formation, but smiled to herself as at
an interesting reminiscence. It seemed as though what she had heard had
been of a distinctly pleasant character!

Sylvia returned home feeling mysteriously happy and elated, and the
sight of a letter addressed to herself in her father's handwriting put
the finishing touch on her satisfaction. She took it upstairs to her
own room, and sat herself down on the one comfortable chair which she
possessed, to read its contents with undisturbed enjoyment. She was in
no hurry to break the seal, however, for it was so pleasant just to hold
the letter in her hand, and lean back comfortably against the cushions,
and dream.

The dreams, it is true, were mostly concerned with the events of the
afternoon, and Mollie Burrell's intent and kindly scrutiny; but it was
like the old times when she had thought her own thoughts with her hand
clasped in that of the dear old dad, and the touch of the sheet on which
his fingers had rested brought back the old feeling of strength and
security. She had told him much about her new friends, and he seemed
always to wish to hear more, asking carefully veiled questions, the
meaning of which were perfectly understood by his shrewd little
daughter.

Dad was anxious about this friendship with a family which included a
handsome grown-up son among its members; a trifle afraid lest she should
be spirited away to another home before he had enjoyed his own innings.

"Poor old darling!" murmured Sylvia remorsefully, for at the bottom of
her heart she knew well which home she would choose if the choice were
given, and it did seem hard--horribly hard--that a parent should love
and guard and work for his child from the hour of her birth, and that
when she had grown old and sensible enough to be a companion instead of
a care, she should immediately desert him for another! "But I could
never love dad any less, never, never! I'd give anything in the world
to see him again!" Sylvia cried mentally as she opened the envelope and
straightened the thin, foreign sheets.

It was a long letter, and took a long time to read, and in the process
Sylvia's expression changed once and again, and finally settled into one
of incredulous dismay. It was not that the news was bad; on the
contrary, it was good--very good indeed--the thing above all others
which she would have wished to hear, but it threatened a complete
uprooting of her life just as it was growing most interesting, and