This is a story of a woman who having no beauty of face or form was deprived for a time of the beautiful things of life. Then she prayed to the God of men and He gave her material success. Having this she raised her eyes from the earth which had been her battlefield and made a vow that she would take what was possible from the odds and ends of happiness and weave what she could into love and service. Through this she won a reward far beyond her wildest dreams and found peace and joy. "You are a strange man"—she said to him who discovered her. "You are a very strange woman, Mam’selle"—he returned. Besides these two there are: Captain Longville—and his wife Marcel. Pierre Gavot—and his wife Margot who found life paid because of her boy Tom. Old Father Mantelle—more friend than priest who helped them all. But Dan Kelly—of Dan’s Place—better known as The Atmosphere—made life difficult for them all. Then after a time the Lindsays of the Walled House drew things together and opened a new vista. Here we find: Man-Andy; called by some, The Final Test, or Old Testy. James Norval—who had some talent and an occasional flash of genius. Katherine Norval, his wife, who from the highest motives nearly drove him to hell. There are Sister Angela with the convenient memory and Little Sister Mary with the Lost Look. Mary Maiden who happened into the story for a second only. And lastly: Tom Gavot who dreamed of roads, played with roads, made roads, and at last found The Right Road which led him to the top, from that high point he saw—who can tell what? And—Donelle who early prayed that she might be part of life and vowed that she was willing to suffer and pay. Life took her at her word, and used her. *MAM’SELLE JO* *CHAPTER I* *MAM’SELLE JO IS SET FREE* One late afternoon in September Jo Morey—she was better known in the village of Point of Pines as Mam’selle Jo—stood on the tiny lawn lying between her trim white house and the broad highway, lifted her eyes from the earth, that had long been her battlefield, and murmured aloud as lonely people often do, "Mine! Mine! Mine!" She did not say this arrogantly, but, rather, reverently. It was like a prayer of appreciation to the only God she recognized; a just God who had crowned her efforts with success. Not to a loving God could Mam’selle pray, for love had been denied her; not to a beautiful God, for Jo had yet to find beauty in her hard and narrow life; but to the Power that had vindicated Itself she was ready to do homage. "Mine! Mine! Mine!"