wide open, sending a broad stream of lamplight across the little group
in the barnyard. Without a word of greeting monsieur laid hold of the
trembling Jules and drew him nearer the door. Throwing open the child's
blouse, he examined the thin little shoulders, which shrank away as if
to dodge some expected blow.

"Go to my room," was all the old man said to him. Then he turned
fiercely towards Brossard. His angry tones reached Jules even after he
had mounted the stairs and closed the door. The child crept close to the
cheerful fire, and, crouching down on the rug, waited in a shiver of
nervousness for his uncle's step on the stair.

Meanwhile, Joyce, hurrying home all a-tingle with the excitement of her
adventure, wondered anxiously what would be the result of it. Under
cover of the dusk she slipped into the house unobserved. There was
barely time to dress for dinner. When she made her appearance monsieur
complimented her unusually red cheeks.

"Doubtless mademoiselle has had a fine promenade," he said.

"No," answered Joyce, with a blush that made them redder still, and that
caused madame to look at her so keenly that she felt those sharp eyes
must be reading her inmost thoughts. It disturbed her so that she upset
the salt, spilled a glass of water, and started to eat her soup with a
fork. She glanced in an embarrassed way from madame to monsieur, and
gave a nervous little laugh.

"The little mademoiselle has been in mischief again," remarked monsieur,
with a smile. "What is it this time?"