If Alec Caruth did not find a present from his former child-friend beneath the spreading boughs of the lighted Christmas-tree, he was not wholly discontented. Whilst others were admiring their gifts, he managed to whisper a demand for one which was more precious in his eyes than all beside. "You know what I want, dear Joyce," he pleaded. "Not a gift, only a fair exchange. One true heart in return for another. You have mine. You have had it for years, and you—" He looked inquiringly. "I am afraid I have none to give you in return," she whispered. A great fear filled his heart for a moment, but once more Alec Caruth looked at Joyce's blushing face and read the true answer to his petition. "I believe you say this because, dear Joyce, it was mine already. Tell me, darling, am I right?" But Joyce did not speak. Nevertheless, Alec was content, and a little later, he told his mother that Joyce had given him the best of Christmas presents—her own sweet self. So the little Rosses lost their former maid and present governess, but kept always their friend in her who soon became Joyce Caruth. On the Christmas-tree at Springfield that year, Joyce found the ring that Adelaide had offered her on her twenty-first birthday. The girl sent it to be placed there, and Joyce gladly accepted what she felt to be a token of true cousinly love, and told her so. In after days, when the once penniless niece was a happy wife, Mrs. Walter Evans was heard to declare that Joyce had improved wonderfully. But then, in her eyes, wealth and position were the greatest of all claims to respect. Without these all other excellences were as nothing. No need to tell the names of the many who rejoiced to see the happiness of her who, as Joyce Mirlees, had tried to make others happy, or to say that none of these were forgotten by Joyce Caruth. Beneath her roof, Captain Tyson met his fate, in the person of Adelaide Evans, and there, too, Mr. Evans is a frequent guest. "To think that you should choose one who for awhile was 'only a servant,'" said Joyce to her husband, some time after their marriage. "Dearest," he answered, "that word servant always brings pleasant thoughts to my mind. As a soldier, I was ever proud to call myself the servant of Queen and country; but I rejoice more when I think of Him who took upon Himself the form of a servant, and came on earth, not to be ministered unto, but to minister. Faithful service to an earthly master is right honourable, but to be the faithful, humble servant of God is far better than to be a king amongst men. May it be your lot and mine, dear Joyce, thus to serve!" And with Christmas bells bringing to mind thoughts of the first Christmas morning, Joyce whispered "Amen." THE END.