the small person. When the small person saw that the visitor was
a lady, she no longer kept the door more than half closed, but throwing
it wide open, she made a profound courtesy, and said, "Pardon, madame;
please to enter."

Mrs. Coit paused, smilingly taking in the background of this interior. A
sunny window full of plants, a bed with ruffled pillow-cases, a gilt
clock, a canary, a table set out for two, a writing-desk and books in a
corner, and a cooking stove, with a bubbling saucepan sending the cover
dancing up and down. It was very close and warm, and the little hostess
was pale, despite the heat.

Mrs. Coit had no time to spare. She asked the child if she were Julie
Garnier, and if she wanted to spend two or three months in the country.

The child opened her eyes in silent wonder. "Could madame be in earnest?
Was it possible?"

Mrs. Coit explained, and in addition took out her pencil, and with
rapidity wrote a note to madame.

The little Julie fairly wept with delight. To be in the country, with
birds and bees and brooks--ah! it was too much felicity. Her mother
would be wild with pleasure.

Then Mrs. Coit was going; but Julie could not let her depart without a
taste of her _pot au feu_, which she was cooking for her dear _pauvre
petite maman_--just one sip, if madame could take no more; and pushing a
chair to the table, and hurriedly wiping off an old cracked faience
bowl, pretty enough in its day, the little eager hands dipped out a
ladleful of soup. Mrs. Coit found it delicious. Warm as was the room and
the repast, it was yet refreshing; so thanking the child for her
hospitality, she at last took her departure.

A week from this time behold an eager group of little ones on the deck
of a Hudson River night boat kissing their hands to Mr. and Mrs. Coit on
the wharf. Nurse is on guard, and counts the heads to see if all are
with her. Quillie's yellow locks are beside Julie's dark tresses; Fred
and Willie come next; and little Artie, who scorns being the baby, waves
in great dignity, as color-bearer, a small American flag. Long before
the stars are out they beg to go to their state-rooms. They creep into
the little beds, and imagine themselves on the tossing ocean. Nurse
hears them discussing who shall be in the upper and who in the lower
berths, and whether they shall be able to remain in them at all, for the
vessel may pitch them all out; then Julie silences all with a vivid
account of her travels. She