“But they say that it is pitiful to see how greatly the child fears his uncle.  He does not understand the old man’s cold, forbidding manner, and it provokes monsieur to have the little one tremble and grow pale whenever he speaks.  Clotilde says that Madame Greville told monsieur that the boy needed games and young companions to make him more like other children, and he promised her that Monsieur Jules should come over here to-morrow afternoon to play with you.”

“Oh, good!” cried Joyce.  “We’ll have another barbecue if the day is fine.  I am so glad that we do not have to be bothered any more by those tiresome old goats.”

By the time the next afternoon arrived, however, Joyce was far too much interested in something else to think of a barbecue.  Cousin Kate had come back from Paris with a trunk full of pretty things, and a plan for the coming Christmas.  At first she thought of taking only madame into her confidence, and preparing a small Christmas tree for Joyce; but afterwards she concluded that it would give the child more pleasure if she were allowed to take part in the preparations.  It would keep her from being homesick by giving her something else to think about.

Then madame proposed inviting a few of the little peasant children who had never seen a Christmas tree.  The more they discussed the plan the larger it grew, like a rolling snowball.  By lunch-time madame had a list of thirty children, who were to be bidden to the Noel fete, and Cousin Kate had decided to order a tree tall enough to touch the ceiling.

When Jules came over, awkward and shy with the consciousness of his new clothes, he found Joyce sitting in the midst of yards of gaily colored tarletan.  It was heaped up around her in bright masses of purple and orange and scarlet and green, and she was making it into candy-bags for the tree.

In a few minutes Jules had forgotten all about himself, and was as busy as she, pinning the little stocking-shaped patterns in place, and carefully cutting out those fascinating bags.

“You would be lots of help,” said Joyce, “if you could come over every day, for there’s all the ornaments to unpack, and the corn to shell, and pop, and string.  It will take most of my time to dress the dolls, and there’s such a short time to do everything in.”

“You never saw any pop-corn, did you, Jules?” asked Cousin Kate.  “When I was here last time, I couldn’t find it anywhere in France; but the other day a friend told me of a grocer in Paris, who imports it for his American customers every winter.  So I went there.  Joyce, suppose you get the popper and show Jules what the corn is like.”

Madame was interested also, as she watched the little brown kernels shaken back and forth in their wire cage over the glowing coals.  When they began popping open, the little seeds suddenly turning into big white blossoms, she sent Rosalie running to bring monsieur to see the novel sight.