the bed, her eyes on the singer like one
entranced. Denise lay with her face full of joy and rapture--such joy
and rapture! Little Joyce did not regret the sacrifice of her black
doll--never could regret it, as long as she remembered Denise's look.

"T'ank you, Madame," said Denise brokenly, when Madame ceased. "Dat
was so beautiful--de angel, dey cannot sing more sweet. I love music
so much, Madame. Leetle Joyce, she sing to me often and often--she
sing sweet, but not lak you--oh, not lak you."

"Little Joyce must sing for me," said Madame, smiling, as she sat down
by the window. "I always like to hear fresh, childish voices. Will
you, Little Joyce?"

"Oh, yes." Little Joyce was quite unembarrassed and perfectly willing
to do anything she could for this wonderful woman who had brought that
look to Denise's face. "I will sing as well as I can for you. Of
course, I can't sing very well and I don't know anything but hymns. I
always sing hymns for Denise, although she is a Catholic and the hymns
are Protestant. But her priest told her it was all right, because all
music was of God. Denise's priest is a very nice man, and I like him.
He thought my little black doll--_your_ little black doll--was
splendid. I'll sing 'Lead, Kindly Light.' That is Denise's favourite
hymn."

Then Little Joyce, slipping her hand into Denise's, began to sing. At
the first note Madame Laurin, who had been gazing out of the window
with a rather listless smile, turned quickly and looked at Little
Joyce with amazed eyes. Delight followed amazement, and when Little
Joyce had finished, the great Madame rose impulsively, her face and
eyes glowing, stepped swiftly to Little Joyce and took the thin dark
face between her gemmed hands.

"Child, do you know what a wonderful voice you have--what a marvellous
voice? It is--it is--I never heard such a voice in a child of your
age. Mine was nothing to it--nothing at all. You will be a great
singer some day--far greater than I--yes. But you must have the
training. Where are your parents? I must see them."

"I have no parents," said the bewildered Little Joyce. "I belong to
Grandmother Marshall, and she is out driving."

"Then I shall wait until your Grandmother Marshall comes home from her
drive," said Madame Laurin decidedly.

Half an hour later a very much surprised old lady was listening to
Madame Laurin's enthusiastic statements.

"How is it I have never heard you sing, if you can sing so well?"