"There is bad news, but I can't talk of it now," said Kitty. "Come, what shall we do? We need not stay under the trees any longer surely, need we? Let's have a right good game--blind man's buff, or shall we play hare and hounds." "Oh, it's much too hot for hare and hounds," said Edith King. "Well, let's do something," said Kitty; "we all ought to be very happy on a half-holiday, and I don't mean to be miserable. Now, then, start something. I'll go and hide. Now, who will begin?" Kitty laughed merrily; she glanced from one to the other of the girls, saw that their eyes were shining with a queer mixture of curiosity and sympathy, and felt that she would do anything in the world rather than gratify them. "After all," she said to herself, as she ran wildly across the cheery orchard, "poor old Tommy and I will have our holidays together, for at the very best, even if father has not lost that money, I will have to stay here during the holidays. Oh, father! oh, father! how am I to live without you? Oh, father, dear, this is too cruel! I know, I am certain you have lost the money, or you would not be going to India away from your own, own Kitty." She crushed down a sob, reached a little summer-house, into which she turned, pulled down some tarpaulin to cover her, and, crouching in the corner, lay still, her heart beating wildly. "Begone, dull care," she whispered stoutly under her breath; and then she added, with a sob in her voice, "whatever happens, I won't give in." That evening was a time of great excitement in the school, for the programme for the Cherry Feast was to be publicly announced, and the girls felt that there was further news in the air. Immediately after early tea, between five and six o'clock, Mrs. Clavering called Kitty into the oak parlor. "My dear," she said, "I want to have a talk with you." Some of the wild light had gone out of Kitty's eyes by this time, and the flush had left her cheeks, leaving them somewhat pale. "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."