he winter was now drawing on. The short, bleak November days had come, with their chill winds and frosty mornings. Miss Hagar looked at the slight, delicate form and pale little face of her protegee, and began to talk of keeping her at home, instead of sending her to school during the winter months.
Celeste listened, and never dreamed of opposing her wishes, but stole away by herself, and shed the first selfish tears that had ever fallen from her eyes in her life. It was so pleasant in school, among so many happy young faces, and with the holy, gentle-voiced Sisters of Charity, and so unspeakably lonesome at home, with nothing to do but look out of the window at gray hills and leafless trees, and listen to the dreary sighing of the wind. Therefore Celeste grieved in silence, and strove to keep back the tears when in Miss Hagar's presence, lest she should think her an ungrateful, dissatisfied little girl.
One morning, however, as Miss Hagar entered the deserted parlor, she found Celeste sitting in the chimney-corner, her face hidden in her hands, sobbing gently to herself. A little surprised at this, for the child seemed always smiling and happy before her, Miss Hagar took her on her knee, and asked what was the matter.
"Nothing," replied Celeste, though her cheek glowed crimson red, as she felt she was not speaking the truth.
"People don't cry for nothing, child!" said the aged spinster, severely. "What's the matter?"
"Please, Miss Hagar, I'm so naughty, but—but—I don't want to leave school."
"Don't want to leave school? Why, child, you'd freeze to death going to school in the winter."
"But Minnette goes," pleaded Celeste.
"Minnette's not like you, little lily. She's strong and hardy, and doesn't mind the cold; it only brings living roses to her cheeks; but you, little whiff of down that you are, you'd blow away with the first winter breeze."