A Garland for Girls

by Louisa May Alcott

  POPPIES AND WHEAT

  AS the great steamer swung round into the stream the cloud of whitehandkerchiefs waving on the wharf melted away, the last good-byesgrew fainter, and those who went and those who stayed felt that theparting was over,--

  "It may be for years, and it may be forever,"

  as the song says.

  With only one of the many groups on the deck need we concernourselves, and a few words will introduce our fellow-travellers. Abrisk middle-aged lady leaned on the arm of a middle-aged gentlemanin spectacles, both wearing the calmly cheerful air of people usedto such scenes, and conscious only of the relief change of placebrings to active minds and busy lives.

  Before them stood two girls, evidently their charges, and asevidently not sisters, for in all respects they were a greatcontrast. The younger was a gay creature of seventeen, in aneffective costume of navy-blue and white, with bright hair blowingin the wind, sparkling eyes roving everywhere, lively tongue going,and an air of girlish excitement pleasant to see. Both hands werefull of farewell bouquets, which she surveyed with more pride thantenderness as she glanced at another group of girls less blessedwith floral offerings.

  Her companion was a small, quiet person, some years older thanherself, very simply dressed, laden with wraps, and apparentlyconscious just then of nothing but three dark specks on the wharf,as she still waved her little white flag, and looked shoreward witheyes too dim for seeing. A sweet, modest face it was, withintelligent eyes, a firm mouth, and the look of one who had earlylearned self-reliance and self-control.

  The lady and gentleman watched the pair with interest and amusement;for both liked young people, and were anxious to know these twobetter, since they were to be their guides and guardians for sixmonths. Professor Homer was going abroad to look up certainimportant facts for his great historical work, and as usual took hiswife with him; for they had no family, and the good lady was readyto march to any quarter of the globe at short notice. Fearing to belonely while her husband pored over old papers in foreign libraries,Mrs. Homer had invited Ethel Amory, a friend's daughter, toaccompany her. Of course the invitation was gladly accepted, for itwas a rare opportunity to travel in such company, and Ethel was wildwith delight at the idea. One thorn, however, vexed her, amongthe roses with which her way seemed strewn. Mamma would not let hertake a French maid, but preferred a young lady as companion; for,three being an awkward number, a fourth party would be not onlyconvenient, but necessary on the girl's account, since she was notused to take care of herself and Mrs. Homer could only be expectedto act as chaperone.

  "Jane Bassett is just the person I want, and Jane shall go. Sheneeds a change after teaching all these years; it will do her aworld of good, for she will improve and enjoy every moment, and thesalary I shall offer her will make it worth her while," said Mrs.Amory, as she discussed the plan with her daughter.

  "She is only three years older than I am, and I hate to be takencare of, and watched, and fussed over. I can order a maid round, buta companion is worse than a governess; such people are alwayssensitive and proud, and hard to get on with. Every one takes amaid, and I'd set my heart on that nice Marie who wants to go home,and talks such lovely French. Do let me have her, Mamma!" beggedEthel, who was a spoiled child and usually got her own way.

  But for once Mamma stood firm, having a strong desire to benefit herdaughter by the society of better companions than the gay girls ofher own set, also to give a great pleasure to good little JaneBassett, who had been governessing ever since she was sixteen, withvery few vacations in her hard, dutiful life.

  "No, darling, I have asked Jane, and if her mother can spare her,Jane it shall be. She is just what you need,--sensible and kind,intelligent and capable; not ashamed to do anything for you, andable to teach you a great deal in a pleasant way. Mrs. Homerapproves of her, and I am sure you will be glad by-and-by; fortravelling is not all 'fun,' as you expect, and I don't want you tobe a burden on our friends. You two young things can take care ofeach other while the Professor and his wife are busy with their ownaffairs; and Jane is a far better companion for you than thatcoquettish French woman, who will probably leave you in the lurch assoon as you reach Paris. I shouldn't have a moment's peace if youwere left with her, but I have entire confidence in Jane Bassettbecause she is faithful, discreet, and a true lady in all things."

  There was no more to be said, and Ethel pouted in vain. Janeaccepted the place with joy; and after a month of delightful hurrythey were off, one all eagerness for the new world, the other fullof tender regret for the dear souls left behind. How they got on,and what they learned, remains to be told.

  "Come, Miss Bassett, we can't see them any longer, so we may as wellbegin to enjoy ourselves. You might take those things down below,and settle the stateroom a bit; I'm going to walk about and get mybearings before lunch. You will find me somewhere round."

  Ethel spoke with a little tone of command, having made up her mindto be mistress and keep Jane Bassett in her place, though she didknow three languages and sketched much better than Miss Amory.

  Jenny, as we who are going to be her bosom friends will call her,nodded cheerfully, and looked about for the stairway; for, neverhaving been on a steamer before, she was rather bewildered.

  "I'll show you the way, my dear. I always get my things settled atonce, as one never knows when one may have to turn in. The Professorwill go with you, Ethel; it is not proper for you to roam aboutalone;" and with that hint Mrs. Homer led the way below, privatelywondering how these young persons were going to get on together.

  Jane swallowed her "heimweh" in silence, and bestirred herself sowell that soon the stateroom looked very cosy with the wrappers laidready, the hanging bags tacked up, and all made ship-shape for theten days' trip.

  "But where are YOUR comforts? You have given Ethel all the room, thelower berth, and the best of everything," said Mrs. Homer, poppingin her head to see how her quiet neighbor got on.

  "Oh, I live in my trunk; I didn't bring half as many little luxuriesas Ethel did, so I don't need as much room. I'm used to living incorners like a mouse, and I get on very well," answered Jane,looking very like a mouse just then, as she peeped out of the upperberth, with her gray gown, bright eyes, and quick nod ofcontentment.

  "Well, my dear, I've just one word of advice to give you. Don't letthat child tyrannize over you. She means well, but is wilful andthoughtless, and it is NOT your duty to be made a slave of. Assertyourself and she will obey and respect you, and you will help her agreat deal. I know all about it; I was a companion in my youth, andhad a hard time of it till I revolted and took my proper place. Nowlet us go up and enjoy the fine air while we can."

  "Thank you, I will remember;" and Jane offered the good lady herarm, with a feeling of gratitude for such friendliness, all beingnew and strange to her, and many doubts of her own fitness for theposition lying heavy at her heart.

