lt and expressed for suffering Kat,
who had vanished beyond the power of sight or search, when at eight
o'clock, a merry party halted at the gate, and the home girls, gayly
escorted Kittie and her baskets down the walk.

That was a dismal morning to be sure. Kat did her portion of the work
before any of the other girls came up stairs, and no one saw her again
that morning, for with a volume of history, "St. Elmo," and six apples,
she departed for the back roof, where she sat down and cried as hard as
ever she could for five minutes, then opened the history, and took a
fierce bite out of the biggest apple.

"There, I won't cry another tear, it's a blessing that I wasn't shut up
for the day, instead of being allowed to roam around, when I can't let
things alone that I'm told to. I'm going to learn a chapter of this
history, now, before I read a word of 'St. Elmo,' though I don't see the
use. Whatever do I care about the Edwards' and Henrys' and all that!"
And then Kat shook herself, opened her book, and valiantly attacked
Henry the Fifth, with every possible intention of doing just exactly
what she said; but in about ten minutes a little puff of wind sailed
across the roof, tossed open the cover of 'St. Elmo,' fluttered the
leaves, then flew away, leaving them open, just where Edna goes to the
old church for the last time, and Kat's eyes strayed right down to the
tempting words, and somehow they did not come back at once.

That old roof was just like all the rest of the house, roomy, shady and
cool. The flourishing top of a huge apple-tree reached over one side of
it, with tempting seats in its boughs, and on another side, was the wide
roomy window, with its worn sill, that led into the garret of the main
part of the house. Solid comfort had it always been to the girls, and
sometimes on warm Sunday afternoons, all the family might be found,
distributed over its flat, roomy surface, with old comforts and pillows,
and a good supply of books and fans.

Crash! went something suddenly and away sailed "St. Elmo," to bump his
villainously fascinating head against the chimney, while Kat jerked her
history open again and heard the profoundest and most melancholy sigh.

"What's the use! 'Henry the Fifth was born,'--I wonder who cares, dear
me, I wish Kittie was here! 'Was born on'"--But, as if in answer to that
wish so heartily uttered, there came two arms around her neck, and
there was Kittie, laughing gayly as she nodded her