When Miss Kitty burst into tears the parson was a little astonished as
well as distressed. Men are apt to be so, not perhaps because women cry
on such very small accounts, as because the full reason does not always
transpire. Tears are often the climax of nervous exhaustion and this is
commonly the result of more causes than one. Ostensibly Miss Kitty was
"upset" by the loss of the diamond, but she also wept away a good deal
of the vexation of her unequal conflict with the sarcastic lawyer, and
of all this the parson knew nothing.

Miss Betty knew nothing of that, but she knew enough of things in
general to feel sure that the diamond was not all the matter.

"What is amiss, sister Kitty?" said she. "Have you hurt yourself? Do you
feel ill? Did you know the stone was out?"--"I hope you're not going to
be hysterical, sister Kitty," added Miss Betty anxiously; "there never
was a hysterical woman in our family yet."

"Oh dear no, sister Betty," sobbed Miss Kitty; "but it's all my fault. I
know I was fidgeting with it whilst I was talking; and it's a punishment
on my fidgety ways, and for ever presuming to wear it at all, when
you're the head of the family, and solely entitled to it. And I shall
never forgive myself if it's lost, and if it's found I'll never, never
wear it any more." And as she deluged her best company pocket-handkerchief
(for the useful one was in a big pocket under her dress, and could not be
got at, the parson being present), Church, State, the royal family, the
family Bible, her highest principles, her dearest affections, and the
diamond brooch, all seemed to swim before her disturbed mind in one sea
of desolation.

There was not a kinder heart than the parson's toward women and children