's a letter from Joyce which that naughty Norman has been carrying
around all day. He didn't remember to give it to me until he was putting
on his overcoat to start home, and discovered it in one of the pockets.
I just _had_ to open it while the other guests were making their adieus,
and I've read enough to set me all in a whirl. Joyce's long dreamed of
happiness has come at last! She's to go to Paris in a few weeks, but
first--_she's coming home to spend Christmas with us!_"

Mrs. Ware paused to enjoy the effect of her announcement. She was in
such a quiver of delight herself that Mary's happy cry of astonishment
and Jack's excited exclamation did not do justice to the occasion. Only
long-legged Norman's demonstration seemed adequate. Standing on his head
he turned one somersault after another across the room, till he landed
perilously near Mary, who gave him a sharp tweak of the ear as he came
up in a sitting posture beside her.

"Oh, you wretch!" she exclaimed. "To keep such news in your pocket all
day! I'm going to tell Captain Doane never to give you any letters
again, if you can't deliver them more promptly than that!"

"Sh!" she added, as Norman began a string of excuses for his
forgetfulness. "Mamma is going to read it aloud."

"BELOVED FAMILY," the letter began. "Ere you
have recovered from the shock of the
announcement I am about to make, we shall be
dismantling the studio, packing our trunks and
making preparations to shift our little
establishment from New York to Paris. At least,
Miss Henrietta and I expect to go to Paris and
carry on the same kind of studio-apartment
housekeeping that we have done here. Mrs. Boyd
and Lucy have gone to Florida, but they may
join us next summer.

"But first, before I put the ocean between us,
I'm going home for a glimpse of you all. It is
a long journey for such a short visit, but I
can't go so far without seeing you all once
more, just at Christmas time too, when we've
been separated so many Christmases. It is
Cousin Kate who has made all this possible. She
did not adopt those little blind children after
all. She was taken with a spell of typhoid
fever while she was trying to make up her mind,
and has never been well enough since to
consider burdening herself in such a way. She