or the
programme for the Cherry Feast was to be publicly announced, and the
girls felt that there was further news in the air.

Immediately after early tea, between five and six o'clock, Mrs.
Clavering called Kitty into the oak parlor.

"My dear," she said, "I want to have a talk with you."

Some of the wild light had gone out of Kitty's eyes by this time, and
the flush had left her cheeks, leaving them somewhat pale.

"Yes, Mrs. Clavering," she said; "what is it?"

"I want you, my dear little girl, not to keep all your troubles to
yourself."

"But what am I to do?" said Kitty, standing first on one leg and then
on the other.

"Hold yourself upright in the first place, dear. After all, the laws
of deportment ought to be attended to, whatever one's trouble."

Kitty gave an impatient sigh.

"There you are," she exclaimed, "that's what makes you so very queer;
that's what makes it almost impossible for me to bear the restraint of
school. When--when your heart is almost breaking, what does it matter
how you stand?"

"My dear child, you will find in the events of life that it greatly
matters to learn self-control."

"I have self-control," said Kitty, with a quiver in her lips.

"Well, dear, I hope you will prove it, for I fear, I greatly fear, that
you are about to have a bad time."

"Oh, I am having a bad time," said Kitty; "don't you suppose that I am
not suffering. I am suffering horribly, but I won't let anybody
know--that is, if I can help it. I am not going to damp the pleasure
of the others; you know that father is going, and I am his only child.
He is coming just once to say good-bye to me; yes, he promises me that
even in the telegram. He will come in about a fortnight from now, just
a week before the Cherry Feast. Oh, I am miserable, I am miserable!"

All of a sudden the poor child's composure gave way, she covered her
face with her trembling hands, and burst into a great flood of weeping.

A look of relief crossed Mrs. Clavering's face.

"Now she will be better," she said to herself; "she will understand
what I have to say to her better. Shall I say it to her now or shall I
wait until the morning? It is very hard; perhaps she had better know
all at once."

So Mrs. Clavering led the weeping girl to the nearest sofa, and
presently she stole her arm round her waist, and coaxed her to lay her
head on her shoulder, and by and by she kissed the tired, flushed
little face.

Kitty, who had