ccasion when she had seen a light shining under a door, and had
_not_ flown in a frenzy of fear to save those inside. "I crept down the
passage, and then I knew that the smell of burning was coming from Dan's
room. I knocked, but he didn't answer, and the light grew so bright
that I got frightened, and I rushed in and snatched the paper out of his
hand, and beat out the flames." Her face, which had been very flushed,
was now deadly white. "I think I will go back to bed now," she said
faintly, "I am dreadfully tired."

And dreadfully tired she was too, thoroughly exhausted and overcome.
Kitty helped her to her room and tucked her in her bed, and as she was
bending over her, Anna raised her usually restless eyes to her very
pleadingly.

"Kitty, you must let me have my own way, or I shan't feel that I've done
anything towards--towards wiping out--you know what I mean."

"I know," said Kitty. "We won't talk any more about it to-night.
We will wait until to-morrow. Good-night, Anna," and for the first time
in her life she kissed Anna willingly.

CHAPTER XIV.

MOKUS AND CARROTS.

Kitty heard Dan go downstairs the next morning just as she was finishing
dressing, and her heart thumped painfully, for she knew he was going to
confess. When confessions had to be made Dan always made them as
quickly as possible so as to get them off his mind. Kitty hurriedly
finished her dressing, and followed him with some vague idea in her mind
of helping him.

But when they got down there was no one else about, and before they had
seen any one to whom to confess, Mrs. Pike burst into the dining-room
where they stood, miserably enough, waiting.

"Kitty, Dan, do either of you know where your father is? I want him to
come to Anna. She is so unwell, and in some extraordinary way has burnt
her hands dreadfully. Oh dear! oh dear! what troubles do come upon me.
I suppose it was foolish of me to leave her last night to put herself to
bed when she was so tired. I might have known she would tumble over the
lamp, or do something equally careless. It was kind of you, Kitty, to
attend to her burns for her, poor child, but you should have come and
called me." There were tears in Aunt Pike's eyes as she turned to thank
her niece. "You--she--Anna need not have been afraid. I did not know I
was so harsh with her that she was afraid to--" and poor Aunt Pike broke
off, quite overcome. The shock of finding Anna feverish and ill, and