ed at her with a friendly eye and sat upon a warm stone,
dressing its wet feathers, quite at home. Beth smiled and felt
comforted, for the tiny thing seemed to offer its small friendship and
remind her that a pleasant world was still to be enjoyed.

"Dear little bird! See, Jo, how tame it is. I like peeps better than
the gulls. They are not so wild and handsome, but they seem happy,
confiding little things. I used to call them my birds last summer, and
Mother said they reminded her of me--busy, quaker-colored creatures,
always near the shore, and always chirping that contented little song
of theirs. You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm
and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone. Meg is the
turtledove, and Amy is like the lark she writes about, trying to get up
among the clouds, but always dropping down into its nest again. Dear
little girl! She's so ambitious, but her heart is good and tender, and
no matter how high she flies, she never will forget home. I hope I
shall see her again, but she seems so far away."

"She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to
see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time,"
began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change
was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought
aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth.

"Jo, dear, don't hope any more. It won't do any good. I'm sure of
that. We won't be miserable, but enjoy being together while we wait.
We'll have happy times, for I don't suffer much, and I think the tide
will go out easily, if you help me."

Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face, and with that silent kiss,
she dedicated herself soul and body to Beth.

She was right. There was no need of any words when they got home, for
Father and Mother saw plainly now what they had prayed to be saved from
seeing. Tired with her short journey, Beth went at once to bed, saying
how glad she was to be home, and when Jo went down, she found that she
would be spared the hard task of telling Beth's secret. Her father
stood leaning his head on the mantelpiece and did not turn as she came
in, but her mother stretched out her arms as if for help, and Jo went
to comfort her without a word.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

NEW IMPRESSIONS

At three o'clock in the afternoon, all the fashionable world at Nice
may be seen on the Promenade des Anglais--a charming pl