rutted down the garden looking very determined and important.
Her childlike face was undaunted, her little mouth set firm.

"It is my duty to all of us," she kept repeating to herself; "it really
is. I am not going to let Kitty bear the blame always. I know that
most people feel quite sure that she really did carry those letters, and
then wouldn't own up, but told stories about it, and Aunt Pike has never
been nice to her since, and Lady Kitson scarcely speaks to her, and Miss
Richards doesn't speak at all, and--and that mean Anna won't clear her,
and--"

"Well, Elizabeth, I have come to hear your explanations and apologies
for your shocking attack on Anna."

"It was Anna who attacked me," said Betty. "It was only when she called
me a pry and a spy that I--that I--"

"Hurled all sorts of wicked accusations at her. Oh, I heard you.
You said the most shocking and untrue things in your passion."

"I didn't say a word that wasn't true," said Betty firmly, "and--and
Anna knows it. Anna could have cleared Kitty, but she wouldn't, and I
am not going to let Kitty bear the blame for her and Lettice any longer;
and if they won't clear her, I will. Anna called me a sneak, and I said
she was mean and bad, and I meant it; and so she is, to let Kitty go on
bearing the blame and the disgrace all her life because she is too
honourable to tell how mean they are."

"Did you say that Anna knew who went to Lettice with that letter that
night, and that--it wasn't Kafcherine?" asked Aunt Pike, but so quietly
and strangely that Betty was really quite frightened by her curious
voice and manner.

"Oh, I wish I had not told," was the thought that rushed through her
mind, while her cheeks grew hot with nervousness. But it was too late
now to draw back; she must stick to her guns. "Yes," she said, but with
evident reluctance. "Ask Anna, please. I--I mustn't say any more.
Father wouldn't like--"

"Was it--Anna--herself?" asked Mrs. Pike, still in that strange low
voice, only it sounded stranger and farther away this time.

"Oh, I can't tell you! I can't tell you!" cried Betty, shrinking now
from telling the dreadful truth.

"There--is--no--need to," gasped Aunt Pike; but she spoke so low that
Betty hardly heard the words, and the next moment the poor, shocked,
stricken mother had slipped from her chair to the ground unconscious.

Betty saw her fall, and flew from the room screaming for help. Help was
not long in coming. Dr