would be delightful to
have her, but it will count for one real unselfish thing I've done in my
life if I do without her for these last weeks."

So it was arranged that Pixie should return at the proper date, and
Mademoiselle sat in the morning-room stitching away at the pile of
shabby little garments, mending, and darning, putting in "elegant"
little patches at the elbows, and turning and pressing the frayed silk
cuffs. Neither of the sisters had time to help, and indeed seemed to
think It unnecessary to spend so much trouble on a child's outfit, but
Mademoiselle set her lips and went steadily on with her task. She knew,
if they did not, that it is not too pleasant for a girl to be noticeably
shabby at a fashionable school, and many a dainty piece of ribbon and
lace found its way from her box to refresh hat or dress, and give an
appearance of freshness to the well-worn background. When the last
night came, and Bridgie tried to thank her for her help, she shook her
head and refused to listen.

"I was a stranger to you, and you welcomed me among you as if I had been
your own. You were more than kind, you seemed to love me, and never let
me feel for one moment that I was one apart. That means a great deal to
a woman who is alone in a strange land, and I could not be more happy
than to find something to do for you in return. What is a little
sewing? Bah! I tell you, my friend, it is much more than that I intend
to do for your Pixie. You say that you will not long be able to send
her to school, but I can do better for her than school. At the end of
this year I must go 'ome, for my sister is _fiancee_, and when she is
married I must be there to look after the old father. Lend Pixie to me,
and she shall learn to speak French, the proper French, not that
dreadful language of Holly House, and I will take her myself to the
Conservatoire--there is no better place in the world to learn music than
the Conservatoire in Paris--and she shall learn to sing and make use of
that lovely voice. _Voila, ma chere_, at the end of a few years she
comes back to you, and you will not know her! A young woman, with
grace, with charm, with--what shall I say?--an air such as your English
girls do not know how to possess, and everyone shall say, `How she is
accomplished, that Pixie! How she is clever and _chic_!'"

The tears had risen in Bridgie's eyes, but now she was obliged to laugh
at the same time, for it was so droll to think o