  But soon all was forgotten as she sat on deck watching the islands,lighthouses, ships, and shores glide by as she went swiftly out tosea that bright June day. Here was the long-cherished desire of herlife come to pass at last, and now the parting with mother andsisters was over, nothing but pleasure remained, and a very earnestpurpose to improve this unexpected opportunity to the uttermost.The cares of life had begun early for little Jane, she being theeldest of the three girls, and her mother a widow. First came hardstudy, then a timid beginning as nursery governess; and as year byyear the teaching of others taught her, she ventured on till hereshe was companion to a fine young lady "going abroad," where everyfacility for acquiring languages, studying history, seeing the bestpictures, and enjoying good society would all be hers. No wonder thequiet face under the modest gray hat beamed, as it turned wistfullytoward the unknown world before her, and that her thoughts were sofar away, she was quite unconscious of the kind eyes watching her,as Mrs. Homer sat placidly knitting beside her.

  "I shall like the Mouse, I'm quite sure. Hope Lemuel will be as wellsatisfied. Ethel is charming when she chooses, but
will need lookingafter, that's plain," thought the lady as she glanced down the deckto where her husband stood talking with several gentlemen, while hischarge was already making friends with the gay girls who were to beher fellow-passengers.

  "Daisy Millers, I fear," went on Mrs. Homer, who had a keen eye forcharacter, and was as fond of studying the people about her as theProfessor was of looking up dead statesmen, kings, and warriors. Theyoung ladies certainly bore some resemblance to the type of Americangirl which one never fails to meet in travelling. They were dressedin the height of the fashion, pretty with the delicate evanescentbeauty of too many of our girls, and all gifted with the loudvoices, shrill laughter, and free-and-easy manners which so astonishdecorous English matrons and maids. Ethel was evidently impressedwith their style, as they had a man and maid at their beck and call,and every sign of ostentatious wealth about them. A stout papa, athin mamma, evidently worn out with the cares of the past winter,three half-grown girls, and a lad of sixteen made up the party; anda very lively one it was, as the Professor soon found, for hepresently bowed himself away, and left Ethel to her new friends,since she smilingly refused to leave them.

  "Ought I to go to her?" asked Jenny, waking from her happy reverieto a sudden sense of duty as the gentleman sat down beside her.

  "Oh dear, no, she is all right. Those are the Sibleys of New York.Her father knows them, and she will find them a congenial refugewhen she tires of us quiet folk; and you too, perhaps?" added theProfessor as he glanced at the girl.

  "I think not. I should not be welcome to them, nor are they the sortof people I like. I shall be very happy with the 'quiet folk,' ifthey won't let me be in the way," answered Jenny, in the cheerfulvoice that reminded one of the chirp of a robin.

  "We won't; we'll toss you overboard as soon as you begin to screamand bounce in that style," he answered, laughing at the idea of thisdemure young person's ever dreaming of such a thing. Jenny laughedalso, and ran to pick up Mrs. Homer's ball, as it set out for a rollinto the lee-scuppers. As she brought it back she found theProfessor examining the book she left behind her.

  "Like all young travellers you cling to your 'Baedeker,' I see, evenin the first excitement of the start. He is a useful fellow, but Iknow my Europe so well now, I don't need him."

  "I thought it would be wise to read up our route a little, then Ineedn't ask questions. They must be very tiresome to people who knowall about it," said Jenny, regarding him with an expression of deeprespect for she considered him a sort of walking encyclopaedia ofuniversal knowledge.

  It pleased the learned man, who was kindly as well as wise, andloved to let his knowledge overflow into any thirsty mind, howeversmall the cup might be. He liked the intelligent face before him,and a timid question or two set him off on his favorite hobby at apleasant amble, with Jenny on the pillion behind, as it were. Sheenjoyed it immensely, and was deep in French history, when the lunchgong recalled her from Francis I. and his sister Margaret to chopsand English ale.

  Ethel came prancing back to her own party, full of praises of theSibleys, and the fun they meant to have together.

  "They are going to the Langham; so we shall be able to go about withthem, and they know all the best shops, and some lords and ladies,and expect to be in Paris when we are, and that will be a great helpwith our dresses and things."

  "But we are not going to shop and have new dresses till we are onour way home, you know. Now we haven't time for such things, andcan't trouble the Homers with more trunks," answered Jenny, as theyfollowed their elders to the table.

  "I shall buy what I like, and have ten trunks if it suits me. I'mnot going to poke round over old books and ruins, and live in atravelling-dress all the time. You can do as you like; it'sdifferent with me, and _I_ know what is proper."

  With which naughty speech Ethel took her seat first at the table,and began to nod and smile at the Sibleys opposite. Jenny set herlips and made no answer, but ate her lunch with what appetite shecould, trying to forget her troubles in listening to the chat goingon around her.

  All that afternoon Ethel left her to herself, and enjoyed the morecongenial society of the new acquaintances. Jenny was tired, andglad to read and dream in the comfortable seat Mrs. Homer left herwhen she went for her nap.

  By sunset the sea grew rough and people began to vanish below. Therewere many empty places at dinner-time, and those who appeared seemedto have lost their appetites suddenly. The Homers were goodsailors, but Jenny looked pale, and Ethel said her head ached,though both kept up bravely till nine o'clock, when the Sibleysprecipitately retired after supper, and Ethel thought she might aswell go to bed early to be ready for another pleasant day to-morrow.

  Jenny had a bad night, but disturbed no one. Ethel slept soundly,and sprang up in the morning, eager to be the first on deck. But asudden lurch sent her and her hair-brush into a corner: and when sherose, everything in the stateroom seemed to be turning somersaults,while a deathly faintness crept over her.

  "Oh, wake up, Jane! We are sinking! What is it? Help me, help me!"and with a dismal wail Ethel tumbled into her berth in the firstanguish of seasickness.

  We will draw the curtain for three days, during which rough weatherand general despair reigned. Mrs. Homer took care of the girls tillJenny was able to sit up and amuse Ethel; but the latter had a hardtime of it, for a series of farewell lunches had left her in a badstate for a sea-voyage, and the poor girl could not lift her headfor days. The new-made friends did not trouble themselves about herafter a call of condolence, but faithful Jenny sat by her hour afterhour, reading and talking by day, singing her to sleep at night, andoften creeping from her bed on the sofa to light her little candleand see that her charge was warmly covered and quite comfortable.Ethel was used to being petted, so she was not very grateful; butshe felt the watchful care about her, and thought Jane almost ashandy a person as a maid, and told her so.

  Jenny thanked her and said nothing of her own discomforts; but Mrs.Homer saw them, and wrote to Mrs. Amory that so far the companionwas doing admirably and all that could be desired. A few days latershe added more commendations to the journal-letters she kept for theanxious mothers at home, and this serio-comical event was the causeof her fresh praises.

  The occupants of the deck staterooms were wakened in the middle ofthe night by a crash and a cry, and starting up found that theengines were still, and something was evidently the mattersomewhere. A momentary panic took place; ladies screamed, childrencried, and gentlemen in queer costumes burst out of their rooms,excitedly demanding, "What is the matter?"

