I have actually done a little shopping, the results
of which will, I trust, please you, trifling as they are. I am sending
off a little box by the Globe Express, which will, I hope, reach you by
Christmas Day. And now, dear Eugenia, for the point of my letter. It is
Clayton's idea; she burst out with it the other day when we were busy
about this same shopping. "Oh, my lady, if only Miss Jacinth--Miss
Mildmay I should say--were here it would be nice! She's just the young
lady to enjoy the change and not mind the quiet life, and she _would_
brighten you up." So will you spare her to me for the three or four
months I shall be here? I hesitate to ask it; you will miss her so. But
I am emboldened by the belief that it might be for the dear child's own
good. She could have excellent lessons of any or every kind, and some
amount of French talking, as I have a few old French friends in the
neighbourhood, near enough to spend a day with now and then. Her father
would bring her out, and, for my sake, I trust, not grudge the time and
fatigue. The whole expenses you would surely let me defray? You cannot
be hard-hearted enough to refuse _this_, dearest Eugenia.'

Mrs Mildmay thought it over and talked it over with her husband: then
they laid it before Jacinth herself, giving her indeed the letter itself
to read. Jacinth's face crimsoned with pleasure and excitement, and her
eyes glistened. But in a moment or two they grew dewy.

'Oh, mamma,' she exclaimed, 'it would be delightful. But--I cannot bear
to think of leaving you for so long.'

These were sweet and grateful words to the mother's ears. But, as ever,
she took the cheerful and sensible view of the matter. The separation
would be but a short one, and it might really be of great advantage to
Jacinth. Besides which--and this argument, I think, had the most weight
with them all--was it not a duty to do what they could to please their
dear old friend?

So a favourable and grateful answer was sent without much delay, and
before the new year was many days old, Jacinth and her father found
themselves speeding across France as fast as the _train de luxe_ could
take them, to join Lady Myrtle in her winter home.

Jacinth enjoyed it all, and there was a considerable amount of freshness
to her in the experience, though it was not entirely unknown ground.
For, as a young child, she had spent some time in the south of France
with her mother on her way to England, and she had once in l