eart be troubled, neither let it be afraid._"

CHAPTER IV

_In Which Three Kings Come to Crossroads._

ANNE'S budget of news to her Great-uncle Rod swelled to unusual
proportions in the week following the opening of Crossroads. She had so
much to say to him, and there was no one else to whom she could speak
with such freedom and frankness.

_By the Round Stove._

MY DEAR:

I am sending this as an antidote for my doleful Sunday screed. Now that
the Lovely Ladies are gone, I am myself again!

I know that you are saying, "You should never have been anything but
yourself." That's all very well for you who know Me-Myself, but these
people know only the Outside-Person part of me, and the Outside-Person
part is stiff and old-fashioned, and self-conscious. You see it has been
so many months since I have hobnobbed with Lilies-of-the-Field and with
Solomons-in-all-their-Glory. And even when I did hobnob with them it was
for such a little time, and it ended so heart-breakingly. But I am not
going to talk of that, or I shall weep and wail again, and that wouldn't
be fair to you.

The last Old Gentleman left yesterday in the wake of the Lovely Ladies.
Did I tell you that Brinsley Tyson is a cousin of Mrs. Brooks? His twin
brother, David, lives up the road. Brinsley is the city mouse and David
is the country one. They are as different as you can possibly imagine.
Brinsley is fat and round and red, and David is thin and tall and pale.
Yet there is the "twin look" in their faces. The high noses and square
chins. Neither of them wears a beard. None of the Old Gentlemen does. Why
is it? Is hoary-headed age a thing of the dark and distant past? Are you
the only one left whose silver banner blows in the breeze? Are the
grandfathers all trying to look like boys to match the grandmothers who
try to look like girls?

Mrs. Brooks won't be that kind of grandmother. She is gentle and serene,
and the years will touch her softly. I shall like her if she will let me.
But perhaps little school-teachers won't come within her line of vision.
You see I learned my lesson in those short months when I peeped into
Paradise.

I wonder how it would seem to be a Lily-of-the-Field. I've never been
one, have I? Even when I was a little girl I used to stand on a chair to
wipe the dishes while you washed them. I felt very important to be
helping mother, and you would talk about the dignity of labor--_you
darling_, with the hot water wrinkling