Elma paused at No. 124 Constantine Road. As she did so, a high, rasping, and fretful voice screamed to her from an upper window:
"You are later than ever to-day, Elma, and mother has been fretting herself into hysterics. Do come in at once and be quick about it."
Elma mounted the two or three steps which led to the hall door, and pulled the bell with considerably more energy than was her wont. The sovereigns were in her pocket; they made all the difference to her between misery and happiness. She entered the house in high good-humor.
"What is it, Carrie?" she called to the fretful voice, which was now approaching nearer.
The next moment a slatternly-looking girl appeared at the head of the stairs.
"It's very easy for you to ask what is it," cried its owner, speaking in high dudgeon. "You promised to be in between five and six, and it is now between seven and eight. Here is all my chance of an evening's fun knocked on the head. It's just like you, Elma; that it is."
"Oh, never mind now; please don't scold me," said Elma. "What is it--about mother; has she been bad again?"
"Oh, it's the usual thing; she has had one of those dismal letters from father. I can't imagine why she thinks anything about them. It came just when we were all sitting down to dinner, and she began to cry in that feeble sort of fashion."
"Oh, don't, Carrie; she will hear you," said Elma. "Pray go back to your room, and I'll be with you in a minute. I have something to tell you. You won't be quite so miserable when you hear my news."
Carrie stared at Elma, and then slowly backed until she reached a very minute bedroom which she and Elma shared together.
Elma ran briskly upstairs. Turning to her right, she knocked at a certain door; waited for an answer, but none came; then turned the handle and went in. The Venetian blinds were down here, and the form of a woman was seen lying in the center of a big bed.
"Is that you, Elma?" said a voice; and then the head was buried once more in the pillows, and no further notice whatever was taken.
"Yes, mother, I am here," answered Elma. "I was thinking you might like something nice for your supper--a crab or a lobster, or something of that sort. Which would be your preference, mother?"