"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!"