There was Miss Hammond, of course, for her to confide in, and Miss Hammond would have been told some of the worries by-and-by, but deep down in Miss Pidsley’s heart lurked a little pain, a little trouble that Miss Hammond’s advice could never lessen.  Miss Hammond was attractive, charming, genial, and every one liked her; the girls all adored her.  Miss Pidsley was not attractive, and she had not a genial manner, and she told herself that nobody cared for her, and that the girls feared and disliked her.  And, unfortunately, this feeling, which hurt her cruelly, made her withdraw herself more and more from all but what one might call the business part of the life, and so gave the girls a real reason for feeling towards her as they did.

Fortunately Kitty had not known Miss Pidsley long enough to realize how very unlike herself she was now, so she was not at all embarrassed, but only intensely full of a desire to help.

“Miss Pidsley,” she said, after a moment’s pause, “if you would let me, I will write to father and ask him if he knows of any girls that would do for you.  He often does hear of servants wanting places—­nice ones too.  You see, he knows so many poor people.”

Miss Pidsley looked up surprised.  She had never thought of Kitty as a possible helper in her dilemma.  “It is very kind of you, Katharine, to think of it,” she said warmly.  “I should indeed be most grateful to your father if he could help me.  He would know that the girls were respectable and nice.  But I really do not like to trouble him, he is such a busy man.”

“Oh, father wouldn’t think it a trouble.  I will write to-night,” said Kitty, delighted at the prospect of being able to help.  “I wish you had been with us this afternoon, Miss Pidsley; you would have enjoyed it so.  We had a lovely time.”

“I wish I had,” said Miss Pidsley.  “At any rate I should have had some tea, which is more than I got at home.”

“No tea!” Kitty was shocked.  No wonder she found her mistress tired and overdone.  “Shall I tell them to get you some now?” she asked, moving towards the door.

“Oh no!” cried Miss Pidsley, alarmed.  “I would not ask for anything while matters are in such a state in the kitchen.”  Then she laughed with some embarrassment at her confession of fear.

“I will go and take off my things now,” said Kitty, and she left rather abruptly and ran quickly to her room.

The throwing off of her hat and coat occupied less than a minute; then, taking out from a tin box a spirit-lamp and kettle, she filled the latter and put it on to boil.  That done, she ran softly down the stairs to the pantry.  Fortunately for her, Nellie, the schoolroom maid, was there alone.  Nellie, who was an easy-going, good-tempered girl, had been the pleased recipient of the discarded gray stockings, and had ever since showed a gratitude which was beyond Kitty’s comprehension, for in her opinion it was she who had most cause to be grateful.  To Nellie Kitty explained her wants, and after a brief, whispered consultation she was soon speeding back with a little jug of milk, some tea in a small teapot, and a plate of biscuits on a tray.  In her room she had a pretty teacup of her own, which she meant to use.