y gave a hysterical scream, not very loud, but enough
to frighten Julie, whose eyes grew bigger and browner every moment.

"Oh, those eyes are Julie's!" said the lady.

"Of course they are, madame," replied Julie. "And are you the squaw?"

"Am I what? Is the child dreaming? What is your name, mon enfant?"

"My name is-- But why do you ask, madame? and where am I? Oh, I know: I
am on my way to see the old Indian squaw who lives up here in the
mountains, and it is getting late. I was very weary, and I fell asleep."

"Your name, my child--tell me your name, that I may know if you are
Julie Garnier's child."

"Yes, madame, I am Julie Garnier." With that the little lady embraced
her so warmly, and gave her so many kisses, that Julie strove to get
away from her.

"Children," said the lady, "come here; this is your cousin, little Julie
Garnier, whose mother is my dear sister, from whom I have long been
separated. Max, we must take the child home."

"Where are you staying, little one?" asked the gentleman, in a heavy
voice, which made Julie shrink toward the lady.

"I am staying with Quillie Coit at Mr. Brown's," was Julie's answer, for
she dared not now urge her errand, and was much perplexed by all this
agitation. The children were standing beside her, gazing curiously, but
not unkindly; the little lady was wiping her eyes; the gentleman was
holding a consultation with the driver. It ended by their all getting
again into the vehicle, Madame Von Boden taking Julie in her arms, and
pouring into her astonished ears sweet caressing words, in her own
beloved language, about Julie's own dear mother; their home in France;
her marriage to a Prussian; the marriage of Julie's mother to a
Frenchman; the dreadful war; a separation; a long silence, in which they
had heard nothing about Madame Garnier, who was so proud in her poverty;
fears that she was dead; the certain knowledge that her husband, Julie's
father, was really dead; and now this happy discovery. It was almost too
much for Julie, coming as it did in the midst of her own strange
adventure, and she could hardly believe it to be all true; but she
submitted with a good grace, stifling her regret at not accomplishing
her purpose, since this kind little aunt seemed to be so overjoyed. The
driver knew where Mr. Brown lived, and just as Mr. Brown's tired horses
were being harnessed, and nurse in weariful anxiety was listening to the
comfort which Quillie was trying to whispe