"
Isabel smiled and glanced at Madame Bernard's lavender satin slipper.
The old lady laughed and the soft colour came into her pretty face.
"I frankly admit that I've passed it," she said. "Better one pair of
shoes than ten sky-rockets, if the shoes are the sort I like."
"Do they come often?" queried Isabel, reverting to the subject of the
twins.
"Not as often as I'd like to have them, but it doesn't do to urge them.
I can only keep my windows open and let the wind from the clover field
blow in as it will."
"Do they live near a clover field?" inquired Isabel, perplexed.
"No, but they remind me of it--they're so breezy and wholesome, so free
and untrammelled, and, at heart, so sweet."
"I hope they'll come again soon."
"So do I, for I don't want you to be lonely, Isabel. It was good of your
mother to let you come."
"Mamma doesn't care what I do," observed Isabel, placidly. "She's always
busy."
Madame Bernard checked the sharp retort that rose to her lips. What
Isabel had said was quite true. Mrs. Ross was so interested in what she
called "The New Thought" and "The Higher World Service" that she had
neither time nor inclination for the old thought and simple service that
make--and keep--a home.
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