olded the beautiful plan at which the conductor had
hinted.

"But you mustn't set your heart on it, Glory. The grandmother may not
think that so young a girl will do for the boy."

"She will when she sees Diantha, auntie--I am just sure of it. Di is
so strong and helpful, and so cheery, and so full of courage, and
never thinks of herself, but always of others."

"Well, dear, we will leave it in the good Father's hands, and just
ask him to bring it out in the way that is best for all."

* * * * *

June and all its glory was touching the world, and the sweet air,
full of the perfume of rose and honeysuckle, crept in and fanned two
faces close together on the sofa pillows.

"Auntie, you haven't called me 'Little Disappointment' this ever so
long," Glory said suddenly after a long silence. "Is it a good sign?
I thought--well--maybe it was."

"Dear child!" Aunt Hope's arms were round Glory, holding her in their
feeble, loving clasp. "Dear child, did I ever call you that? Are you
sure? Well, I shall never do it again, dear, as long as we twain
shall live! Do you want a new name, Glory?"

"Yes'm, please," murmured the girl.

"Then you are my Little Ambition, and God bless you, dear!"

After that it was still again, and the cool darkness wrapped them in
softly. They could hear the solemn tick-tock of the clock across the
room. It was the same clock that used to say reproachful things to
Glory when she was a little child and had been naughty. Once she had
climbed on a chair and stopped its accusing tongue, because she could
not bear it any longer. It was talking to Glory now, and she could
not make it say anything but "Dear--child! dear--child!" over and
over, solemnly. It was Aunt Hope's voice it was trying to imitate.
Glory laughed out softly, under her breath.

"What is it, dear child?"

"Dear--child! dear--child!" echoed the clock solemnly.

"I've got to get up and stop that clock!" Glory said.

* * * * *

The week before the graduating exercises at the Centre Town
Seminary, Glory had another of her "ideas," and of course she carried
it to Aunt Hope.

"Why not?" she said, when she had introduced it to her. "It would be
like one of Tiny Tim's plays. He could go, too, and help us 'play'
it, don't you see? I think I should enjoy graduating better if
Diantha 'played graduate' with me. The teacher wouldn't care if she
sat with me down on the end seat. I don't believe she ever had a
white dress in