ection was a little mosaic pin for her Cousin Hetty. "I got that
in Venice," said Betty. "Cousin Hetty hasn't a single piece of jewelry to
her name, and she never gets any presents but plain, useful things, so I
am sure she will be pleased."

Lloyd turned away, thinking of the great contrast between her gifts and
Betty's, and wishing that she had not made such a display of hers.

"If I were in Betty's place," she said to herself, "I'd be so jealous of
me that I could hardly stand it. She's just a little orphan alone in the
world, and I have mothah and Papa Jack and Hero and Tarbaby for my very
own."

But the Little Colonel need not have wasted any sympathy on Betty. While
one stowed away her expensive presents in her trunk, the other wrapped up
her little souvenirs, humming softly to herself. It would have been hard
to find anywhere in the queen's dominion, a happier child than Betty, as
she sat beside her trunk, thinking of the beautiful journey with Cousin
Carl, just ending, and the life awaiting her at Locust with her godmother
and the Little Colonel. There was only one cloud on her horizon, and that
was the parting with Eugenia and her father.

That last evening they spent together in the private parlour adjoining
Mrs. Sherman's room. Early after dinner Lloyd and her father went down to
pay a visit to Hero, and see that he was properly cared for. He had had a
hard time since reaching England, for the laws regarding the quarantining
of dogs are strict, and it had taken many shillings on Mr. Sherman's part
and some tears on the Little Colonel's to procure him the privileges he
had.

"The whole party will be glad when he is safely landed in Kentucky, I am
sure," said Mrs. Sherman, as the door closed after them. "I'd never
consent to take another dog on such a journey, after all the trouble and
expense this one has been. Lloyd is so devoted to him that she is
heartbroken if he has to be tied up or made uncomfortable in any way.
She'll probably come up-stairs in tears to-night because he wants to
follow her, and must be kept a prisoner."

While they waited for her return, Mrs. Sherman drew Eugenia into her room
for a last confidential talk, and Betty, nestling beside Cousin Carl on
the sofa, tried to thank him for all his fatherly kindness to her on their
long pilgrimage together. But he would not let her put her gratitude in
words. His answer was the same that it had been that last night of the
house party, when,