would be in London next morning, while the poor friends in Paris might
cry as much as they liked--they could not bring her back."

"`She seemed to think it quite easy, but I was afraid of the thieves,
and had only three francs in my purse; and that afternoon they were
both awfully kind to me, and Pere called me _cherie_, and Therese took
me to the circus. The clown is called August, but the principal one
is English, because they are the best. He made English jokes, and I
laughed as loudly as I could, to show that I understood. The other
people smiled with their lips, don't you know--the way people do when
they don't understand, but think it is grand to pretend. I feel so
stylish being English in France. When I come home to London, I'll be
French!

"`Esmeralda sent me a book and some money for Christmas presents.
Tell Jack to write me a funny letter with illustrations. How is the
poor girl with the bark on the road? We haven't a single animal in
the house, not even a cat. I miss them frightfully. Do you remember
when my ferret died, and I filled up to cry, and the Major bought me a
white rat for consolation? Health, and tons of love, darling, from
your own Pixie.'"

Sylvia chuckled softly from the bed.

"It's not a scrap like a letter," she said. "It is just like somebody
talking. What a jolly little soul! She seems very young, doesn't she?
Some girls of sixteen are quite young ladies."

"Pixie will always be a child," said Pixie's sister fondly. "There is
something simple and trustful about her which will keep her young all
her life. She is so transparently honest, that it never occurs to her
that anyone else can be different; and she is the kindest, most loving
little creature that was ever created. Don't you think she looks a
darling in the photograph?"

It had come at last, the dreaded question, and Sylvia tried her best to
combine truthfulness with politeness.

"She has very sweet eyes. It is difficult to judge when you have never
seen a person. She--she isn't exactly pretty, is she?"

"_Pretty_--Pixie pretty! I should think not, indeed!" cried Bridgie,
with a heat of denial which seemed singularly out of keeping with the
occasion. From the manner of her reply it was evident that she
considered Pixie's plainness a hundred times more _distingue_ than
Esmeralda's beauty. "She's the quaintest-looking little creature that
ever you set eyes on, with the d