FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 1:  Editorial in old copy of Youth’s Companion.]

Joyce finished and looked up inquiringly.  She still did not see what connection the road could have with Betty’s distress over the measles.

“Now, don’t you see?” asked Betty, tremulously, “It is for godmother that I wanted to build that road, for ever since I came she has been like Tusitala to me.  ‘The day is no longer than her kindness.’  Oh, Joyce, nobody knows how good she has been to me!” Then between her sobs she told Joyce again the story of the gold beads, and the many things her godmother had done to make her visit a continual delight.  Mrs. Sherman, outside the door, felt her eyes grow dim and her cheeks wet, as the child babbled on, reciting a long list of little kindnesses that she had treasured in her memory, and that her godmother had either done unconsciously, or had forgotten long ago.

It showed how hungry the poor little heart had been, that such trifles could make it brim over with gratitude.  She wiped her eyes more than once as the voice went on.

“Of course I couldn’t dig a road like those chiefs did, and she wouldn’t have wanted one, even if I could; but I thought maybe I could leave a memory behind me when this beautiful visit is done, that would be like a smooth, white road.  You know remembering things is like looking back over a road.  At least it always seemed that way to me, and the unpleasant things that have happened are like the stones and rocks that we stumble over.  But if there haven’t been any unpleasant things to remember, then we can look back and see it stretched out behind us, all smooth and white and shining.

“So I tried from the very first of my visit to leave nothing behind me for her memory to stumble over; not a frown, a cross word, or a single disobedience.  That’s why I wouldn’t go with you that day to have my fortune told.  It would have spoiled my ‘Road of the Loving Heart,’ and put a stone in it that would always have made godmother sorry when she thought of my visit.

“That’s why I came back from the picnic at the old mill and missed the charades.  It would have spoiled the road if I hadn’t kept my promise,—­kept it to the utmost.  And now after all the days I have tried so hard, it is going to be spoiled because I’ve gone and got sick.  I’ll be so much care and trouble that the Memory Road will be all spoiled—­my ‘Road of the Loving Heart!’”

Betty was so exhausted by this time, that she was not crying any longer; but now and then a long sob shook the little body from head to foot.  Joyce, not knowing what to say, slipped away and went out into the hall.

“So that is the cause of the child’s distress,” whispered Mrs. Sherman.  “Bless her little heart, now I’ve found out what is the matter, maybe I can succeed in quieting her.”

What she said to comfort her the girls never knew, for the door closed behind her and they stole away to their own rooms.