I say?"

"She is not," said Miss Vesta Dale, finding her voice at last. "The
child is away, and you should not see her if she were here. She is not
meant for the sort of thing you talk about. She--she is the same as
our own child, my sister's and mine. We mean to keep her by us as long
as we live. I thank you," she added, with stately courtesy. "I don't
doubt that many might be glad of such a chance, but we are not that
kind, my sister and I."

The man's face fell; but the next moment he looked incredulous. "You
don't mean what you say, ma'am!" he cried; "you can't mean it! To keep
a voice like that shut up in a God-forsaken little hole like
this,--oh, you don't know what you're talking about, really you
don't.' And think of the advantage to the child herself!" He saw the
woman's face change at this, saw that he had made a point, and
hastened to pursue it. "What can the child have, if she spends her
life here? No education, no pleasure,--nothing. Nice little place, no
doubt, for those that are used to it, but--Lord! a child that has the
whole world before her, to pick and choose! She must go to Europe,
ma'am! She will sing before crowned heads; go to Russia, and be
decorated by the Czar. She'll have horses and carriages, jewels,
dresses finer than any queen! Patti spends three fortunes a year on
her clothes, and this girl has as good a voice as Patti, any day. Why,
you have to support her, don't you?--and hard work, too, sometimes,
perhaps--her and maybe others?"

Miss Vesta winced; and he saw it. Oh, Rejoice! it was a joy to save
and spare, to deny herself any little luxury, that the beloved sister
might have everything she fancied. But did she have everything? Was