d 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