Part 10 (1/2)

”Where is your tree?” asked Joyce. ”May I see it?”

Jules pointed to the closet. ”It's in there,” he said, proudly. ”I trimmed it with pieces that Marie swept up to burn. Oh, shut the door!

Quick!” he cried, excitedly, as a step was heard in the hall. ”I don't want anybody to see it before the time comes.”

The step was Henri's. He had come to say that Marie was waiting to take mademoiselle home. Joyce was glad of the interruption. She could not say anything in praise of the poor little tree, and she knew that Jules expected her to. She felt relieved that Henri's presence made it impossible for her to express any opinion.

She bade Jules good-by gaily, but went home with such a sober little face that Cousin Kate began to question her about her visit. Madame, sitting by the window with her embroidery-frame, heard the account also.

Several times she looked significantly across at Cousin Kate, over the child's head.

”Joyce,” said Cousin Kate, ”you have had so little outdoor exercise since Jules's accident that it would be a good thing for you to run around in the garden awhile before dark.”

Joyce had not seen madame's glances, but she felt vaguely that Cousin Kate was making an excuse to get rid of her. She was disappointed, for she thought that her account of monsieur's queer actions and Jules's little tree would have made a greater impression on her audience. She went out obediently, walking up and down the paths with her hands in her jacket pockets, and her red tam-o'shanter pulled down over her eyes. The big white cat followed her, ran on ahead, and then stopped, arching its back as if waiting for her to stroke it. Taking no notice of it, Joyce turned aside to the pear-tree and climbed up among the highest branches.

The cat rubbed against the tree, mewing and purring by turns, then sprang up in the tree after her. She took the warm, furry creature in her arms and began talking to it.

”Oh, Solomon,” she said, ”what do you suppose is the matter over there?

My poor old lady must be monsieur's sister, or she couldn't have looked exactly like that picture, and he would not have acted so queerly. What do you suppose it is that he can never forgive? Why did he call me in there and then drive me out in such a crazy way, and tramp around the room, and put his head down on his arms as if he were crying?”

Solomon purred louder and closed his eyes.

”Oh, you dear, comfortable old thing,” exclaimed Joyce, giving the cat a shake. ”Wake up and take some interest in what I am saying. I wish you were as smart as Puss in Boots; then maybe you could find out what is the matter. How I wish fairy tales could be true! I'd say 'Giant scissors, right the wrong and open the gate that's been shut so long,'

There! Did you hear that, Solomon Greville? I said a rhyme right off without waiting to make it up. Then the scissors would leap down and cut the misunderstanding or trouble or whatever it is, and the gate would fly open, and there the brother and sister would meet each other.

All the unhappy years would be forgotten, and they'd take each other by the hand, just as they did when they were little children, Martin and Desire, and go into the old home together,--on Christmas Day, in the morning.”

Joyce was half singing her words now, as she rocked the cat back and forth in her arms. ”And then the scissors would bring Jules a magnificent big tree, and he'd never be afraid of his uncle any more.

Oh, they'd all have such a happy time on Christmas Day, in the morning!”

Joyce had fully expected to be homesick all during the holidays; but now she was so absorbed in other people's troubles, and her day-dreams to make everybody happy, that she forgot all about herself. She fairly bubbled over with the peace and good-will of the approaching Christmas-tide, and rocked the cat back and forth in the pear-tree to the tune of a happy old-time carol.

A star or two twinkled out through the gloaming, and, looking up beyond them through the infinite stretches of s.p.a.ce, Joyce thought of a verse that she and Jack had once learned together, one rainy Sunday at her Grandmother Ware's, sitting on a little stool at the old lady's feet:

”Behold thou hast made the heaven and the earth by thy great power and outstretched arm, and _there is nothing too hard for thee._” Her heart gave a bound at the thought. Why should she be sitting there longing for fairy tales to be true, when the great Hand that had set the stars to swinging could bring anything to pa.s.s; could even open that long-closed gate and bring the brother and sister together again, and send happiness to little Jules?

Joyce lifted her eyes again and looked up, out past the stars. ”Oh, if you please, G.o.d,” she whispered, ”for the little Christ-child's sake.”

When Joyce went back to the house, Cousin Kate sat in the drawing-room alone. Madame had gone over to see Jules, and did not return until long after dark. Berthe had been in three times to ask monsieur if dinner should be served, before they heard her ring at the gate. When she finally came, there was such an air of mystery about her that Joyce was puzzled. All that next morning, too, the day before Christmas, it seemed to Joyce as if something unusual were afloat. Everybody in the house was acting strangely.

Madame and Cousin Kate did not come home to lunch. She had been told that she must not go to see Jules until afternoon, and the doors of the room where the Christmas tree was kept had all been carefully locked.

She thought that the morning never would pa.s.s. It was nearly three o'clock when she started over to see Jules. To her great surprise, as she ran lightly up the stairs to his room, she saw her Cousin Kate hurrying across the upper hall, with a pile of rose-colored silk curtains in her arms.

Jules tried to raise himself up in bed as Joyce entered, forgetting all about his broken leg in his eagerness to tell the news. ”Oh, what do you think!” he cried. ”They said that I might be the one to tell you. She _is_ Uncle Martin's sister, the old woman you told about yesterday, and he is going to bring her home to-morrow.”

Joyce sank into a chair with a little gasp at the suddenness of his news. She had not expected this beautiful ending of her day-dreams to be brought about so soon, although she had hoped that it would be sometime.

”How did it all happen?” she cried, with a beaming face. ”Tell me about it! Quick!”