A Bunch of Cherries: A Story of Cherry Court School. Meade L. T.

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      "But, Kitty, can you bear to be with them just now?"

      "I can't be alone," said Kitty, with a little piteous smile. She ran out again into the summer sunshine. Mrs. Clavering stood and watched her.

      "Poor little girl," she said to herself, "and she does not know the worst, nor half the worst, for I had a long letter from Major Sharston this morning, and he told me that not only was he obliged to go to India, but that he had lost so large a sum of money that he could not afford to keep Kitty here after this term. She is to go to Scotland to live with an old cousin; she must give up all chance of being properly educated. Poor little Kitty! I wonder if he mentioned that in the telegram, and she is so proud, too, and has so much character; it is a sad, sad pity."

      Meanwhile Kitty once more returned through the orchard. She began to sing a gay song to herself. She had a very sweet voice, and was carolling wild notes now high up in the air – "Begone, dull care; you and I shall never agree."

      The girls sitting under the finest of the cherry trees heard her as she sang.

      "There can't be much wrong with her," said Mary Bateman, with a sigh of relief. "Hullo, Kitty, no bad news, I hope?"

      "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."

      "Oh, I am having a bad time," said Kitty; "don't you suppose that I am not suffering. I am suffering horribly, but I won't let anybody know – that is, if I can help it. I am not going to damp the pleasure of the others; you know that father is going, and I am his only child. He is coming just once to say good-bye to me; yes, he promises me that even in the telegram. He will come in about a fortnight from now, just a week before the Cherry Feast. Oh, I am miserable, I am miserable!"

      All of a sudden the poor child's composure gave way, she covered her face with her trembling hands, and burst into a great flood of weeping.

      A look of relief crossed Mrs. Clavering's face.

      "Now she will be better," she said to herself; "she will understand what I have to say to her better. Shall I say it to her now or shall I wait until the morning? It is very hard; perhaps she had better know all at once."

      So Mrs. Clavering led the weeping girl to the nearest sofa, and presently she stole her arm round her waist, and coaxed her to lay her head on her shoulder, and by and by she kissed the tired, flushed little face.

      Kitty, who had the most loving heart in the world, returned her embrace, and nestled close to her, and felt in spite of herself a little better than she had done before.

      "I know it is very bad, dear," said Mrs. Clavering, "but we can talk about it now if you like."

      "I don't know that there is anything to say," said Kitty; "he would not have gone but for – "

      "But for what, my child!"

      "But for that dreadful money. He was very anxious when he sent me here. Oh, perhaps, I ought not to say anything about it."

      "I think you may, Kitty, for I know, dear. I had a long letter from your father this morning. He told me then news which I considered very sad. You know, my love, that this is an expensive school. All the girls who come here pay well; most of the girls who are here have rich fathers and mothers."

      "Oh, I know that," interrupted Kitty; "and how I hate rich fathers and mothers! Why should only rich people have nice things?"

      "Then you do like this school, don't you, my love?"

      "As much as I could like any place away from father; but what did he say this morning, Mrs. Clavering?" Kitty started restlessly and faced her governess as she spoke.

      "He said, dear, that he must go to India because he had lost a very large sum of money. He said he would send you a telegram as soon as he had made arrangements, as there was no good troubling you before. He thought it best you should know by telegram, as the sight of the telegram itself would slightly prepare you for the bad news. But, my dear little Kitty, in some ways there is worse to follow, for your father cannot afford to pay my fees, and you must leave Cherry Court School at the end of this term."

      Kitty sat silent. This last news, very bad in itself, scarcely affected her at first. It seemed a mere nothing compared to the parting from her beloved father.

      "Yes," she said at last, in a listless voice, "I must leave here."

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