resents, and makes me ashamed of all mine, and she's glad of
it, too. If I'm going to give anything to Peace, I don't want her to."

"I think Joy has taken a great fancy to Peace. She would enjoy giving
her something very much," said Mrs. Breynton, gravely.

"I can't help it. Peace Maythorne belongs to me. It would spoil it all
to have Joy have anything to do with it."

"Worsted are very expensive now," said her mother; "you alone cannot
give Peace enough to amount to much."

"I don't care," said Gypsy, resolutely, "I want to do one thing Joy
doesn't."

Mrs. Breynton said nothing, and Gypsy went slowly from the room.

"I wish we could give Peace Maythorne something," said Joy, an hour
after, when they were all sitting together. Mrs. Breynton raised her
eyes from her work, but Gypsy was looking out of the window.

When the girls went up to bed, Gypsy was very silent. Joy tried to laugh
and plague and scold her into talking, but it was of no use. Just before
they went to sleep, she spoke up suddenly:

"Joy, do you want to give something to Peace Maythorne?"

"Splendid!" cried Joy, jumping up in bed to clap her hands, "what?"

Gypsy told her then all the plan, a little slowly; it was rather hard.

Perhaps Joy detected the hesitation in her tone. Joy was not given to
detecting things with remarkable quickness, but it was so plain that she
could not very well help it.

"I don't believe you want me to give any of it."

"Oh, yes," said Gypsy, trying to speak cordially, "yes, it will be
better."

It certainly was better she felt. She went to sleep, glad it was settled
so.

When the girls came to make their purchases, they found that Gypsy's
contribution of money would just about buy the crochet-needles and
patterns. The worsteds cost about treble what she could give. So it was
settled that they should be Joy's gift.

Gypsy was very pleasant about it, but Joy could not help seeing that she
was disappointed. So then there came a little generous impulse to Joy
too, and she came one day and said:

"Gypsy, don't let's divide the things off so, for Peace. It makes my
part the largest. Besides, the worsteds look the prettiest. Let's just
give them together and have it all one."

There is a rare pleasure in making a gift one's self, without being
hampered by this "all-together" notion, isn't there?--especially if the
gift be a handsome one, and is going where it is very much needed. So as
Joy sat fingering the pil