s too bad you can't enjoy it like the rest of us," he said,
sympathetically.

"I am enjoying it with all my heart, Cousin Carl," protested Betty. "I
have raised my shade half a dozen times and taken a quick glance around,
and the music is so sweet, and everybody comes up and says nice things
to me. I would be perfectly happy if I didn't keep thinking that this is
the last of our good times together, and in a little while I shall have
to say good-bye to Eugenia and Joyce. You know I never knew any girls
before," she added, confidentially, "and you can't imagine how much I
have enjoyed them."

"Come, walk down to the gate with me," said Mr. Forbes, presently; "I
have something to tell you." She lifted her shade an instant as they
started down the long arch of light, and gave one quick glance down the
entire way. "Isn't it glorious!" she exclaimed. "It looks as if it might
be the road to the City of the Shining Ones!"

Then with a sigh she dropped her shade, and, slipping her hand into
his, let him lead her, as she walked along with closed eyes.

"You are an appreciative little puss," he said, smiling.

As they walked on under the glowing arch, hand in hand, he told her that
he was coming back for her in the fall; that Eugenia wanted her to go
abroad with them, and that he thought such an arrangement would be good
for both the girls. Good for Eugenia, because otherwise she would often
be left for days at a time with only Eliot for a companion, when he was
away on business. Good for Betty, since she could be enjoying the
advantages of travel at a time when she could not be using her eyes to
study.

"You shall see Abbotsford," he said, "and Burns's country, and go to
Shakespeare's home. And you shall coach among the English lakes where
Wordsworth learned to write. Then there is Rome, on her seven hills, you
know, and the canals of Venice and the Dutch windmills and the Black
Forest. You shall hear the legends of all the historic rivers you cross
and mountains you climb, and listen to the music of the Norwegian
waterfalls. Don't you think it will help you to be a better tale-teller
for the children, some day, my little 'Tusitala?'

"You see your godmother has been telling me some of your secrets and
showing me some of your poems and stories. What do you say, Betty? Will
you go?"

"Will I go?" cried Betty, joyfully, holding his hand tight in both her
own and pressing it lovingly to her cheek. "Oh, Cousin Carl! You mig