"I shall be so homesick!
It will kill me; I know it will.
Please let me stay.
Please let me go home with you."
"Now, my darling," protested Mr. Page, "this is foolish; you know it is."
"I can't help it," blubbered Lilly.
"I ca—n't help it.
Oh! don't make me go.
Don't, papa dear.
I ca—n't bear it."
Katy and Clover felt embarrassed during this scene.
They had always been used to considering tears as things to be rather ashamed of,— to be kept back, if possible; or, if not, shed in private corners, in dark closets, or behind the bed in the nursery.
To see the stylish Lilly crying like a baby in the midst of a railway carriage, with strangers looking on, quite shocked them.
It did not last long, however.
The whistle sounded; the conductor shouted,
"All aboard!" and Mr. Page, giving Lilly a last kiss, disengaged her clinging arms, put her into the seat beside Clover, and hurried out of the car.
Lilly sobbed loudly for a few seconds; then she dried her eyes, lifted her head, adjusted her veil and the wrists of her three- buttoned gloves, and remarked,—
"I always go on in this way.
Ma says I am a real cry-baby; and I suppose I am.
I don't see how people can be calm and composed when they're leaving home, do you?
You'll be just as bad to-morrow, when you come to say good-by to your papa."
"Oh! I hope not," said Katy.
"Because papa would feel so badly."
Lilly stared.
"I shall think you real cold-hearted if you don't," she said, in an offended tone.
Katy took no notice of the tone; and before long Lilly recovered from her pettishness, and began to talk about the school.
Katy and Clover asked eager questions.
They were eager to hear all that Lily could tell.
"You'll adore Mrs. Florence," she said.
"All the girls do.
She's the most fascinating woman!
She does just what she likes with everybody.
Why, even the students think her perfectly splendid, and yet she's just as strict as she can be."
"Strict with the students?" asked Clover, looking puzzled.
"No; strict with us girls.
She never lets any one call, unless it's a brother or a first cousin; and then you have to have a letter from you parents, asking permission.
I wanted ma to write and say that George Hickman might call on me.
He isn't a first cousin exactly, but his father married pa's sister-in-law's sister.
So it's just as good.
But ma was real mean about it.
She says I'm too young to have gentlemen coming to see me!
I can't think why.
Ever so many girls have them, who are younger than I." "Which Row are you going to room in?" she went on.
"I don't know.
Nobody told us that there were any rows."
"Oh, yes! Shaker Row and Quaker Row and Attic Row.
Attic Row is the nicest, because it's highest up, and furthest away from Mrs. Florence.
My room is in Attic Row.
Annie Silsbie and I engaged it last term.
You'll be in Quaker Row, I guess.