Irish -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
"You are very good to me," said Kitty. "I don't mind what I do for those
I love. I suppose now you would wish me to learn my lessons perfectly
every day?"
"I certainly should."
"And to--to turn poor little Agnes Moore from the head of her class?"
"Well, Kitty, I cannot say anything about that. II you do better work
than Agnes Moore you will get to the head of the class and she will go
down; but I doubt your being able to do so, for Agnes is a very clever
and a very diligent little pupil. But I want you, dear, soon to get out
of that class, for it is a great deal too young for you. I want you to
be with girls of your own age. We are yet one month to the end of the
term. By the end of term I want to be able to tell you that you have got
a remove. And now, dear, good-by. Remember, I shall watch you, and--yes,
I shall pray for you."
"You are very good to me," repeated Kitty; and she walked out of Miss
Sherrard's presence with her head lowered, and a mist before her eyes.
For the next few days Kitty was strangely thoughtful. She did not speak
nearly so much as usual, she felt inclined to go away by herself, and
she was much puzzled about her talents. Miss Sherrard's words had made
quite a deep impression. She learned her lessons with care, and had
every chance, so her teachers told her, of a remove at the end of term.
Even Alice found less to say against her. Kitty began to look on her
school life as something roseate and delightful; but all these things
were to come to a speedy end.
On a certain afternoon she got home to find Alice out and Mrs. Denvers
seated in the drawing-room with a great basket of mending before her.
"Oh, what a lot of work! Would you like me to help you?" said Kitty.
"Very much, dear; but what kept you so late? Oh, here is a letter for
you."
"A letter!" cried Kitty eagerly. "Oh, it is from Laurie. Hurrah!
hurrah!"
She forgot all about her offer to help Mrs. Denvers with her darning,
tossed the letter in the air two or three times, and then sank down on
the nearest ottoman to read it. These were the words on which her eyes
rested:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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