evening. It had been a gift of Paradise. Its hours had all been
fair and beloved. From dawn flush to fall of night there had been
naught to mar it. It took with it its smiles and laughter. But
it left the boon of memory.



CHAPTER XXVII

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH


"I am going away with father when he goes. He is going to spend
the winter in Paris, and I am to go to school there."

The Story Girl told us this one day in the orchard. There was a
little elation in her tone, but more regret. The news was not a
great surprise to us. We had felt it in the air ever since Uncle
Blair's arrival. Aunt Janet had been very unwilling to let the
Story Girl go. But Uncle Blair was inexorable. It was time, he
said, that she should go to a better school than the little
country one in Carlisle; and besides, he did not want her to grow
into womanhood a stranger to him. So it was finally decided that
she was to go.

"Just think, you are going to Europe," said Sara Ray in an awe-
struck tone. "Won't that be splendid!"

"I suppose I'll like it after a while," said the Story Girl
slowly, "but I know I'll be dreadfully homesick at first. Of