  As no lamps are allowed in the rooms at night, darkness added to thealarm, and it was some time before the real state of the case wasknown. Mrs. Homer went at once to the frightened girls, and foundEthel clinging to Jenny, who was trying to find the life-preserverslashed to the wall.

  "We've struck! Don't leave me! Let us die together! Oh, why did Icome? why did I come?" she wailed; while the other girl answeredwith a brave attempt at cheerfulness, as she put over Ethel's headthe only life-preserver she could find,--.

  "I will! I will! Be calm, dear! I guess there is no immediatedanger. Hold fast to this while I try to find something warm for youto put on."

  In a moment Jenny's candle shone like a star of hope in the gloom,and by the time the three had got into wrappers and shawls, a pealof laughter from the Professor assured them that the danger couldnot be great. Other sounds of merriment, as well as Mrs. Sibley'svoice scolding violently, was heard; and presently Mr. Homer came totell them to be calm, for the stoppage was only to cool the engines,and the noise was occasioned by Joe Sibley's tumbling out of hisberth in a fit of nightmare caused by Welsh rarebits and poachedeggs at eleven at night.

  Much relieved, and a little ashamed now of their fright, every onesubsided; but Ethel could not sleep, and clung to Jenny in anhysterical state till a soft voice began to sing "Abide with me" sosweetly that more than one agitated listener blessed the singer andfell asleep before the comforting hymn ended.

 
Ethel was up next day, and lay on the Professor's bearskin rug ondeck, looking pale and interesting, while the Sibleys sat by hertalking over the exciting event of the night, to poor Joe's greatdisgust. Jenny crept to her usual corner and sat with a book on herlap, quietly reviving in the fresh air till she was able to enjoythe pleasant chat of the Homers, who established themselves near byand took care of her, learning each day to love and respect thefaithful little soul who kept her worries to herself, and lookedbrightly forward no matter how black the sky might be.

  Only one other incident of the voyage need be told; but as thatmarked a change in the relations between the two girls it is worthrecording.

  As she prepared for bed late one evening, Mrs. Homer heard Jenny sayin a tone never used before,--

  "My dear, I must say something to you or I shall not feel as if Iwere doing my duty. I promised your mother that you should keepearly hours, as you are not very strong and excitement is bad foryou. Now, you WON'T come to bed at ten, as I ask you to every night,but stay up playing cards or sitting on deck till nearly every onebut the Sibleys is gone. Mrs. Homer waits for us, and is tired, andit is very rude to keep her up. Will you PLEASE do as you ought, andnot oblige me to say you must?"

  Ethel was sleepy and cross, and answered pettishly, as she held outher foot to have her boot unbuttoned,--for Jenny, anxious to please,refused no service asked of her,--

  "I shall do as I like, and you and Mrs. Homer needn't troubleyourselves about me. Mamma wished me to have a good time, and Ishall! There is no harm in staying up to enjoy the moonlight, andsing and tell stories. Mrs. Sibley knows what is proper better thanyou do."

  "I don't think she does, for she goes to bed and leaves the girls toflirt with those officers in a way that I know is NOT proper,"answered Jenny, firmly. "I should be very sorry to hear them say ofyou as they did of the Sibley girls, 'They are a wild lot, but greatfun.'"

  "Did they say that? How impertinent!" and Ethel bridled up like aruffled chicken, for she was not out yet, and had not lost themodest instincts that so soon get blunted when a frivolousfashionable life begins.

  "I heard them, and I know that the well-bred people on board do notlike the Sibleys' noisy ways and bad manners. Now, you, my dear, areyoung and unused to this sort of life; so you cannot be too carefulwhat you say and do, and with whom you go."

  "Good gracious! any one would think YOU were as wise as Solomon andas old as the hills. YOU are young, and YOU haven't travelled, anddon't know any more of the world than I do,--not so much of somethings; so you needn't preach."

  "I'm not wise nor old, but I DO know more of the world than you, forI began to take care of myself and earn my living at sixteen, andfour years of hard work have taught me a great deal. I am to watchover you, and I intend to do it faithfully, no matter what you say,nor how hard you make it for me; because I promised, and I shallkeep my word. We are not to trouble Mrs. Homer with our littleworries, but try to help each other and have a really good time. Iwill do anything for you that I can, but I shall NOT let you dothings which I wouldn't allow my own sisters to do, and if yourefuse to mind me, I shall write to your mother and ask to go home.My conscience won't let me take money and pleasure unless I earnthem and do my duty."

  "Well, upon my word!" cried Ethel, much impressed by such a decidedspeech from gentle Jane, and dismayed at the idea of being takenhome in disgrace.

  "We won't talk any more now, because we may get angry and say whatwe should be sorry for. I am sure you will see that I am right whenyou think it over quietly. So good-night, dear."

  "Good-night," was all the reply Ethel gave, and a long silencefollowed.

  Mrs. Homer could not help hearing as the staterooms were closetogether, and the well-ventilated doors made all conversationbeyond a whisper audible.

  "I didn't think Jane had the spirit to talk like that. She has takenmy hint and asserted herself, and I'm very glad, for Ethel must beset right at once or we shall have no peace. She will respect andobey Jane after this, or I shall be obliged to say MY word."

  Mrs. Homer was right, and before her first nap set in she heard ameek voice say,--

  "Are you asleep, Miss Bassett?"

  "No, dear."

  "Then I want to say, I've thought it over. Please DON'T write tomamma. I'll be good. I'm sorry I was rude to you; do forgive--"

  The sentence was not ended, for a sudden rustle, a little sob, andseveral hearty kisses plainly told that Jenny had flown to pardon,comfort, and caress her naughty child, and that all was well.

  After that Ethel's behavior was painfully decorous for the rest ofthe voyage, which, fortunately for her good resolutions, ended atQueenstown, much to her regret. The Homers thought a glimpse atIreland and Scotland would be good for the girls; and as theProfessor had business in Edinburgh this was the better route forall parties. But Ethel longed for London, and refused to see anybeauty in the Lakes of Killarney, turned up her nose atjaunting-cars, and pronounced Dublin a stupid place.

  Scotland suited her better, and she could not help enjoying the finescenery with such companions as the Homers; for the Professor knewall about the relics and ruins, and his wife had a memory richlystored with the legends, poetry, and romance which make dull factsmemorable and history enchanting.

  But Jenny's quiet rapture was pleasant to behold. She had notscorned Scott's novels as old-fashioned, and she peopled thecottages and castles with his heroes and heroines; she croonedBurns's sweet songs to herself as she visited his haunts, and wentabout in a happy sort of dream, with her head full of Highland Mary,Tam o' Shanter, field-mice and daisies, or fought terrific battleswith Fitz-James and Marmion, and tried if "the light harebell" would"raise its head, elastic from her airy tread," as it did from theLady of the Lake's famous foot.

