She was with her mother and Miss Dawson now, in the pretty sitting-room where, fifteen months previously, she had made the latter's acquaintance. But there was nothing of the invalid about Miss Dawson to-day; she looked in good health and spirits, and laughed heartily at the sight of Mavis' bewildered countenance. "What is it you can hardly believe, eh?" asked Mr. Dawson, as he entered the room. "I have been telling her that you mean to build and endow a convalescent home in the country for girls, as a thanks-offering to God for my recovery, father," Miss Dawson said, answering for Mavis, "and that her mother is to be the matron, and she can scarcely credit it. Still, I think she approves of our plan." "Oh yes, yes!" cried Mavis. "It's just what I should wish to do if I were you," she proceeded frankly, looking at Mr. Dawson with approval in her glance, and then turning her soft hazel eyes meaningly upon his daughter, "and you couldn't have a better matron than mother—" "Mavis! My dear!" interrupted Mrs. Grey. "It's quite true," declared Miss Dawson. Then she went on to explain to Mavis that the home was to be within easy reach of London, and it was to be a home of rest for sick working-girls, where they would have good nursing. "I think it's a beautiful plan," said Mavis, earnestly. She realized that it meant permanent work for her mother, too; and turning to her she inquired, "Shall I be able to live with you, mother?" "Yes, dear, I hope so," Mrs. Grey answered, with a reassuring smile. "Oh yes, of course," said Miss Dawson. And the little girl's heart beat with joy. She remained silent for a while after that, listening to the conversation of her elders, and meditating on what wonderful news this would be for them all at the Mill House. Then her mind travelled to Mr. Moseley, and her face grew grave, as she thought of those two delicate girls so dear to him, who had faded and died. But it brightened, as she reflected how nice it must be to be rich, like Mr. Dawson, to be able to help those not so well off as himself. She was aroused from her reverie by Miss Dawson, who asked her to sing a carol to them, and she willingly complied, singing the same she had sung at the village concert at W— nearly a year before. Afterwards, she gave them an account of the concert, and expressed the hope that she would be a great singer some day. "Why, Mavis, I never knew such an idea had entered your head!" exclaimed her mother, greatly surprised. "It never did, mother, until Mr. Moseley told me I had a great gift, and that God expected me to use it for the benefit of others," the little girl replied, seriously. "Surely he was right!" said Miss Dawson. And with that Mrs. Grey agreed. Later in the evening, when Mavis went to the window and peeped out to see what the weather was like, she felt an arm steal around her shoulders, and Miss Dawson asked— "What of the night? Are we going to have a fine Christmas?"