This time, when she knocked, Miss Pidsley really did think she had come for her music lesson, and a little sigh again escaped her, a sigh which turned to an exclamation of real pleasure when she saw what Kitty was bringing her.

Cornish Kitty had forgotten all about sugar or a teaspoon, but Miss Pidsley needed her tea so badly she did not heed the omission, but sat down at once to enjoy to the full her little picnic meal.
When Kitty returned to her own room again she was surprised at herself for feeling so happy.

"School isn't _all_ bad," she said thoughtfully.
"I dare say I should get quite to like it in time." Then her eye fell on Betty's newly-arrived letter, and tearing it open, she read of all her woes and triumphs connected with the detested woollen stockings.

There was a long letter from Dan too, full of a sort of laughing sympathy as well as jokes and fun, but with here and there the strain of seriousness which so often astonished Dan's friends, and made him the dear, lovable old boy he was.
"It was rough on you," he wrote, "to pack you off to school like that, and jolly unfair too; and I expect you felt you would never smile again.
But you will, and before many weeks are gone by, too; and I do believe it is the best thing for both of us.

We didn't make any friends at home; there was no one we cared for, and we are such a funny, reserved crew--at least that's what they say here about me, and I believe I was the best of us--in that way, I mean.