across me, and sometimes one of mamma's letters would have in it so much
about Bobby and his play, and his prattle about Sissy's coming back,
that I grew a little home-sick and looked wistfully into grandmamma's
face as she read the letter. This would always make her say: "You don't
want to go home, little one? Aren't you very happy here with Lottie and
the boys? And you are getting on so nicely with your books, too; mamma
is so pleased to have you with so many little schoolfellows, and kind
Miss Grant to teach you! And we are going to have all kinds of pleasant
treats in the holidays. No, no, we must keep you another month or two!
Perhaps we will send you home when the cold weather comes!" So I ran
away again to make plans with Lottie about all the many things that must
be done the very first day of no lessons.

Then came the last time of history, and the last dreadful sums, and the
last copy written, and the last hard French words learnt, and then,
happiest of all, the last putting away of books and cleaning of slates!
It almost makes me take that long breath for joy even now only to
remember that happy day.

"And don't you think I'm the happiest of us all?" said Miss Grant; "I am
the only one really going home for the holidays!"

Which remark was a great relief to my little mind, for I had been afraid
we must seem a great deal too glad that she was going. Now I could
venture on my very loudest "hurrah," which, after all, was but a feeble
imitation of the boys' loud cheers.

You know, anticipation is the best part of every pleasure; in easier
words, everything looks brighter before it comes than when it _is_ come.
I think that was very nearly the happiest day of my whole year at