asked Grandmother Marshall, looking at Little Joyce with something in
her eyes that had never been in them before--as Little Joyce instantly
felt to the core of her sensitive soul. But Little Joyce hung her
head. It had never occurred to her to sing in Grandmother Marshall's
presence.

"This child must be trained by-and-by," said Madame Laurin. "If you
cannot afford it, Mrs. Marshall, I will see to it. Such a voice must
not be wasted."

"Thank you, Madame Laurin," said Grandmother Marshall with a gracious
dignity, "but I am quite able to give my granddaughter all the
necessary advantages for the development of her gift. And I thank you
very much for telling me of it."

Madame Laurin bent and kissed Little Joyce's brown cheek.

"Little gypsy, good-by. But come every day to this hotel to see me.
And next summer I shall be back. I like you--because some day you will
be a great singer and because today you are a loving, unselfish baby."

"You have forgotten the little black doll, Madame," said Little Joyce
gravely.

Madame threw up her hands, laughing. "No, no, I shall not take your
little black doll of the four thousand years. Keep it for a mascot. A
great singer always needs a mascot. But do not, I command you, take it
out of the box till I am gone, for if I were to see it again, I might
not be able to resist the temptation. Some day I shall show you _my_
dolls, but there is not such a gem among them."

When Madame Laurin had gone, Grandmother Marshall looked at Little
Joyce.

"Come to my room, Joyce. I want to see if we cannot find a more
becoming way of arranging your hair. It has grown so thick and long. I
had no idea how thick and long. Yes, we must certainly find a better
way than that stiff braid. Come!"

Little Joyce, taking Grandmother Marshall's extended hand, felt very
happy. She realized that this strange, stately old lady, who never
liked little girls unless they were pretty or graceful or clever, was
beginning to love her at last.

The Man on the Train

When the telegram came from William George, Grandma Sheldon was all
alone with Cyrus and Louise. And Cyrus and Louise, aged respectively
twelve and eleven, were not very much good, Grandma thought, when it
came to advising what was to be done. Grandma was "all in a flutter,
dear, oh dear," as she said.

The telegram said that Delia, William George's wife, was seriously ill
down at Green Village, and William George wanted Samuel to bring