  Ethel told her she was "clean daft;" but Jenny said, "Let me enjoyit while I can. I've dreamed of it so long I can hardly realize thatit has come, and I cannot lose a minute of it;" so she absorbedScotch poetry and romance with the mist and the keen air from themoors, and bloomed like the bonnie heather which she loved to wear.

  "What shall we do this rainy day in this stupid place?" said Ethel,one morning when bad weather kept them from an excursion to StirlingCastle.

  "Write our journals and read up for the visit; then we shall knowall about the castle, and need not tire people with our questions,"answered Jenny, already established in a deep window-seat of theirparlor at the hotel with her books and portfolio.

  "I don't keep a journal, and I hate to read guide-books; it's mucheasier to ask, though there is very little I care for about thesemouldy old places," said Ethel with a yawn, as she looked out intothe muddy street.

  "How can you say so? Don't you care for poor Mary, and PrinceCharlie, and all the other sad and romantic memories that haunt thecountry? Why, it seems as real to me as if it happened yesterday,and I never can forget anything about the place or the people now.Really, dear, I think you ought to take more interest and improvethis fine chance. Just see how helpful and lovely Mrs. Homer is,with a quotation for every famous spot we see. It adds so much toour pleasure, and makes her so interesting. I'm going to learn someof the fine bits in this book of hers, and make them my own, since Icannot buy the beautiful little set this Burns belongs to. Don't youwant to try it, and while away the dull day by hearing each otherrecite and talking over the beautiful places we have seen?"

  "No, thank you; no study for me. It is to be all play now. Why tiremy wits with that Scotch stuff when Mrs. Homer is here to do it forme?" and lazy Ethel turned to the papers on the table for amusementmore to her taste.

  "But we shouldn't think only of our own pleasure, you know. It is sosweet to be able to teach, amuse, or help others in any way. I'mglad to learn this new accomplishment, so that I may be to some oneby-and-by what dear Mrs. Homer is to us now, if I ever can. Didn'tyou see how charmed those English people were at Holyrood when shewas reciting those fine lines to us? The old gentleman bowed andthanked her, and the handsome lady called her 'a book of elegant
extracts.' I thought it was such a pretty and pleasant thing that Idescribed it all to mother and the girls."

  "So it was; but did you know that the party was Lord Cumberland andhis family? The guide told me afterward. I never guessed they wereanybody, in such plain tweed gowns and thick boots; did you?"

  "I knew they were ladies and gentlemen by their manners andconversation; did you expect they would travel in coronets andermine mantles?" laughed Jenny.

  "I'm not such a goose! But I'm glad we met them, because I can tellthe Sibleys of it. They think so much of titles, and brag about LadyWatts Barclay, whose husband is only a brewer knighted. I shall buya plaid like the one the lord's daughter wore, and wave it in thefaces of those girls; they do put on SUCH airs because they havebeen in Europe before."

  Jenny was soon absorbed in her books; so Ethel curled herself up inthe window-seat with an illustrated London paper full of some royalevent, and silence reigned for an hour. Neither had seen theProfessor's glasses rise like two full moons above his paper now andthen to peep at them as they chatted at the other end of the room;neither saw him smile as he made a memorandum in his note-book, norguessed how pleased he was at Jenny's girlish admiration of hisplain but accomplished and excellent wife. It was one of the trifleswhich went to form his opinion of the two lasses, and in time tosuggest a plan which ended in great joy for one of them.

  "Now the real fun begins, and I shall be perfectly contented," criedEthel as they rolled through the London streets towards the dingyLangham Hotel, where Americans love to congregate.

  Jenny's eyes were sparkling also, and she looked as if quite readyfor the new scenes and excitements which the famous old citypromised them, though she had private doubts as to whether anythingcould be more delightful than Scotland.

  The Sibleys were at the hotel; and the ladies of both parties atonce began a round of shopping and sightseeing, while the gentlemenwent about their more important affairs. Joe was detailed for escortduty; and a fine time the poor lad had of it, trailing about withseven ladies by day and packing them into two cabs at night for thetheatres and concerts they insisted on trying to enjoy in spite ofheat and weariness.

  Mrs. Homer and Jenny were soon tired of this "whirl of gayety," asthey called it, and planned more quiet excursions with some hourseach day for rest and the writing and reading which all wisetourists make a part of their duty and pleasure. Ethel rebelled, andmuch preferred the "rabble," as Joe irreverently called his troop ofladies, never losing her delight in Regent Street shops, the parksat the fashionable hour, and the evening shows in full blasteverywhere during the season. She left the sober party whenever shecould escape, and with Mrs. Sibley as chaperone, frolicked aboutwith the gay girls to her heart's content. It troubled Jenny, andmade her feel as if she were not doing her duty; but Mrs. Homerconsoled her by the fact that a month was all they could give toLondon, and soon the parties would separate, for the Sibleys werebound for Paris, and the Professor for Switzerland and Germany,through August and September.

  So little Jane gave herself up to the pleasures she loved, and withthe new friends, whose kindness she tried to repay by every smallservice in her power, spent happy days among the famous haunts theyknew so well, learning much and storing away all she saw and heardfor future profit and pleasure. A few samples of the different waysin which our young travellers improved their opportunities willsufficiently illustrate this new version of the gay grasshopper andthe thrifty ant.

  When they visited Westminster Abbey, Ethel was soon tired of tombsand chapels, and declared that the startling tableau of the skeletonDeath peeping out of the half-opened door of the tomb to throw hisdart at Mrs. Nightingale, and the ludicrous has-relief of some greatearl in full peer's robes and coronet being borne to heaven in thearms of fat cherubs puffing under their load, were the only thingsworth seeing.

  Jenny sat spellbound in the Poets' Corner, listening while Mrs.Homer named the illustrious dead around them; followed the vergerfrom chapel to chapel with intelligent interest as he told the storyof each historical or royal tomb, and gave up Madam Tussaud'swax-work to spend several happy hours sketching the beautifulcloisters in the Abbey to add to her collection of water-colors,taken as she went from place to place, to serve as studies for herpupils at home.

  At the Tower she grew much excited over the tragic spots she visitedand the heroic tales she heard of the kings and queens, the noblehearts and wise heads, that pined and perished there. Ethel "hatedhorrors," she said, and cared only for the crown jewels, the fadedeffigies in the armor gallery, and the queer Highlanders skirling onthe bagpipes in the courtyard.

