"The oldest son, Mr. Martin Ciseaux, kept up the place for a long time,
just as his father had done, but he never married. All of a sudden he
shut up the house, sent away all the servants but the two who take care
of it, and went off to Algiers to live. Five years ago he came back to
bring his little grand-nephew, but nobody has seen him since that time.

"Clotilde says that an orphan asylum would have been a far better home
for Jules (that is the boy's name), for Brossard, the caretaker, is so
mean to him. Doesn't that make you think of Prince Ethelried in the
fairy tale? 'Little and lorn; no fireside welcomed him and no lips gave
him a friendly greeting.'

"Marie says that she has often seen Jules down in the field, back of his
uncle's house, tending the goats. I hope that I may see him sometime.

"Oh, dear, the postman has come sooner than I expected. He is talking
down in the hall now, and if I do not post this letter now it will miss
the evening train and be too late for the next mail steamer. Tell mamma
that I will answer all her questions about my lessons and clothes next
week. Oceans of love to everybody in the dear little brown house."

Hastily scrawling her name, Joyce ran out into the hall with her
letter. "Anything for me?" she asked, anxiously, leaning over the
banister to drop the letter into Marie's hand. "One, mademoiselle," was
the answer. "But it has not a foreign stamp."

"Oh, from Cousin Kate!" exclaimed Joyce, tearing it open as she went
back to her room. At the door she stooped to pick up a piece of paper
that had dropped from the envelope. It crackled stiffly as she
unfolded it.