to have Miss Hammond to
herself--she was so sympathetic and understanding, and so bright and
interesting. Kitty had never before met any one like her, and was
charmed.

"I will not say I want you two to be friends, or that I think you will
like each other, for I know that that is the surest way to make you
determine you never could, would, or should be. But I do think you will
like Pamela, and I thought it would be nice for you to get to know one
of your future companions a little before meeting them all together."

Kitty could not but agree. One stranger now, with Miss Hammond to break
the ice, was infinitely preferable to four by-and-by, when she would be
alone. And then came a knock at the door, and Pamela Peters walked in.

Pamela was a taller and altogether larger girl than Kitty. She looked
rather older too. Perhaps a certain air of self-possession gave one
that impression. Kitty gazed at her first with interest and then with
wonder, for she looked as smiling and happy as though she had just
reached home for the holidays, instead of returning to school for the
term. She had to check her surprise while Miss Hammond introduced them
and made room for Pamela at the table, but it soon returned again with
double force.

"I am very glad to see you," said Pamela heartily, turning to Kitty
again. "Isn't it jolly to be back?"

"Jolly!--what!--isn't it what?" stammered Kitty, at a loss to understand
her.

Miss Hammond laughed. "Kitty Trenire thinks it anything but jolly; her
heart is miles away from here; but I hope that in time she will find
something here to care for too." And even Kitty actually felt that in
time perhaps she might. In that cosy little room, and with those two
new friends, it did not seem so absolutely impossible; but when Kitty's
thoughts flew to Miss Pidsley, the bare, unhomelike room downstairs, and
the dreary road outside, her mind began to waver, and she felt anything
but hopeful.

"I _am_ so glad to be back," sighed Pamela, with genuine pleasure.
She was not exaggerating in the least--even Kitty could see that.
"But," she added, "if you have a nice home and people to leave, it must
be awfully hard. I expect it is what I feel at the end of term when I
have to leave here."

"Oh, it is much worse than that; it must be," gasped Kitty, her
astonishment overcoming her shyness. "But you are laughing. You really
love going home, of course?"

"No, I don't. I am miserable. You see,