“Please sit down, Miss Joslyn,” said Mrs. Driscoll.

“Well, just for a minute,” replied the young lady, taking the offered chair, “but I wish you would finish your supper.”

“We had, really,” replied Mrs. Driscoll, smiling, “or I shouldn’t have been playing such a game by the door.  You haven’t been the giver of all these valentines, I suppose?”

“Oh, no, indeed.  Those are from some of the school children, no doubt.  I’ve been trying to find an evening to come here for some time, but my work isn’t done when school is out.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” replied Mrs. Driscoll, while Alma sat with her dove in her hands, watching the bright face that looked happy and at home in these unusual surroundings.  It seemed so very strange to be close to Miss Joslyn, like this, where the teacher had no bell to touch and no directions to give.

She looked at Alma and spoke:  “The public school is a little hard for new scholars at first,” she said, “where they enter in the middle of a term.  You are going to like it better after a while, Alma.”

“I think she will, too,” put in Mrs. Driscoll.  “My hours are long at the factory and I have liked to think of Alma as safe in school.  Does she do pretty well in her studies, Miss Joslyn?”

“Yes, I have no fault to find.”  The visitor smiled at Alma.  “You haven’t become much acquainted yet,” went on Miss Joslyn.  “I have noticed that you eat your lunch alone.  So do I. Supposing you and I have it together for a while until you are more at home with the other scholars.  I have another chair in my corner, and we’ll have a cosy time.”

Alma’s heart beat fast.  She had never heard that an invitation from royalty is equivalent to a command, but instantly all possibility of staying at home from school disappeared.  The picture rose before her thought of Miss Joslyn as she always appeared at the long recess:  her chair swung about until her profile only was visible, the white napkin on her desk, the book in her hand as she read and ate at one and the same time.  Little did Alma suspect what it meant to the kind teacher to give up that precious half-hour of solitude; but Miss Joslyn saw the child’s eyes grow bright at the dazzling prospect, and noted the color that covered even her forehead as she murmured thanks and looked over at her mother for sympathy.

The young lady talked on for a few minutes and then said good-night, leaving an atmosphere of brightness behind her.

“Oh, mother, I don’t know what all the children will say,” said Alma, clasping her hands together.  “I’m going to eat lunch with Miss Joslyn!”

“It’s fine,” responded Mrs. Driscoll, glad of the change in her little girl’s expression, and wishing the ache at her own heart could be as easily comforted.  “Do you suppose Valentine’s Day is over, dearie, or had I better stand by the door again?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t send me any more!” replied Alma, looking fondly at her dove.  “I think Lucy Berry was so kind to give me her lovely things; but I’d like to give them back.”