experience of life were of no use at that moment, a gleam of
youth and hope was theirs by sympathy instead. A child's pleasure in a
journey moves the dullest heart; the captain was the first to find
some means of expression.

"Give me some o' that best candy for her," he commanded the
storekeeper. "No, take a bigger piece of paper, and tie it up well."

"Ain't she dressed a little thin for travelin'?" asked gruff
Mr. Spooner anxiously, and for his part he pointed the storekeeper to
a small bright plaid shawl that hung overhead, and stooped to wrap it
himself about the little shoulders.

"I must get the little girl something, too," said the minister, who
was a grandfather, and had just come in for his mail. "What do you
like best, my dear?" and French Mary pointed shyly, but with instant
decision, at a blue silk parasol, with a white handle, which was
somewhat the worse for having been openly displayed all summer. The
minister bought it with pleasure, like a country boy at a fair, and
put into her hand.

French Mary kissed the minister with rapture, and gave him her hand to
shake, then she put down the parasol and ran and climbed into the old
captain's lap and hugged him with both arms tight round his neck. She
considered for a moment whether she should kiss Mr. Ezra Spooner or
not, but happily did not decide against it, and said an affectionate
good-by to him and all the rest. Mr. Staples himself came out from
behind the counter to say farewell and bestow a square package of
raisins. They all followed her to the door, and stood watching while
she tucked her bundles under her arm and raised the new parasol, and
walked away down the street in the chilly autumn morning. She had
taken all her French gayety and charm, all her childish sweetness and
dignity away with her. Little French Mary had gone. Fate had plucked
her like a flower out of their lives.

She did not turn back, but when she was half-way home she began to
run, and the new shawl was given gayly to the breeze. The captain
sighed.

"I wish the little girl well," he said, and turned away. "We shall
miss her, but she doesn't know what parting is. I hope she'll please
'em just as well in Canada."

THE GUESTS OF MRS. TIMMS.

I.

Mrs. Persis Flagg stood in her front doorway taking leave of Miss
Cynthia Pickett, who had been making a long call. They were not
intimate friends. Miss Pickett always came formally to the front door
and rang when she paid he