other
apologetically, brushing a tear from her cheek as she finished reading
some incomplete lines penned by the brown-eyed maid:--

"Shut up here with no trees nor plants,
I can't tear my close on a barb wire fence.
With my feet on a pillow where I can't use 'em
There's nothing on earth can ever bruise 'em.
But oh, how I hate to lie here all day,
When I want to be out in the garden at play.
I want to get up and run and shout,
I want to see what's happening about.
There'll be no more climbing up roofs so high,
I must live in a wheel-chair until I die."

Hope's eyes, too, had seen the pathetic lines, and closing the book, she
softly said, "Let's all write something in it as a surprise,--something
of our own, I mean."

"And you make little margin pictures like Mrs. Strong did in Peace's
Brownie Book," suggested Cherry.

"You mean her 'Glimmers of Gladness,'" Faith corrected, smiling a little
in remembrance of the brown and gold volume which had helped while away
the rainy days at the parsonage more than a year before.

"And paint the name in fancy letters on the front cover," Gail added.

"What shall you call it?" asked the grandmother, already searching for
pen and paper that she might make a first draft of some lines running
through her mind.

"The same title they have given it," Gail answered. "'Allee's Album.'"

"And God bless 'Allee's Album,'" reverently whispered the deeply-touched
President, blowing his nose like a trumpet to relieve his feelings.

CHAPTER IX

PEACE INTERVIEWS THE BISHOP

"Well," sighed the President, laying down the evening paper and leaning
wearily back among the cushions of his great Morris chair, "it really
looks as if South Avenue Church is to have Dr. Henry Shumway for its
pastor this year."

Mrs. Campbell glanced up hastily from her sewing with consternation in
her eyes and asked, "Has the bishop really confirmed the report?"

"No, but he won't deny it, either. According to an article in this
paper, our beloved Dr. Glaves is to be transferred to the Iowa
Conference, and Dr. Shumway takes his place."

"I sh'd think you'd be glad enough to see Dr. Glaves go," remarked an
abstracted voice from the corner of the room where Peace and Allee were
absorbed in the task of sorting and stringing bright-colored beads. "He
reminds me of tombstones and _seminaries_,--not only his name, but the
_pomperous_ way he has of crawl