the full. She had a sort of notion,--an
ignorant, childish notion, but very real to her,--that it was wicked to
wear bows and hair-ribbons now.

She had been sitting so for some time, with her head in her aunt's lap,
quite silent, her eyes looking off through the window.

"Why not have a little singing?" said Mrs. Breynton, in her pleasant,
hushed voice;--it was always a little different somehow, Sunday nights;
a little more quiet.

Gypsy went to the piano, and usurped Winnie's throne on the stool, much
to that young gentleman's disgust.

"What shall it be, mother?"

"Joy's hymn, dear."

Gypsy began, without further explanation, to play a low, sweet prelude,
and then they sang through the hymn that Joy had learned and loved in
these few desolate weeks:

"There is an eye that never sleeps
Beneath the wing of night;
There is an ear that never shuts
When sink the beams of light.

"There is an arm that never tires
When human strength gives way--
There is a love that never fails
When earthly loves decay."

Joy tried to sing, but just there she broke down. Gypsy's voice faltered
a little, and Mrs. Breynton sang very softly to the end.

After that they were all still; Joy had hidden her face. Tom began to
hum over the tune uneasily, in his deep bass. A sudden sob broke into
it.

[Illustration]

"This is what makes it all so different."

"What, dear?"

"The singing, and the prayers, and the Sunday nights; it's been making
me think about being a good girl, ever since I've been here. We never
had any at home. Father--"

But she did not finish. She rose and went over to the western window,
away from the rest, where no one could see her face.

The light was dimming fast; it was nearly dark now, and the crickets
were chirping in the distant meadows.

Tom coughed, and came very near trying to whistle. Gypsy screwed the
piano-stool round with a sudden motion, and went over to where Joy
stood.

Tom and his mother began to talk in a low voice, and the two girls were
as if alone.

The first thing Gypsy did, was to put her arms round Joy's neck and kiss
her. Joy hid her face on her shoulder and cried softly. Then Gypsy
choked a little, and for a while they cried together.

"You see I _am_ so sorry," said Gypsy.

"I know it,--I know it. Oh, Gypsy, if I could see him _just one
minute_!"

Gypsy only gave her a little hug in answer. Then presently, as the best