ntenance
and an abrupt bow.

If it hadn't been for Jack, Kitty would have burst into tears then and
there, so terrible was the sense of humiliation which oppressed her.
For his sake she controlled herself, and, bundling up her torn train,
set her teeth, stared straight before her, and let him lead her in
dead silence to a friend's room near by. There he locked the door, and
began to comfort her by making light of the little mishap. But Kitty
cried so tragically, that he was at his wit's end, till the ludicrous
side of the affair struck her, and she began to laugh hysterically.
With a vague idea that vigorous treatment was best for that feminine
ailment, Jack was about to empty the contents of an ice-pitcher over
her, when she arrested him, by exclaiming, incoherently,--

"Oh, don't!--it was so funny!--how can you laugh, you cruel boy?--I'm
disgraced, forever--take me home to Pris, oh, take me home to Pris!"

"I will, my dear, I will; but first let me right you up a bit; you
look as if you had been hazed, upon my life you do;" and Jack laughed
in spite of himself at the wretched little object before him, for
dust, dancing, and the downfall produced a ruinous spectacle.

That broke Kitty's heart; and, spreading her hands before her face,
she was about to cry again, when the sad sight which met her eyes
dispelled the gathering tears. The new gloves were both split up the
middle and very dirty with clutching at the steps as she went down.

"Never mind, you can wash them," said Jack, soothingly.

"I paid a dollar and a half for them, and they can't be washed,"
groaned Kitty.

"Oh, hang the gloves! I meant your hands," cried Jack, trying to keep
sober.

"No matter for my hands, I mourn my gloves. But I won't cry any more,
for my head aches now so I can hardly see." And Kitty threw off her
bonnet, as if even that airy trifle hurt her.

Seeing how pale she looked, Jack tenderly suggested a rest on the old
sofa, and a wet handkerchief on her hot forehead, while he got the
good landlady to send her up a cup of tea. As Kitty rose to comply
she glanced at her dress, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed,
tragically,--"The facing, the fatal facing! That made all the
mischief, for if I'd sewed it last night it wouldn't have ripped
to-day; if it hadn't ripped Fletcher wouldn't have got his foot in it,
I shouldn't have made an object of myself, he wouldn't have gone off
in a rage, and--who knows what might have happened?"

"B