"There, that is right. Now look how pretty the park is, and see the deer under the trees. They feed out of our hands, and they will know you very soon, because you will be with us."
Joyce saw that her new surroundings would be even more beautiful than her uncle's home, and she drank in with delight the loveliness which met her eyes on every side, whilst Mary prattled unceasingly till they reached the house. There she was met by a pleasant, motherly person, who introduced herself as Mrs. Powell, the housekeeper, and led her upstairs to a good-sized cheerful room, very comfortably furnished, and opening into a still larger one, in which were two little beds. Both rooms again opened into the day nursery, a delightful apartment, in which everything suggested the personal superintendence of a thoughtful, loving mother.
The little girls had been taken charge of by Mrs. Ross's maid, Paterson, and the housekeeper told Joyce that when she was ready she was to come to her own room for refreshment.
"Here are your boxes in good time," said Mrs. Powell; and thus Joyce was able to make the needed change in her dress. She was about to go down, when, recollecting her new position, she turned back for one of the aprons, ironed so carefully by Sarah Keene's hands, and over which, as badges of coming servitude for her darling, she had shed many a tear.
"Never mind," thought Joyce; "they are honourable badges, so long as they accompany faithful performance of duty, work done as in God's sight, and depending for its success on His blessing."
So, with a bright face, the reflection of a brave heart, she went down, after having occupied a few moments in thanking God for a safe journey and a kind reception.
"I always have an early cup of tea," said Mrs. Powell, "and I thought it would be the best for you, along with something more substantial, after a journey. Your future meals will be taken upstairs with the children. Mrs. Ross will see you in the morning; but she and the master are away—only for the day; they will be back to-night. My mistress trusted you to me, and I promised to make you comfortable," said Mrs. Powell, with a look of great kindness in her motherly face.
"It was very good of her to leave me in such hands," said Joyce, with an answering smile. Then Mrs. Powell dropped her voice to a whisper—
"Let me say a word about yourself, my dear. My mistress trusts me, and she said—only to me, mind—that the friend who wrote in answer to her inquiries had told her a little of your history. How that you were a lady, used to be served instead of serving others, and that if you chose to accept a home with her, there was one open to you; but that you preferred service to a life of dependence."
"What did Mrs. Ross say? I hope she did not think I wished to deceive her in any way," said Joyce.