"Your gran'pop said it, and your uncles said it when you were out with Bevy. You are to study here till you are through with the highest class, then you are to go away. Your uncle will find a school: he will send us catalogues and he will give us advice."
Katy clasped her hands.
"I do not deserve it!"
"You said you prayed for it," reminded Grandmother Gaumer.
"But I prayed without faith," confessed Katy. "I did not believe for one little minute it would ever come true in this world!"
"Well," said Grandmother Gaumer, "it is coming true."
Here for once was bliss without alloy, here was a rapture without reaction. Christmas entertainments, at which one did well, ended; there was no outlook from them, and it was the same with perfect recitations in school. But this was different. One had the moment's complete joy, one had also something much better.
"I must study," planned Katy. "I must learn. I must make"—alas, that one's joy should be another's bitter trial!—"I must make that teacher learn me everything he knows!"
It was dusk when Grandfather Gaumer came home.