Keineth

Dreaming, cherie?” and add, “the books will wait!” Now—as the child sat balanced on the edge of an old rocker watching Tante tenderly and carefully placing her books into a heavy box—she felt that this beloved order of things was changing before her eyes. For, with Tante gone, who was to take care of her? And heavy on the child’s heart lay the fear that it might be Aunt Josephine. The little woman dropped a book to kiss the child—also for the hundredth time. “I have an old mOther, and a sister, and six nephews and nieces over there—they need me now, more than you do, cherie!” “Run out in the park for a little while, dear. I must talk to Madame Henri