“Of course she need, dear. Why should she not? You have nothing to fear from her knowing it. When you deny the guilt there will be an inquiry into the matter, of course, so that it must come to the knowledge of, at any rate, the elder girls and the parents, and Anna will be amongst the elder ones, I suppose. At any rate she is as tall as you are, and in your class.”
“As tall as you are.” The words struck Kitty with a new suggestiveness. 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.