BARBARA CAREW lived in a practical world, while May lived in an imaginative one. Barbara was always devising some means to help someone, or do something, while little May was dreaming of royal palaces and untasted joys. So Barbara amused her brothers and sisters; was always ready to run out to the hens, or follow Mrs. Giah to the farm to look for eggs, or to climb up into the empty carts with her brothers, while May would be seated in a corner of the hayloft, talking to her doll, or buried in the "Arabian Nights." That afternoon, just as Lucia was wondering what she should do with herself, she heard cartwheels lumbering up the lane which led to the back of the cottage. This was such an unusual sound, that the children ran out to see what it could be. "It is a great van sort of thing," exclaimed Ivor, racing back to tell his sister. "I've seen them like it in London, but I don't know what's in it, I'm sure." Nurse, who was standing looking on, peeped through the hedge at Ivor's description, and finally went down the garden into the lane too. Two men were in charge of the cart, and one stepped forward with a note. "For Miss Carew," he said. Nurse was greatly astonished, and looked back to where Lucia was standing in the porch, framed by the roses and honeysuckle. "For me?" asked Lucia, coming down the path. Then she saw her mother's handwriting, and tearing the envelope open, saw within— "For my dear Lucia, with her mother's love." "Whatever is it?" said Evan excitedly. While the man went to the back of the van with a key, saying in a very matter-of-fact voice, "A cottage piano, miss. Where is it to go?" Lucia could not believe the evidence of her eyes. A piano! Was not the lack of this one of the things which had caused her such discontent in coming here? Had she not said to herself bitterly that mother quite forgot what it would be to give up her music for three months, nor how stiff her fingers would get, nor how out of practice her voice! And here—here was a little bijou of a piano, apparently for her very own! Lucia hung her head to hide the tears of contrition which filled her eyes. Was this another of those things which "her Father" knew and provided for? And if He could so lovingly care for even this, would He not care for all that concerned her? So, while the men made their preparations to carry in the little instrument, Lucia was sending up a joyful thanksgiving for the heavenly love which had given her so great a pleasure through her mother's earthly love. Where the piano was to stand was of course the next thing, and everybody ran back to the little drawing room to see what would be the best place before the men got to the door. Lucia found that there was a niche which seemed to ask to be filled, so that there was not a moment's doubt as to where the new treasure was to go. "I shall be able to get on with my music now," remarked Barbara; "I was afraid Miss Lewis would think I had forgotten it all."