Kate's Ordeal by Emma Leslie (latest books to read .TXT) 📗

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,