es of happiness, stretching away to the remote limits of
the day's glory; a present rapture beyond knowledge, and a memory for
ever.

Mr. Woodstock stood within the gate of the garden, his hands in his
pockets, and as the vehicle came in sight he drew just a little back.

They streamed along the carriage-drive, and in a minute or two were all
clustered upon the lawn behind the house. What was expected of them?
Had an angel taken them by he hand and led them straight from Litany
Lane through the portals of paradise, they could not have been more
awed and bewildered. Trees and rose-bushes, turf and beds of flowers,
seats in the shade, skipping-ropes thrown about on the open--and there,
hark, a hand-organ, a better one than ever they danced to on the
pavement, striking up to make them merry. That was the happiest
thought! It was something not too unfamiliar; the one joyful thing of
which they had experience meeting them here to smooth over the first
introduction to a new world. Ida knew it well, the effect of that
organ; had it not lightened her heart many and many a time in the
by-gone darkness? Two of the girls had caught each other by the waist
at the first sounds. Might they? Would "the lady" like it?

Miss Hurst had come out as soon as the music began, and Ida ran to talk
with her. There was whispering between them, and pointing to one and
another of the children, and then the governess, with a pleased face,
disappeared again. She was away some time, but on her return two of the
children were called into the house. Bare-footed they went in, but came
forth again with shoes and stockings on, hardly able to comprehend what
had happened to them. Then were summoned those who had nothing on their
heads, and to each of these a straw hat was given, a less wonderful
possession than the shoes and stockings, but a source of gladness and
pride.

In the meantime, however, marvels had accumulated on the lawn. Whilst
yet the organ was playing, there appeared two men, one of them carrying
a big drum, the other hidden under a Punch and Judy show. Of a sudden
there sounded a shrill note, high above the organ, a fluting from the
bottom to the top of the gamut, the immemorial summons to children, the
overture to the primitive drama. It was drowned in a scream of welcome,
which, in its turn, was outdone by thunderous peals upon the drum.

Mr. Woodstock said little during the whole afternoon. Perhaps he
thought the more.

Tables had