  At Kew Jenny revelled in the rare flowers, and was stricken withamazement at the Victoria Regia, the royal water-lily, so large thata child could sit on one of its vast leaves as on a green island.Her interest and delight so touched the heart of the crusty keeperthat he gave her a nosegay of orchids, which excited the envy ofEthel and the Sibley girls, who were of the party, but had soonwearied of plants and gone off to order tea in Flora's Bower,--oneof the little cottages where visitors repose and refresh themselveswith weak tea and Bath buns in such tiny rooms that they have to puttheir wraps in the fireplace or out of the window while they feast.

  At the few parties to which they went,--for the Homers' friends wereof the grave, elderly sort,--Jenny sat in a corner taking notes ofthe gay scene, while Ethel yawned. But the Mouse got many a crumb ofgood conversation as she nestled close to Mrs. Homer, drinking inthe wise and witty chat that went on between the friends who came topay their respects to the Professor and his interesting wife. Eachnight Jenny had new and famous names to add to the list in herjournal, and the artless pages were rich in anecdotes, descriptions,and comments on the day's adventures.

  But the gem of her London collection of experiences was found in amost unexpected way, and not only gave her great pleasure, but madethe young gadabouts regard her with sudden respect as one come tohonor.

  "Let me stay and wait upon you; I'd much rather than go to theCrystal Palace, for I shouldn't enjoy it at all with you lying herein pain and alone," said Jenny one lovely morning when the girlscame down ready for the promised excursion, to find Mrs. Homer laidup with a nervous headache.

  "No, dear, you can do nothing for me, thanks. Quiet is all I need,and my only worry is that I am not able to write up my husband'snotes for him. I promised to have them ready last night, but was sotired I could not do it," answered Mrs. Homer, as Jenny leaned overher full of affectionate anxiety.

  "Let me do them! I'd be so proud to help; and I can, for I did copysome one day, and he said it was well done. Please let me; I shouldenjoy a quiet morning here much better than the noisy party we shallhave, since the Sibleys are to go."

  With some reluctance the invalid consented; and when the rest weregone with hasty regrets, Jenny fell to work so briskly that in anhour or two the task was done. She was looking wistfully out of thewindow wondering where she could go alone, since Mrs. Homer wasasleep and no one needed her, when the Professor came in to see howhis wife was before he went to the British Museum to consult certainfamous books and parchments.

  He was much pleased to find his notes in order, and after a glanceat the sleeping lady, told Jenny she was to come with him for avisit to a place which SHE would enjoy, though most young peoplethought it rather dull.

  Away they went; and being given in charge to a pleasant old man,Jenny roamed over the vast Museum where the wonders of the world arecollected, enjoying every moment, till Mr. Homer called her away, ashis day's work was done. It was late now, but she never thought oftime, and came smiling up from the Egyptian Hall ready for the lunchthe Professor proposed. They were just going out when a gentlemanmet them, and recognizing the American stopped to greet himcordially. Jenny's heart beat when she was presented to Mr.Gladstone, and she listened with all her ears to the silveryun-English voice, and stared with all her eyes at the weary yet wiseand friendly face of the famous man.

  "I'm so glad! I wanted to see him very much, and I f
eel so grand tothink I've really had a bow and a smile all to myself from thePremier of England," said Jenny in a flutter of girlish delight whenthe brief interview was over.

  "You shall go to the House of Commons with me and hear him speaksome day; then your cup will be full, since you have already seenBrowning, heard Irving, taken tea with Jean Ingelow, and caught aglimpse of the royal family," said the Professor, enjoying her keeninterest in people and places.

  "Oh, thanks! that will be splendid. I do love to see famous persons,because it gives me a true picture of them, and adds to my desire toknow more of them, and admire their virtues or shun their faults."

  "Yes, that sort of mental picture-gallery is a good thing to have,and we will add as many fine portraits as we can. Now you shall ridein a Hansom, and see how you like that."

  Jenny was glad to do so, for ladies do not use these vehicles whenalone, and Ethel had put on great airs after a spin in one with Joe.Jenny was girl enough to like to have her little adventures to boastof, and that day she was to have another which eclipsed all that heryoung companions ever knew.

  A brisk drive, a cosy lunch at a famous chop-house where Johnsonhad drunk oceans of tea, was followed by a stroll in the Park; forthe Professor liked his young comrade, and was grateful for thewell-written notes which helped on his work.

  As they leaned against the railing to watch the splendid equipagesroll by, one that seemed well known, though only conspicuous by itsquiet elegance, stopped near them, and the elder of the two ladiesin it bowed and beckoned to Professor Homer. He hastened forward tobe kindly greeted and invited to drive along the Ladies' Mile.Jenny's breath was nearly taken away when she was presented to theDuchess of S--, and found herself sitting in a luxurious carriageopposite her Grace and her companion, with a white-wigged coachmanperched aloft and two powdered footmen erect behind. Secretlyrejoicing that she had made herself especially nice for her tripwith the Professor, and remembering that young English girls areexpected to efface themselves in the company of their elders, shesat mute and modest, stealing shy glances from under her hat-brim atthe great lady, who was talking in the simplest way with her guestabout his work, in which, as a member of one of the historicalhouses of England, she took much interest. A few gracious words fellto Jenny's share before they were set down at the door of the hotel,to the great admiration of the porter, who recognized the liveriesand spread the news.

  "This is a good sample of the way things go in Vanity Fair. Wetrudge away to our daily work afoot, we treat ourselves to a humblecab through the mud, pause in the park to watch the rich and great,get whisked into a ducal carriage, and come home in state, feelingrather exalted, don't we?" asked the Professor as they wentupstairs, and he observed the new air of dignity which Janeunconsciously assumed as an obsequious waiter flew before to openthe door.

  "I think we do," answered honest Jane, laughing as she caught thetwinkle of his eyes behind the spectacles. "I like splendor, and IAM rather set up to think I've spoken to a live duchess; but I thinkI like her beautiful old face and charming manners more than herfine coach or great name. Why, she was much more simply dressed thanMrs. Sibley, and talked as pleasantly as if she did not feel a bitabove us. Yet one couldn't forget that she was noble, and lived in avery different world from ours."

  "That is just it, my dear; she IS a noble woman in every sense ofthe word, and has a right to her title. Her ancestors werekingmakers, and she is Lady-in-waiting to the Queen; yet she leadsthe charities of London, and is the friend of all who help the worldalong. I'm glad you have met her, and seen so good a sample of atrue aristocrat. We Americans affect to scorn titles, but too manyof us hanker for them in secret, and bow before very poor imitationsof the real thing. Don't fill your journal with fine names, as somemuch wiser folk do, but set down only the best, and remember, 'Allthat glitters is not gold.'"

