ws, which all opened
towards the morning sun. "What a change it will be from that big bare
dormitory with its rows of narrow little cots." She tiptoed around the
room, admiring everything, and smiling over the happiness in store for
poor old Number Thirty-one, when she should find herself in the midst of
such loveliness.

Joyce's cup of pleasure was so full, that it brimmed over when they
turned to leave the room. Cousin Kate slipped an arm around her, and
kissed her softly on the forehead.

"You dear little fairy tale lover," she said. "Do you know that it is
because of you that this desert has blossomed? If you had never made all
those visits to the Little Sisters of the Poor, and had never won old
Madame Desire's love and confidence by your sympathy, if you had never
told Jules the story of the giant scissors, and wished so loud that you
could fly to her rescue, old monsieur would never have known that his
sister is living. Even then, I doubt if he would have taken this step,
and brought her back home to live, if your stories of your mother and
the children had not brought his own childhood back to him. He said that
he used to sit there hour after hour, and hear you talk of your life at
home, until some of its warmth and love crept into his own frozen old
heart, and thawed out its selfishness and pride."

Joyce lifted her radiant face, and looked towards the half opened
window, as she caught the sound of chimes. Across the Loire came the
deep-toned voice of a cathedral bell, ringing for vespers.

"Listen!" she cried. "Peace on earth,--good-will--oh, Cousin Kate! It
really does seem to say it! My Christmas has begun the day before."

CHAPTER X.

CHRISTMAS.

Long before the Christmas dawn was bright enough to bring the blue
parrots into plain view on the walls of Joyce's room, she had climbed
out of bed to look for her "messages from Noel." The night before,
following the old French custom, she had set her little slippers just
outside the threshold. Now, candle in hand, she softly slipped to the
door and peeped out into the hall. Her first eager glance showed that
they were full.

Climbing back into her warm bed, she put the candle on the table beside
it, and began emptying the slippers. They were filled with bonbons and
all sorts of little trifles, such as she and Jules had admired in the
gay shop windows. On the top of one madame had laid a slender silver
pencil, and monsieur a pretty purse. In the othe