he quoted
with an arch, smiling face.

"Perhaps it was well to dissemble your love,
But why did you kick me down-stairs?"

Joyce had to laugh heartily amid her gloom, and felt better for the
outburst.

"It's what I want to know, myself!" she cried warmly. "Have I quite
deserved it all?"

"It's the way of the world, my dear. But I've something to tell you, on
my side. I have just been talking to a young girl--I think they call her
Lucy--and she is so glad and happy over this house and its
possibilities! I wish you could have heard her talk. She says her mother
is dead, and she is busy all day with the housework and babies. But
to-night some good friend she called Nate, as I remember, who is not
invited till to-morrow evening, said he would sit with the children and
she should come with her father. It's the first party she was ever at,
and she has a new muslin for it, and some dear Marry, as she called her,
gave her a bit of nice lace for the neck, and it has been all bliss and
rapture! Her voice was fairly tremulous with happiness, Joyce."

"O!" cried the latter, feeling better and better, "It must have been
Lucy Hapgood. I wish I could have seen her, myself. Which way did she
go?"

"I don't know, dear. Who is near us now? No one very close, is there?"

"No--at least all are busy with their own affairs."

"Then I will say this; remember always that you are not doing these
things for gratitude, nor praise. That has always been understood,
hasn't it?"

"Yes, yes, of course. But--but it's hard to have abuse, ma mere!"

"They don't mean it for you, cherie. Are they not all nice to you,
personally?"

"They treat me well enough, yes. But not as if they really care for me."

"And why should they, on so short acquaintance! Remember, they do not
dream who their good fairy really is. And you must always tell yourself
it is not _you_ they repulse. You simply stand for the class that has
oppressed and cheated them. They denounce "young Early" to-night, simply
for the sake of what has gone before. They cannot believe in real
friendliness all at once, and they look coolly on you, imagining you
have no interests in common with them. They look across a gulf of
suffering and privation at you, who seem never to suffer, and their eyes
grow hard and stony. Can you wonder? You should not be either surprised,
or hurt."

"But they don't treat you so, mother. And you are of my class, as you
call it."

"Am I? Well,