  "I will, sir." And Jenny put away the little sermon side by sidewith the little adventure, saying nothing of either till Mrs. Homerspoke of it, having heard the story from her husband.

  "How I wish I'd been there, instead of fagging round that greatpalace full of rubbish! A real Duchess! Won't the Sibleys stare? Weshall hear no more of Lady Watts Barclay after this, I guess, andyou will be treated with great respect; see if you are not!" saidEthel, much impressed with her companion's good fortune and eager totell it.

  "If things of that sort affect them, their respect is not worthhaving," answered Jane, quietly accepting the arm Ethel offered heras they went to dinner,--a very unusual courtesy, the cause of whichshe understood and smiled at.

  Ethel looked as if she felt the reproof, but said nothing, only setan example of greater civility to her companion, which the othergirls involuntarily followed, after they had heard of Jenny'sexcursion with the Professor.

  The change was very grateful to patient Jane, who had borne manysmall slights in proud silence; but it was soon over, for theparties separated, and our friends left the city far behind them, asthey crossed the channel, and sailed up the Rhine to Schwalbach,where Mrs. Homer was to try the steel springs for her rheumatismwhile the Professor rested after his London labors.

  A charming journey, and several very happy weeks followed as thegirls roamed about the Little Brunnen, gay with people from allparts of Europe, come to try the famous mineral waters, and restunder the lindens.

  Jenny found plenty to sketch here, and was busy all day bookingpicturesque groups as they sat in the Allee Saal, doing prettywoodland bits as they strolled among the hills, carefully copyingthe arches and statues in St. Elizabeth's Chapel, or the queer oldhouses in the Jews' Quarter of the town. Even the pigs went into theportfolio, with the little swineherd blowing his horn in the morningto summon each lazy porker from its sty to join the troop thattrotted away to eat acorns in the oak wood on the hill till sunsetcalled them home again.

  Ethel's chief amusement was buying trinkets at the booths near theStahlbrunnen. A tempting display of pretty crystal, agate, and steeljewelry was there, with French bonbons, Swiss carvings, Germanembroidery and lace-work, and most delectable little portfolios ofviews of fine scenery or illustrations of famous books. Ethel spentmuch money here, and added so greatly to her store of souvenirs thata new trunk was needed to hold the brittle treasures she accumulatedin spite of the advice given her to wait till she reached Paris,where all could be bought much cheaper and packed safely fortransportation.

  Jenny contented herself with a German book, Kaulbach's GoetheGallery, and a set of ornaments for each sister; the purple, pink,and white crystals being cheap and pretty trinkets for young girls.She felt very rich with her generous salary to draw upon when sheliked; but having made a list of proper gifts, she resistedtemptation and saved her money, remembering how much every penny wasneeded at home.

  Driving from the ruins of Hohenstein one lovely afternoon, the girlsgot out to walk up a long hill, and amused themselves gatheringflowers by the way. When they took their places again, Ethel had agreat bouquet of scarlet poppies, Jenny a nosegay of bluecorn-flowers for Mrs. Homer, and a handful of green wheat forherself.

  "You look as if you had been gleaning," said the Professor, as hewatched the girls begin to trim their rough straw hats with the gaycoquelicots and the bearded ears.

  "I feel as if I were doing that every day, sir, and gathering in agreat harvest of pleasure, if nothing else," answered Jenny, turningher bright eyes full of gratitude from one kind face to the other.

  "My poppies are much prettier than that stiff stuff. Why didn't youget some?" asked Ethel, surveying her brilliant decoration withgreat satisfaction.

  "They don't last; but my wheat will, and only grow prettier as itripens in my hat," answered Jenny, contentedly settling the gracefulspires in the straw cord that bound the pointed crown.

  "Then the kernels will all drop out and leave the husks; that won'tbe nice, I'm sure," laughed Ethel.

  "Well, some hungry bird will pick them up and be glad of them. Thehusks will last a long time and remind me of this happy day; yourpoppies
are shedding their leaves already, and the odor is notpleasant. I like my honest breadmaking wheat better than your opiumflowers," said Jenny, with her thoughtful smile, as she watched thescarlet petals float away leaving the green seed-vessels bare.

  "Oh, I shall get some artificial ones at my little milliner's, andbe fine as long as I like; so you are welcome to your useful,bristly old wheat," said Ethel, rather nettled by the look thatpassed between the elders.

  Nothing more was said; but both girls remembered that little talklong afterward, for those two wayside nosegays served to point themoral of this little tale, if not to adorn it.

  We have no space to tell all the pleasant wanderings of ourtravellers as they went from one interesting place to another, tillthey paused for a good rest at Geneva.

  Here Ethel quite lost her head among the glittering display ofjewelry, and had to be watched lest she rashly spend her last penny.They were obliged almost forcibly to carry her out of the enchantingshops; and no one felt safe till she was either on the lake, ordriving to Chamouni, or asleep in her bed.

  Jenny bought a watch, a very necessary thing for a teacher, and thiswas the best place to get a good one. It was chosen with care andmuch serious consultation with the Professor; and Mrs. Homer added alittle chain and seal, finding Jenny about to content herself with ablack cord.

  "It is only a return for many daughterly services, my dear; and myhusband wishes me to offer these with thanks to the patientsecretary who has often helped him so willingly," she said, as shecame to wake Jenny with a kiss on the morning of her twenty-firstbirthday.

  A set of little volumes like those she had admired was the secondgift, and Jenny was much touched to be so kindly remembered. Ethelgave her some thread lace which she had longed to buy for her motherat Brussels, but did not, finding it as costly as beautiful. It wasa very happy day, though quietly spent sitting by the lake enjoyingthe well-chosen extracts from Shakspeare, Wordsworth, Byron, Burns,Scott, and other descriptive poets, and writing loving letters home,proudly stamped with the little seal.

  After that, while Ethel haunted the brilliant shops, read novels inthe hotel-garden, or listlessly followed the sight-seers, Jenny,with the help of her valuable little library, her industriouspencil, and her accomplished guides, laid up a store of precioussouvenirs as they visited the celebrated spots that lie like anecklace of pearls around the lovely lake, with Mont Blanc as thesplendid opal that fitly clasps the chain. Calvin and Geneva,Voltaire and Ferney, De Stael and Coppet, Gibbon's garden atLausanne, Byron's Prisoner at Chillon, Rousseau's chestnut grove atClarens, and all the legends, relics, and memories of Switzerland'sheroes, romancers, poets, and philosophers, were carefully studied,recorded, and enjoyed; and when at last they steamed away towardParis, Jenny felt as if her head and her heart and one little trunkheld richer treasures than all the jewelry in Geneva.

