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"I belong to Grandmother Marshall, and she is out driving." "Then I shall wait until your Grandmother Marshall comes home from her drive," said Madame Laurin decidedly. Half an hour later a very much surprised old lady was listening to Madame Laurin's enthusiastic statements.
It was Little Joyce's awkward, unMarshall-like fashion to go to a place by the shortest way there, even if it was up the kitchen stairs. Madame Laurin stood in the bare little room and looked pityingly at the wasted, wistful face on the pillow. "This is Madame Laurin, and she is going to sing for you, Denise," whispered Little Joyce. Denise's face lighted up, and she clasped her hands.
"This child must be trained by-and-by," said Madame Laurin. "If you cannot afford it, Mrs. Marshall, I will see to it. Such a voice must not be wasted." "Thank you, Madame Laurin," said Grandmother Marshall with a gracious dignity, "but I am quite able to give my granddaughter all the necessary advantages for the development of her gift. And I thank you very much for telling me of it."
The Pasha replied that he would be back on Friday. August 7th. Monsieur Laurin sent a message to the effect that the Pasha had told him that he would grant our request. Colonel Hodges called to confer with Sir Moses on the subject. August 8th. The Grand Vizier directed a letter to the Pasha, of which the following is a translation:
"What is the favour you want to ask of Madame Laurin?" inquired the lady, smiling. "I want to ask her if she will come and sing for Denise before she dies before Denise dies, I mean. Denise is our French girl, and the doctor says she cannot live very long, and she wishes with all her heart to hear Madame Laurin sing.
Perhaps it would be well to ask advice of this lady. "If you please," said Little Joyce, who was never shy with strangers, for whose opinion she didn't care at all, "I want to see Madame Laurin at the hotel and ask her to do me a very great favour. Will you tell me the best way to go about seeing her? I shall be much obliged to you."
Little Joyce went and sat down by the window, looking out into the white birches. Her heart ached bitterly. Dear Denise was going to die soon oh, very soon! Little Joyce, wise and knowing beyond her years, saw that. And Denise wanted to hear Madame Laurin sing.
Madame Laurin bent and kissed Little Joyce's brown cheek. "Little gypsy, good-by. But come every day to this hotel to see me. And next summer I shall be back. I like you because some day you will be a great singer and because today you are a loving, unselfish baby." "You have forgotten the little black doll, Madame," said Little Joyce gravely. Madame threw up her hands, laughing.
She lay on her little bed by the low window, where the glow of the sunset was coming in; her hollow cheeks were scarlet with fever. "Oh! I want so much to hear Madame Laurin sing," she sobbed. "I feel lak I could die easier if I hear her sing just one leetle song. She is Frenchwoman, too, and she sing all de ole French songs de ole songs my mudder sing long 'go. Oh!
When Madame Laurin had gone, Grandmother Marshall looked at Little Joyce. "Come to my room, Joyce. I want to see if we cannot find a more becoming way of arranging your hair. It has grown so thick and long. I had no idea how thick and long. Yes, we must certainly find a better way than that stiff braid. Come!" Little Joyce, taking Grandmother Marshall's extended hand, felt very happy.
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