Kathie's heart was fairly won. There were tears in Miss Clotilda's eyes as she stooped to kiss her.
'But they are not unkind to you at school, dear?' she said. 'If you are ever ill, for instance.'
'Oh, no, they are kind enough; but it's different—not the least like home. I can understand better already what other girls who can remember their homes meant when they said so. Philippa Harley, you know, aunty—oh no, of course you don't know; but I'll tell you about her. She has always been with her mother till lately, and she was always saying how different home was.'
Martha had by this time disappeared. Miss Clotilda sat down by the bed-side, while Kathie proceeded to eat her breakfast, chattering in the intervals.
'You make me very happy, dear Kathie, when you say you have already a home feeling with me,' said Miss Clotilda—'very happy, and,' with the sigh that Kathleen was at no loss to translate, 'very unhappy.'
For a few moments neither spoke. Then Kathleen began again.
'Aunty, even though the house isn't going to be yours any more, or ours, you'll show us all the things in it, won't you?'
'Certainly, my dear. I want you to know it well, and to remember it always,' Miss Clotilda replied.
Kathie's glance just then fell on the lace frills of her night-gown, and thence strayed to the half-open cupboard.