back over that night search—­the cold, the wet, the horror of it, her own exhaustion and Dan’s; then she came back again suddenly to the present, and Aunt Pike’s voice saying,—­

“You know, Katherine, I have had to overlook more than one serious piece of ill-behaviour on your part since I have been here.  Of course I put down much to the lawless, careless way in which you grew up, but, at the same time, I must admit that, after that very unpleasant episode with Lettice Kitson, I have never felt really quite easy in allowing Anna to be much with you.  I could not avoid feeling that you were having anything but a good influence over her, and but for your poor father’s sake—­”

Kitty’s cheeks were white enough now, and her eyes were very wide and full of indignation as she met her aunt’s stern gaze, but there was no fear or shame in them.  She opened her lips, but before a word escaped them she closed them again, hesitated, and then walked quickly away.  And the next thing she knew was that she was to be sent away, and when she heard it she thought her heart would break indeed.