children could not bear such fatigue; so they take up their abode in
the trees, and remain there guiding the seasons and seeing that all is
well; whispering to me as I pass and to one another, and singing softly
to the stars and the clouds, and then every one mistakes and thinks
them simply rustling leaves. Then, when I have finished my journeying,
I give them a sign, and they dress themselves in gala-costume,--for joy
at the thought of coming home,--and when every one is gay in red,
purple, and yellow, they all slip down from the trees and away we go.
People have great theories about the changing of the foliage, but it is
a simple matter; as I tell you, it is only that my children are getting
ready to go home.

"During the winter we leave the world to sleep, for it grows very weary
and needs rest. My children arrange its snow-coverlets for it, and
then it slumbers, and the moon and stars keep watch. So now thou
knowest all, little maid, and thou canst be one of us, and make the
world bright and glorious if thou wilt. It only needs a beautiful
soul, dear Doris; then one remains ever young, and can work many
wonders."

"Oh, I will, I will!" cried Doris, instantly.

"But," said the Piper, "it takes such long experience. Thou seest my
children had long years of it; and until thou canst make life bright
within, thou couldst not venture without. But if thou wilt try, and be
content to work in patience,--there are many children who are doing
this--"

"Oh, I will, I will!" said Doris, again.

Then the children laughed more happily than ever, and the Piper raised
his fife to his lips and blew a loud, glad note.

What was this? The children had disappeared, the Piper was gone, and
Doris sat by the window, and her book had dropped to the floor. She
rubbed her eyes.

"It was a dream," she said. "It is the Piper's wonderful way; he has
left me here to work and wait, so that I may make the world beautiful
at last." And she smiled and clapped her hands as the wind swept round
the corner.

MARJORIE'S MIRACLE.

"Shall we have to wait until all these folks have been taken?" asked
Marjorie, looking from the crowd of people who thronged the fashionable
photograph-gallery to her mother, who was threading her way slowly
through the press to the cashier's desk.

"Yes, dear, I 'm afraid so. But we must be patient and not fret, else
we shall not get a pleasant picture; and that would never do."

While she paid t