Fathers and mothers appeared constantly to visit their daughters, and questions that had never troubled her heart before arose to vex her.

Why was it, when these other girls, flung together from all parts of the country, were so blest with kindred, that she had literally but one kinsman, the grandfather on whom all her love centred?
It should not be thought, however, that she yielded herself morbidly to these reflections, but such little things as the receipt of gifts, the daily references to home affairs, the photographs set out in the girls' rooms, were not without their stab.

She wrote to Professor Kelton:-- "I wish you would send me your picture of mother.

I often wondered why you didn't give it to me; won't you lend it to me now?
I think it is put away in your desk in the library.

Almost all the girls have pictures of their families--some of them of their houses and even the horse and dog--in their rooms.