At last the great day arrived. Paula and I, up at sunrise, scurried to the window to look at the weather, and oh joy! It was a magnificent day without a cloud in the sky! A little later when Teresa arrived to call us, great was her surprise to find us all ready to start. "What a wonderful thing," she remarked dryly, "you'd never be late to school if you did this every morning." After the first moment of enthusiasm, Paula strangely enough began to lose little by little the happy atmosphere which usually surrounded her. I discovered soon the cause. She was thinking of Catalina. "It's going to be terribly lonely for her," she said. "Never fear," I said, "she can go another time." But she shook her head as if trying to throw off something painful that seemed to be on her mind. "Oh, Lisita, if you could but know how lonely Catalina will feel as she sees us go without her. When I took her breakfast to her yesterday and saw that she had been crying I simply could not bear the thought of leaving her at home alone." "But if papa says it is all right, it can't be so bad. Besides, father loves her as much as you do." Paula didn't answer me. Soon the time came to start. Teresa started calling to one and another. One had lost this thing, another had misplaced something else. My father scolded and helped, at the same time trying to get us off. Then Rosa wasn't ready and Louis, always unprepared, couldn't find his favorite blue necktie. At last we were ready. The only thing that remained was to say good-bye to Catalina. Louis, impatient to be off, performed that ceremony quickly; Rosa who had reserved a surprise for the invalid, put a new book into her hand as she kissed her; Teresa, as she embraced her in her turn, left many instructions; then, as Paula came forward, we heard a sob as she buried her face on my oldest sister's shoulder. "What's the matter now?" said my father. An unintelligible sound was heard; but Catalina understood and her eyes moistened with happiness. "Oh, father," she said, "I know; she's crying on my account, she doesn't want to leave me alone here." "Is that it, Paula?" questioned my father. "Yes, please leave me here, uncle, I shall be so happy to be at Catalina's side while you are gone." But Catalina refused this sacrifice, saying, "No, no, my dear little Paula. I'll not be lonely. You have too tender a heart. Now go, things will be all right here. Everything has been arranged for me, and it will make me happy to know of the good time you are all to have with our grandmother." My father didn't know what to do. The time was passing. "Come, Paula, come," he said; "it's time to go." Paula raised her head. "If you order me to go, I'll go, for I must obey you, and I know they are waiting for us. But if you will _permit_ me to stay"--and she put emphasis on the word _permit_ in her peculiarly irresistible manner--"I would be a whole lot happier here than in 'Las Lilas.'"