own again?"

"No, for the boy went away to live not long after this, and everything
was changed."

"And is the little girl still over the library mantel?"

"No, Wink, she was taken away long ago."

When the caller left, Frances came out of her hiding-place behind the
curtains. "Are we going to stay here all winter?" she asked.

Mrs. Morrison drew her daughter down beside her on the couch where she
sat. It was hard to believe such a small person the mother of this great
girl. "You shall hear all about it, dearie, and then help us to decide,"
she said. "Father has had an offer from the _Eastern Review_. They want
him to go to Hawaii, and besides paying him well it will be an
advantage to him in other ways."

"But can't we go with you, father?"

"No, Wink, I am afraid not, for several reasons."

"Of course it will be hard for us all, but if it seems to be the best
thing I am sure you and I will be brave and let him go;" Mrs. Morrison's
voice trembled a little, and for a moment she hid her face on Frances'
shoulder.

"Will you be gone very long?" asked the little girl.

"Several months, if I go. The matter is not decided by any means. I do
not see how I can leave you," answered Mr. Morrison.

"You must go, Jack; it will be the very thing for you. It isn't only the
money, dear, or even the opportunity for getting on in your work, but
you need a change, for you haven't been yourself lately. Frances and I
will stay here and be very comfortable, and when you come home we'll
have a jubilee."

"And not go back to Chicago?" Frances asked.

"The winters there are too cold for you. No, I think we'd better stay
here, but not in this house," said her mother.

"It will be difficult to find the kind of place I shall be willing to
leave you in," replied Mr. Morrison. "What is it you are always singing,
Frances?" he added, for as she turned the leaves of a magazine she was
humming softly to herself.

"I don't know," she answered laughing, then--"Why, yes, I do--it is the
song of the Spectacle Man,

"'The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it,'

"that is all I know of it. He was telling me about it when you came for
me. I wish I could go to see him again."

CHAPTER THIRD.

GLADYS.

While they were still talking matters over, Gladys Bowen, a little girl
who lived in the house, came to ask if Frances might play with her; and
Frances, who had not had a playmate of her own age for some time, was
very ready