Rhoda and Isa went home for holidays, and there they found matters altered indeed. The cold bare cell which Isa had always occupied was exchanged for one of the best rooms in the house, newly fitted up with everything that Isa could be supposed to fancy, including a superb work-table and a most commodious tank for Diogenes, the turtle, which Isa had brought along. An adjoining room was prepared for Rhoda. Isa was delighted. "How good you are, pa!" said she. "I always did want a nice, pretty room, with an open fire in it, and some plants. You do love me if I am not awful smart, don't you, pa?" Perhaps nothing more showed the change in Mr. Ferrand than the fact that he allowed this expression to pass without criticism, thinking with a pang, as he received Isa's offered kiss, how easily he might have let his simpleminded child grow up a happy and useful woman. Isa's holidays were very pleasant. She helped to get up the Christmas tree at "The Home," which was a great affair; and they had another at home which Marion pronounced the very bonniest thing she ever saw. "Eh, if we had only had such doings before, I'm thinking the dear lass would have been different the day," said she to Rhoda. "It just breaks my heart to look at her and her father. Poor gentleman! He has a sore heart the night." Isa went back to school in very good spirits and seeming decidedly better, but she soon began to droop again. Once or twice Rhoda found her crying, but could not get at the cause of her grief. "Do you want to go home, dear? Is that it?" ask Rhoda, at last. "Tell your own Rhoda." Isa threw her arms around her friend's neck and laid her head down on her shoulder. "Oh, Rhoda, I do, I want to go home, where I needn't hear the piano nor the girls singing. It goes through and through my head, and I hear it all night long." "Then you shall go home," said Rhoda. "I will speak to Miss Hardy this very day." Miss Hardy was consulted, and in her turn consulted Dr. Douglass. The result was that Mr. Ferrand was written to and came down as soon as possible. "But you won't think of taking Rhoda away?" said Miss Hardy. "She is doing wonders with her music and mathematics." Mr. Ferrand looked at Rhoda, who answered quietly for herself: "I think I shall have to go for the present, Miss Hardy. I don't think Isa would be happy without me." "But your music, my child? You know Isa cannot bear the sound of the piano or singing. It seems to drive her nearly distracted, and there is nothing one loses so quickly as music." "I can pick it up again," said Rhoda. "My music is not as important as Isa's comfort." "My dear, it is a great sacrifice," said Mr. Ferrand. "I hardly think we ought to ask it. You have always been so anxious to pursue your education, and you have just made an admirable beginning."