f the
night, calling on 'Doyce! Doyce!' even in his dreams, poor little man!
It was the end of the second day when Mr. Early, looking decidedly
sheepish, reappeared with his little daughter--about this time, in fact.
I can see, even now, the look of perfect rest and happiness upon her
tear-stained little face as she nestled into my arms that evening, while
Leon and you, Dorette, fairly radiant with joy, bent above her. I never
saw one of you show one moment's jealousy, which was a bit odd, for
Joyce was an imperious baby, and exacted a great deal of my attention.
But how charming was her good-nature! That night she sat throned on my
knees, like a little princess, and patty-caked, threw kisses, went to
mill and to meeting, and said over her whole short vocabulary of French
and English words, so gracious and lovely that even your studious father
pushed back his books and papers to join the frolic. We were wonderfully
happy that night! I think the child is magnetic. She gives out her own
happiness like electric sparks. She never can bottle it up and enjoy it
selfishly."

"And she stayed till she was fifteen?"

"Yes. Then her father began to make money, and he made it----"

"Hand-over-fist," interposed Larry.

"Exactly. And I never saw one so puffed up with pride and vain-glory. It
would have been funny, only that he made us feel it so tragically. He
tore Joyce away--the word is not an exaggeration for she fought him at
every point and only yielded to positive compulsion. He put her into a
fashionable school and bade her have nothing more to do with those
'down-at-the-heel Bonnivels.' It was a trifle hard after the love and
care we had lavished upon her."

"It was beastly!" muttered Larry between his shut teeth. "Did he never
give you even gratitude, let alone money?"

"No. He measured out a niggardly sum for her board, and gave it over
with the air of munificently rewarding me. I would have refused to
accept it, but your father was gone, then, and I nearly blind. I could
not let my little ones suffer to gratify my own pride. I took it, but I
dared not speak for fear I should say too much. I simply bowed my head
in acknowledgment, and thanked God when he was gone, because I had been
able to control myself!"

"But Joyce did not see that?" put in Dorette.

"No, I am glad to say she did not. The scene with her had ended with her
passionate rush to the carriage, where she was lying back on the seat
half fainting amid