but Littletown----"

"Why not drop the w?"

"And make it Littleton? Well, why not? I rather like that! It seems
impersonal; it explains nothing."

"Except its smallness," laughed the lawyer, "and that would be apparent
anyhow, I suppose."

She laughed with him.

"I'm afraid so. Yes, I believe it will do. Littleton! It really suits
me."

"There! Didn't I tell you? I've named your model town already; I shall
be galloping side by side with you before you know it. Off with you now,
hobby and all!"

But she passed out smiling and satisfied. When Mr. Barrington took that
tone she knew he was the old friend again, and not the legal adviser;
and much as she respected the lawyer, she far preferred the friend,
to-day.

CHAPTER II.

OLD FRIENDS.

Miss Lavillotte descended in the elevator and hurried out to her waiting
brougham, and stopped an instant with her foot on the step, to turn a
kindly, inquiring gaze upon the elderly coachman, who held the door open
before her. An amused twinkle grew in his honest eyes as he gravely
responded to the glance with the words, "No, Miss Joyce, I'm not tired
nor cold--where next?"

"If you are certain, Gilbert; but it was a good while, and"--"It's mild
and pleasant to-day, Miss Joyce."

"Well, it's good of you to think so. Then drive to the Bonnivels, and I
won't be so long this time."

"Take all the time you want, Miss Joyce."

He gently shut the door upon her and, mounting to the box, drove
carefully away through the thronged streets, turning westward and
leaving the neighborhood of legal offices to plunge into the somewhat
unsavory precincts given over to markets and fruit venders, passing
which, he gradually emerged into the less frequented lengths of avenue
leading far out into the suburbs. It was a long and not too pleasant
drive, but Joyce Lavillotte was too busy with her thoughts to mind, and
Gilbert Judson too intent upon the safe guidance of her spirited team to
care. The dreamer inside was indeed surprised when he stopped and,
glancing out, she saw they had reached their destination.

It was a corner house, frame-built, and of a comfortable, unfashionable
aspect, set down in a square which showed its well-kept green even in
winter. The lace-hung windows were broad, sunny and many paned, and a
gilded cage flashed back the light in one of them. Joyce flung it an
eager glance of expectancy and ran lightly up the steps of the square
porch, as if overjoyed t