once.'

"I went, and I was instantly engaged. I told my story in a few words,
and the lady believed me. Strange to say, she had a photograph taken
by my husband, with the name Ralph Chanter on the back. She remembered
him and the time when he was taking portraits here. Well, I served her
till she died, dear lady, and never returned to England till last week.
She has left me a legacy, which will enable me to set up a business,
and make a home for my child. You'll give her back to me, Mr. Boyd?"

Uncle Bobo's face was a study as he listened to this story, told
brokenly, and interrupted by many tears.

"It will be kind of hard," he said at last. "Yes, it will be _kind of
hard_," with desperate emphasis. "But," he said, heavily slapping his
leg, "I'll do what is just and right."

"I know you will, I know you will," Patience Harrison said; "but, oh! I
am so sorry for you, dear Uncle Bobo."

"Let me see my child," Maggie Chanter said. "Let me see her; and yet,
oh, how I dread it! Who will take me to her? Will you take me? Will
you tell the story, Mr. Boyd?"

"No, no, my dear, don't ask me; let Patience Harrison do it; let her.
I can't, and that's the truth."

Then Patience Harrison mounted the narrow stairs, and pausing at the
door said, "We must be careful, she is very weak."

Maggie bowed her head in assent, and then followed Patience into the
room.

"Oh, Goody, I am _so_ glad you are come!" and the smile on Joy's face
was indeed like a sunbeam. "Bet has not come yet. I don't like to vex
her, but she does blunder so. Susan calls her Blunder-buss; isn't that
funny of Susan?"

Then Joy turned her head, and caught sight of the figure on the
threshold.

"Why doesn't she come in?" Joy said; "she looks very kind; and see what
flowers and plums the girls have brought me as they went to school!"

"Joy, darling Joy," Patience said, "you have often said you wished you
had known your mother."

"Have I? You are like my mother now."

"But what if I were to tell you your very own mother is come, Joy?"
And then, pointing to Maggie, she said, "There she is!"

The excitement and agitation was all on one side. The mother tried in
vain to conceal her deep emotion. Joy, on the contrary, was quite
calm, and said, looking at Patience--

"Is it true? _is_ this my mother?"

"Yes, yes; your poor unhappy mother. Can you love her, little Joy?
Can you forgive her for leaving you to Mr. Boyd?"

"Why, yes," Joy