o Europe. Masters and travel
awaited her eager heart, and her own hand had carved the way. Her studio
in New York was filled with works; many homes, far and wide, owed their
pleasure, in the portrayed face of some dear one, to her pencil or
brushes; and a large class, constantly increasing in size, trod the
first pathways of art under her careful guidance. And so with hard work
and economy, the money had come in, and been laid away; and now at last,
there was enough. Mother and Olive were going to Europe.

I know it is all very nice and easy to carry a girl through ambitious
battles in a book, and after a lapse of years, which are left to the
imagination, to bring her out, glowing with success, and with her
heart's desire realized. It is done in a book this time; but Olive
Dering's love and longing for art, her struggles, determination, and
final success, are taken from the life of one who still lives, and who
is now enjoying the perfect happiness earned by hard labor, in the
galleries of the old masters. There had been toil and troubles and
trials; discouraging tears and times of despair, in the years through
which we have slipped without a pause; but it would do no good to tell
them all; it is enough to know that patience, perseverance and will had
overcome them, as there is rarely a case where they will not.

"Next year this time we'll not be here together," said Kittie, breaking
a long pause, such as will often come, when hearts are content with
worldless communion.

"Why not?" asked Jean. "Mama and Olive being in Italy, is no reason why
you should not come and spend Christmas with me."

"Bless the baby, to think she will be married then," exclaimed Bea,
caressing the brown head with loving hand. "Every one gone from the old
home but Jeanie, and she presiding over it, a married lady; to think of
it, girls?"

"So wags the world," said Kat with a brisk nod. "I think it would be sad
to come here and spend Christmas, with Olive and mama gone; but you must
all come to Boston, and if my house isn't big enough, I'll have an
addition put on."

"No, my home is best," put in Kittie with decision. "It's between you
all, and is plenty big enough. That is the place."

"Yes, indeed," chimed in Pansy, who was now a tall pretty girl of ten,
and perfectly devoted to mama. "We want you to come to New York, and
spoke about it before we left home; didn't we mama?"

"Yes, and we'll wage a brisk war with any one who puts in a cl