will find there."

When Janet had gone, he turned to Felix.

"Felix, would you like to study music as your life-work?"

Felix looked up, with a transfiguring flush on his wan face.

"Oh, grandfather! Oh, grandfather!"

"You may do so, my child. After this night I dare not hinder you. Go
with my blessing, and may God guide and keep you, and make you strong to
do His work and tell His message to humanity in you own appointed way.
It is not the way I desired for you--but I see that I was mistaken. Old
Abel spoke truly when he said there was a Christ in your violin as well
as a devil. I understand what he meant now."

He turned to meet Janet, who came into the study with a violin. Felix's
heart throbbed; he recognized it. Mr. Leonard took it from Janet and
held it out to the boy.

"This is your father's violin, Felix. See to it that you never make
your music the servant of the power of evil--never debase it to unworthy
ends. For your responsibility is as your gift, and God will exact the
accounting of it from you. Speak to the world in your own tongue through
it, with truth and sincerity; and all I have hoped for you will be
abundantly fulfilled."

IV. Little Joscelyn

"It simply isn't to be thought of, Aunty Nan," said Mrs. William
Morrison decisively. Mrs. William Morrison was one of those people who
always speak decisively. If they merely announce that they are going
to peel the potatoes for dinner their hearers realize that there is
no possible escape for the potatoes. Moreover, these people are always
given their full title by everybody. William Morrison was called Billy
oftener than not; but, if you had asked for Mrs. Billy Morrison, nobody
in Avonlea would have known what you meant at first guess.

"You must see that for yourself, Aunty," went on Mrs. William, hulling
strawberries nimbly with her large, firm, white fingers as she talked.
Mrs. William always improved every shining moment. "It is ten miles to
Kensington, and just think how late you would be getting back. You are
not able for such a drive. You wouldn't get over it for a month. You
know you are anything but strong this summer."

Aunty Nan sighed, and patted the tiny, furry, gray morsel of a kitten in
her lap with trembling fingers. She knew, better than anyone else could
know it, that she was not strong that summer. In her secret soul, Aunty
Nan, sweet and frail and timid under the burden of her seventy years,
felt with mysterious