After luncheon she found her hat and coat for herself, let herself out of the house, and walked to Mrs.Kitson's, and was shown into the wide, untidy drawing-room, where books and flowers and papers had a lost and strayed air as though a violent wind had blown through the place and disturbed everything.
Mrs.Kitson came in.
"_You_, dear ?" she said.
Sarah looked at the room and then at Mrs.Kitson.Her eyes said: "_What_ a place! _What_ a woman! _What_ a fool!" "Yes, I've come to explain about Mary." "About Mary ?" "Yes.

It's my fault that she's ill.

I took a ring out of that little table there--the gold ring with the red stone--and I made her promise not to tell.

It's because she thinks she ought to tell that she's ill." "_You_ took it?
_You_ stole it ?" Before Mrs.Kitson's simple mind an awful picture was now revealed.

Here, in this little girl, whom she had preferred as a companion for her beloved Mary, was a thief, a liar, and one, as she could instantly perceive, without shame.
"You _stole_ it!" "Yes; here it is." Sarah laid the ring on the table.
Mrs.Kitson gazed at her with horror, dismay, and even fear.
"Why?
Why?
Don't you know how wrong it is to take things that don't belong to you ?" "Oh, all that!" said Sarah, waving her hand scornfully.