  At Lyons her second important purchase was made; for when theyvisited one of the great manufactories to execute severalcommissions given to Mrs. Homer, Jenny proudly bought a nice blacksilk for her mother. This, with the delicate lace, would make thedear woman presentable for many a day, and the good girl beamed withsatisfaction as she pictured the delight of all at home when thissplendid gift appeared to adorn the dear parent-bird, who nevercared how shabby she was if her young were well feathered.

  It was a trial to Jenny, when they reached Paris, to spend day afterday shopping, talking to dressmakers, and driving in the Bois towatch the elegant world on parade, when she longed to be livingthrough the French Revolution with Carlyle, copying the quaintrelics at Hotel Cluny, or revelling in the treasures of the Louvre.

  "Why DO you want to study and poke all the time?" asked Ethel, asthey followed Mrs. Homer and a French acquaintance round the PalaisRoyal one day with its brilliant shops, cafes, and crowds.

  "My dream is to be able to take a place as teacher of German andhistory in a girl's school next year. It is a fine chance, and I ampromised it if I am fitted; so I must work when I can to be ready.That is why I like Versailles better than Rue de Rivoli, and enjoytalking with Professor Homer about French kings and queens more thanI do buying mock diamonds and eating ices here," answered Jenny,looking very tired of the glitter, noise, and dust of the gay placewhen her heart was in the Conciergerie with poor Marie Antoinette,or the Invalides, where lay the great Napoleon still guarded by hisfaithful Frenchmen.

  "What a dismal prospect! I should think you'd rather have a jollytime while you could, and trust to luck for a place by-and-by, ifyou must go on teaching," said Ethel, stopping to admire a windowfull of distracting bonnets.

  "No; it is a charming prospect to me, for I love to teach, and Ican't leave anything to luck. God helps those who help themselves,mother says, and I want to give the girls an easier time than I havehad; so I shall get my tools ready, and fit myself to do good workwhen the job comes to me," answered Jenny, with such a decided airthat the French lady glanced back at her, wondering if a quarrel wasgoing on between the demoiselles.

  "What do you mean by tools?" asked Ethel, turning from the gaybonnets to a ravishing display of bonbons in the next window.

  "Professor Homer said one day that a well-stored mind was atool-chest with which one could carve one's way. Now, my tools areknowledge, memory, taste, the power of imparting what I know, goodmanners, sense, and--patience," added Jenny, with a sigh, as shethought of the weary years spent in teaching little children thealphabet.

  Ethel took the sigh to herself, well knowing that she had been atrial, especially of late, when she had insisted on Jane's companybecause her own French was so imperfect as to be nearly useless,though at home she had flattered herself that she knew a good deal.Her own ignorance of many things had been unpleasantly impressedupon her lately, for at Madame Dene's Pension there were severalagreeable English and French ladies, and much interestingconversation went on at the table, which Jenny heartily enjoyed,though she modestly said very little. But Ethel, longing todistinguish herself before the quiet English girls, tried to talkand often made sad mistakes because her head was a jumble of newnames and places, and her knowledge of all kinds very superficial.Only the day before she had said in a patronizing tone to a Frenchlady,--

  "Of course we remember our obligations to your Lamartine during ourRevolution, and the other brave Frenchmen who helped us."

  "You mean Lafayette, dear," whispered Jenny quickly, as the ladysmiled and bowed bewildered by the queerly pronounced French, butcatching the poet's name.

  "I know what I mean; you needn't trouble yourself to correct andinterrupt me when I'm talking," answered Ethel, in her pert way,annoyed by a smile on the face of the girl opposite, and Jenny'sblush at her rudeness and ingratitude. She regretted both when Janeexplained the matter afterward, and wished that she had at oncecorrected what would then have passed as a slip of the tongue. Nowit was too late; but she kept quiet and gave Miss Cholmondeley nomore chances to smile in that aggravatingly superior way, though itwas very natural, as she was a highly educated girl.

  Thinking of this, and many other mistakes of her own from which Janetried to save her, Ethel felt a real remorse, and walked silentlyon, wondering how she could reward this kind creature who had servedher so well and was so anxious to get on in her hard, humble way.The orders were all given now, the shopping nearly done, andMademoiselle Campan, the elderly French lady who boarded at theirPension, was always ready to jaunt about and be useful; so why notgive Jane a holiday, and let her grub and study for the little whileleft them in Paris? In a fortnight Uncle Sam was to pick up thegirls and take them home, while the Homers went to Rome for thewinter. It would be well to take Miss Bassett back in a good humor,so that her report would please Mamma, and appease Papa if he wereangry at the amount of money spent by his extravagant littledaughter. Ethel saw now, as one always does when it is too late torepair damages, many things left undone which she ought to havedone, and regretted living for herself instead of putting morepleasure into the life of this good girl, whose future seemed souninviti
ng to our young lady with her first season very near.

  It was a kind plan, and gratified Jenny very much when it wasproposed and proved to her that no duty would be neglected if shewent about with the Homers and left her charge to the excellent ladywho enjoyed chiffons as much as Ethel did, and was glad to receivepretty gifts in return for her services.

  But alas for Ethel's good resolutions and Jenny's well-earnedholiday! Both came to nothing, for Ethel fell ill from too muchpastry, and had a sharp bilious attack which laid her up till theuncle arrived.

  Every one was very kind, and there was no danger; but the days werelong, the invalid very fretful, and the nurse very tired, before thesecond week brought convalescence and a general cheering andclearing up took place. Uncle Sam was amusing himself verycomfortably while he waited for his niece to be able to travel, andthe girls were beginning to pack by degrees, for the accumulation ofEthel's purchases made her share a serious task.

  "There! All are in now, and only the steamer trunk is left to packat the last moment," said Jenny, folding her tired arms after aprotracted struggle with half a dozen new gowns, and a perplexingmedley of hats, boots, gloves, and perfumery. Two large trunks stoodin the ante-room ready to go; the third was now done, and nothingremained but the small one and Jenny's shabby portmanteau.

  "How nicely you have managed! I ought to have helped, only youwouldn't let me and I should have spoilt my wrapper. Come and restand help me sort out this rubbish," said Ethel, who would have beendressed and out if the arrival of a new peignoir had not kept her into enjoy the lovely pink and blue thing, all lace and ribbon andFrench taste.

  "You will never get them into that box, dear," answered Jenny,gladly sitting down beside her on the sofa, which was strewn withtrinkets of all sorts, more or less damaged by careless handling,and the vicissitudes of a wandering trunk.

  "I don't believe they are worth fussing over. I'm tired of them, andthey look very mean and silly after seeing real jewels here. I'dthrow them away if I hadn't spent so much money on them," saidEthel, turning over the tarnished filigree, mock pearl, andimitation coral necklaces, bracelets, and brooches that weretumbling out of the frail boxes in which they came.

