sometimes I cry, and that makes me feel so fresh and strong and ready to go on again.
I do try to be good, and don't ask for any reward but to see you look proud and pleased when I come home. I'd give any thing if I could hug you now and then, because you don't mind if I tumble your collar: madam does, and that spoils the fun of it. Kissing is a kind of inspiration, you know; and one doesn't stop to think of clothes when one is so full of love, it must spill over in kisses.
That sounds sentimental, but I'm not going to take it out, because you'll understand what I mean, and won't laugh. That's the comfort of private letters, isn't it?
Now, good-by, my dearest mother. Lots of love to papa, and do both write soon to your own little Puss.
Just as Kitty was folding it up, madam came by, and quite mechanically held out her hand for it, as she used to do.
Kitty caught it back, and then blushed and looked distressed; for madam said gravely, as she remembered the new rule,—
"I beg your pardon, I forgot. Seal it up, my dear; I won't ask to read your secrets any more."
Kitty saw that she was hurt, and with an impulsive gesture thrust the letter into madam's hand, saying bravely, though she quaked a little at some of the things she had written,—
