The urn stood in a handy place of honor upon the desk itself as the Dean had been deciphering the inscriptions upon it.
"I hate to disturb you, Uncle Cassius," Kit began, with the directness so characteristic of her, "but I really think I ought to go back home.

You've been wonderful to give me such a long visit, and I've enjoyed the school work immensely, but somehow I begin to feel like a soldier who has been away on a furlough.

It's time for me to get back to the firing line, because mother needs me." The Dean glanced up in surprise, and came slowly out of his dream of concentration as the meaning of her words dawned upon him.
"Why, my dear child," he exclaimed, "this is very sudden.

There has never been any question about your going back, at least----" He coughed deprecatingly.

"Not since we became acquainted with you.