t it has not a foreign stamp."

"Oh, from Cousin Kate!" exclaimed Joyce, tearing it open as she went
back to her room. At the door she stooped to pick up a piece of paper
that had dropped from the envelope. It crackled stiffly as she
unfolded it.

"Money!" she exclaimed in surprise. "A whole twenty franc note. What
could Cousin Kate have sent it for?" The last page of the letter
explained.

"I have just remembered that December is not very far off,
and that whatever little Christmas gifts we send home should
soon be started on their way. Enclosed you will find twenty
francs for your Christmas shopping. It is not much, but we
are too far away to send anything but the simplest little
remembrances, things that will not be spoiled in the mail,
and on which little or no duty need be paid. You might buy
one article each day, so that there will be some purpose in
your walks into Tours.

"I am sorry that I can not be with you on Thanksgiving Day.
We will have to drop it from our calendar this year; not the
thanksgiving itself, but the turkey and mince pie part.
Suppose you take a few francs to give yourself some little
treat to mark the day. I hope my dear little girl will not be
homesick all by herself. I never should have left just at
this time if it had not been very necessary."

Joyce smoothed out the bank-note and looked at it with sparkling eyes.
Twenty whole francs! The same as four dollars! All the money that she
had ever had in her whole life put together would not have amounted to
that much. Dimes were scarce in the little brown house, and even pennies
seldom found their way into the children's hands when five pairs of
little feet were always needing shoes, and five healthy appetites must
be satisfied daily.

All the time that Joyce was pinning her treasure securely in her pocket
and putting on her hat and jacket, all the time that she was walking
demurely down the road with Marie, she was planning different ways in
which to spend her fortune.

"Mademoiselle is very quiet," ventured Marie, remembering that one of
her duties was to keep up an improving conversation with her
little mistress.

"Yes," answered Joyce, half impatiently; "I've got something so lovely
to think about, that I'd like to go back and sit down in the garden and
just think and think until dark, without being interrupted by anybody."

This was Marie's opportu