or will I have to try my stumbling French on you? What is your name?"
"It is Jeanne, M'sieu!" lisped the child, sweetly, and Tom was more than ever drawn toward her when he saw the appealing smile on her face.
"Jeanne, is it? A very pretty name too. Jeanne what?" he went on. And as Tom always won the confidence of children by his kindly manner she drew closer to him, and he took her little hand in his and squeezed it.
"Jeanne Anstey, M'sieu. And my sister's name, it is Helene," she told him.
"Oh! then you have a sister, have you?" Tom continued. "Where is Helene just now, Jeanne?"
The child's eyes immediately filled with tears. Still, with a queer little French shrug that was almost comical in one so very young, she said pathetically:
"Ah, M'sieu, it is the pity that I do not know. That bad man took her away while my poor mamma lay dying, trying to hold Helene. Me, mamma hid from the man. I sometimes wish it had been me he took on his horse with him, instead of Helene."
Tom began to wonder what lay back of all this. He looked toward Jack, to see that the other had paused in his reading as if to listen.
"Tell you all about it as soon as I get through this letter from my mother, Tom," the other re-
