II
AT BOARDING SCHOOL
One day my mother took me on her knees and said to me, " You are a big girl now, and you must learn to read and write." I was then seven years old, and could neither read, write, nor count, as I had been five years with the old nurse and two years ill. "You must go to school," continued my mother, playing with my curly hair, "like a big girl." I did not know what all this meant, and I asked what a school was.
"It's a place where there are many little girls," replied my mother.
"Are they ill?" I asked.
"Oh no! They are quite well, as you are now, and they play together, and are very gay and happy."
I jumped about in delight, and gave free vent to my joy, but on seeing tears in my mother's eyes I flung myself in her arms.
"But what about you, Mamma?" I asked. "You will be all alone, and you won't have any little girl."
She bent down to me and said: "God has told me that He will send me some flowers and a little baby."
My delight was more and more boisterous. "Then I shall have a little brother!" I exclaimed, "or else a little sister. Oh no, I don't want that; I don't like little sisters."
Mamma kissed me very affectionately, and then I was dressed, I remember, in a blue corded velvet frock, of which I was very proud. Arrayed thus in all my splendour, I waited impatiently for Aunt Rosine's carriage, which was to take us to Auteuil.
It was about three when she arrived. The housemaid had gone on about an hour before, and I had watched with delight my little trunk and my toys being packed into the carriage. The maid climbed up and took the seat by the driver, in spite of my mother protesting at first against this. When my aunt's
