On the Sunday following Mr. Jocelyn slept so late that none of
the family went to church. Indeed, since their old relations were
broken up they scarcely knew where to go, and Mildred no more
felt that she could return to the fashionable temple in which Mrs.
Arnold worshipped than present herself at the elegant mansion on
Fifth Avenue. The family spent the after part of the day in one
of the most secluded nooks they could find in Central Park, and
Mildred often looked back upon those hours as among the brightest
in the shrouded past. Mr. Jocelyn gauged his essential stimulant
so well that he was geniality itself; Belle was more exuberant than
usual; Fred and Minnie rejoiced once more in flowers and trees and
space to run. Mrs. Jocelyn's low, sweet laugh was heard again and
again, for those who made her life were all around her, and they
seemed happier than they had been for many a long, weary day. For
a brief time at least the sun shone brightly through a rift in the
clouds gathering around them.

Beyond the fact that Belle had found a place, little was said to
Mr. Jocelyn, for the subject seemed very painful to him, and the
young girl started off Monday morning in high spirits. The foreman
met her in a curt, business-like way, and assigned her to her
place, saying that the girl in charge of the goods would tell her
about the marks, prices, etc. This girl and her companions received
Belle very coldly, nor did they thaw out before her sunshine. As a
matter both of duty and interest the young woman upon whom the task
devolved explained all that was essential in a harsh, constrained
voice, and the others ignored the newcomer during business hours.
Belle paid no attention to them, but gave her whole mind to the
details of her work, making rapid progress. "I'll have time for