air
about her, from the waves of her soft golden brown hair to the bottom of
her tailor-made gown, that was not often seen in this little
Western village.

Joyce saw herself glancing admiringly at Cousin Kate, and then pulling
down her dress as far as possible, painfully conscious that her shoes
were untied, and white with dust. The next picture was several days
later. She and Jack were playing mumble-peg outside under the window by
the lilac-bushes, and the little mother was just inside the door,
bending over a pile of photographs that Cousin Kate had dropped in her
lap. Cousin Kate was saying, "This beautiful old French villa is where I
expect to spend the winter, Aunt Emily. These are views of Tours, the
town that lies across the river Loire from it, and these are some of the
chateaux near by that I intend to visit. They say the purest French in
the world is spoken there. I have prevailed on one of the dearest old
ladies that ever lived to give me rooms with her. She and her husband
live all alone in this big country place, so I shall have to provide
against loneliness by taking my company with me. Will you let me have
Joyce for a year?"

Jack and she stopped playing in sheer astonishment, while Cousin Kate
went on to explain how many advantages she could give the little girl to
whom she had taken such a strong fancy.

Looking through the lilac-bushes, Joyce could see her mother wipe her
eyes and say, "It seems like pure providence, Kate, and I can't stand in
the child's way. She'll have to support herself soon, and ought to be
prepared for it; but she's the oldest of the five, you know, and she has
been like my right hand ever since her father died. There'll not be a
minute while she is gone, that I shall not miss her and wish her back.
She's the life and sunshine of the whole home."

Then Joyce could see the little brown house turned all topsy-turvy in
the whirl of preparation that followed, and the next thing, she was
standing on the platform at the station, with her new steamer trunk
beside her. Half the town was there to bid her good-by. In the
excitement of finding herself a person of such importance she forgot how
much she was leaving behind her, until looking up, she saw a tender,
wistful smile on her mother's face, sadder than any tears.

[Illustration: WHERE JOYCE LIVED]

Luckily the locomotive whistled just then, and the novelty of getting
aboard a train for the first time, helped her to be brave at