  "They will look pretty to people at home who have not been seeing somany as we have. I'll sew up the broken cases, and rub up thesilver, and string the beads, and make all as good as new, and youwill find plenty of girls at home glad to get them, I am sure,"answered Jenny, rapidly bringing order out of chaos with thoseskilful hands of hers.

  Ethel leaned back and watched her silently for a few minutes. Duringthis last week our young lady had been thinking a good deal, and wasconscious of a strong desire to tell Jane Bassett how much she lovedand thanked her for all her patient and faithful care during the sixmonths now nearly over. But she was proud, and humility was hard tolearn; self-will was sweet, and to own one's self in the wrong amost distasteful task. The penitent did not know how to begin, sowaited for an opportunity, and presently it came.

  "Shall you be glad to get home, Jenny?" she asked in her mostcaressing tone, as she hung her prettiest locket round her friend'sneck; for during this illness all formality and coolness had meltedaway, and "Miss Bassett" was "Jenny dear" now.

  "I shall be very, very glad to see my precious people again, andtell them all about my splendid holiday; but I can't help wishingthat we were to stay till spring, now that we are here, and I haveno teaching, and may never get such another chance. I'm afraid itseems ungrateful when I've had so much; but to go back withoutseeing Rome is a trial, I confess," answered honest Jane, rubbingaway at a very dull paste bandeau.

  "So it is; but I don't mind so much, because I shall come againby-and-by, and I mean to be better prepared to enjoy things properlythan I am now. I'll really study this winter, and not be such afool. Jenny, I've a plan in my head. I wonder if you'd like it? Ishould immensely, and I'm going to propose it to Mamma the minute Iget home," said Ethel, glad to seize this opening.

  "What is it, deary?"

  "Would you like to be my governess and teach me all you know,quietly, at home this winter? I don't want to begin school againjust for languages and a few finishing things, and I really thinkyou would do more for me than any one else, because you know what Ineed, and are so patient with your bad, ungrateful, saucy girl.Could you? would you come?" and Ethel put her arms round Jenny'sneck with a little sob and a kiss that was far more precious to Janethan the famous diamond necklace of Marie Antoinette, which she hadbeen reading about.

  "I could and I would with all my heart, if you want me, darling! Ithink we know and love each other now, and can be happy and helpfultogether, and I'll come so gladly if your mother asks me," answeredJenny, quick to understand what underlay this sudden tenderness, andglad to accept the atonement offered her for many trials which shewould never have told even to her own mother.

  Ethel was her best self now, and her friend felt well rewarded forthe past by this promise of real love and mutual help in the future.So they talked over the new plan in great spirits till Mrs. Homercame to bring them their share of a packet of home letters justarrived. She saw that something unusual was going on, but onlysmiled, nodded, and went away saying,--

  "I have good news in MY letters, and hope yours will make youequally happy, girls."

  Silence reigned for a time, as they sat reading busily; then asudden exclamation from Ethel seemed to produce a strange effectupon Jenny, for with a cry of joy she sprang up and danced all overthe room, waving her letter wildly as she cried out,--

  "I'm to go! I'm to go! I can't believe it--but here it is! Howkind, how very kind, every one is to me!" and down she went upon herown little bed to hide her face and laugh and cry till Ethel ran torejoice with her.

  "Oh, Jenny, I'm so glad! You deserve it, and it's like Mrs. Homer tomake all smooth before she said a word. Let me read what Mammawrites to you. Here's my letter; see how sweetly she speaks of you,and how grateful they are for all you've done for me."

  The letters changed hands; and sitting side by side in anaffectionate bunch, the girls read the happy news that granted thecherished wish of one and gave the other real unselfish pleasure inanother's happiness.

  Jane was to go to Rome with the Homers for the winter, and perhapsto Greece in the spring. A year of delight lay before her, offeredin such a friendly way, and with such words of commendation, thanks,and welcome, that the girl's heart was full, and she felt that everysmall sacrifice of feeling, every lonely hour, and distasteful dutywas richly repaid by this rare opportunity to enjoy still furtherdraughts of the wisdom, beauty, and poetry of the wonderful worldnow open to her.

  She flew off presently to try to thank her good friends, and cameback dragging a light new trunk, in which she nearly buried hersmall self as she excitedly explained its appearance, while rattlingout the trays and displaying its many conveniences.

  "That dear woman says I'm to send my presents home in the old one byyou, and take this to fill up in Rome. Think of it! A lovely newFrench trunk, and Rome full of pictures, statues, St. Peter's, andthe Colosseum. It takes my breath away and makes my head spin."

  "So I see. It's a capital box, but it won't hold even St. Peter's,dear; so you'd better calm down and pack your treasures. I'll help,"cried Ethel, sweeping about in her gay gown, almost as wild as Jane,who was quite upset by this sudden delicious change in herprospects.

  How happily she laid away in the old trunk the few gifts she hadventured to buy, and those given her,--the glossy silk, the daintylace, the pretty crystals, the store of gloves, the flask ofcologne, the pictures and books, and last of all the sketches whichillustrated the journal kept so carefully for those at home.

  "Now, when my letter is written and the check with all that is leftof my salary put in, I am done. There's room for more, and I wishI'd got something else, now I feel so rich. But it is foolish to buygowns to pay duties on, when I don't know what the girls need. Ifeel so rich now, I shall fly out and pick up some more littlepretties for the dears. They have so few,
anything will be charmingto them," said Jenny, proudly surveying her box, and looking aboutfor some foreign trifle with which to fill up the corners.

  "Then let me put these in, and so be rid of them. I shall go to seeyour people and tell them all about you, and explain how you came tosend so much rubbish."

  As she spoke Ethel slipped in several Swiss carvings, the best ofthe trinkets, and a parcel of dainty Parisian ties and sashes whichwould gladden the hearts of the poor, pretty girls, just beginningto need such aids to their modest toilets. A big box of bonbonscompleted her contribution, and left but one empty corner.

  "I'll tuck in my old hat to keep all steady; the girls will like itwhen they dress up, and I'm fond of it, because it recalls some ofmy happiest days," said Jenny, as she took up the well-worn hat andbegan to dust it. A shower of grain dropped into her hand, for theyellow wheat still kept its place and recalled the chat atSchwalbach. Ethel glanced at her own hat with its faded artificialflowers; and as her eye went from the small store of treasures socarefully and happily gathered to the strew of almost useless fineryon her bed, she said soberly,--

  "You were right, Jenny. My poppies are worthless, and my harvest avery poor one. Your wheat fell in good ground, and you will glean awhole stack before you go home. Well, I shall keep MY old hat toremind me of you: and when I come again, I hope I shall have a wiserhead to put into a new one."