before going into the house. Now she was sitting on the sofa beside
Cousin Kate, feeling very awkward and shy with her little brown fingers
clasped in this stranger's soft white hand. She had heard that Cousin
Kate was a very rich old maid, who had spent years abroad, studying
music and languages, and she had expected to see a stout, homely woman
with bushy eyebrows, like Miss Teckla Schaum, who played the church
organ, and taught German in the High School.

But Cousin Kate was altogether unlike Miss Teckla. She was tall and
slender, she was young-looking and pretty, and there was a stylish air
about her, from the waves of her soft golden brown hair to the bottom of
her tailor-made gown, that was not often seen in this little
Western village.

Joyce saw herself glancing admiringly at Cousin Kate, and then pulling
down her dress as far as possible, painfully conscious that her shoes
were untied, and white with dust. The next picture was several days
later. She and Jack were playing mumble-peg outside under the window by
the lilac-bushes, and the little mother was just inside the door,
bending over a pile of photographs that Cousin Kate had dropped in her
lap. Cousin Kate was saying, "This beautiful old French villa is where I
expect to spend the winter, Aunt Emily. These are views of Tours, the
town that lies across the river Loire from it, and these are some of the
châteaux near by that I intend to visit. They say the purest French in
the world is spoken there. I have prevailed on one of the dearest old
ladies that ever lived to give me rooms with her. She and her husband
live all alone in this big country place, so I shall have to provide
against loneliness by taking my company with me. Will you let me have
Joyce for a year?"