words were indistinguishable, the three occupants of the Flag Room
caught snatches of the tune Peace loved so well, the Gleaners' Motto
Song. Recalling the days when the brown-eyed child had made the little
Hill Street parsonage ring with this very melody, the preacher
unconsciously began to chant,

"'When the days are gloomy,
Sing some happy song,
Meet the world's repining
With a courage strong;
Go with faith undaunted
Through the ills of life,
Scatter smiles and sunshine
O'er its toil and strife.'"

"Well, don't it beat all?" exclaimed Peace wearily.

"Doesn't what beat all?" mildly inquired the pastor, as she made no
effort to explain her words.

"How some folks will wear a tune to a frazzle," was the disconcerting
reply. "There's Faith, now, she hasn't played anything for days 'xcept
'_Carve-a-leery-rusty-canner_!' And when it ain't that it's '_Nose-arts
Snorter_,' or those wretched _archipelagoes_. I'm so sick of 'em all
that I could shout when she touches the piano. As for that song you
were just droning,--why, everyone in this house seems to think it's the
only thing going. There is nothing left of it now but tatters."

The preacher had abruptly ceased his humming, and as Allee crept quietly
from the room to hush the singer below, he suddenly remembered a
commission given him by his wife; and fumbling in his pocket, he drew
out a small book, daintily bound in white and gold. "Elspeth sent you
this booklet, dear," he ventured, somewhat timidly, for after two such
rebuffs as he had received in his endeavor to cheer the sufferer, he was
at a loss to know what to say or do next. "She could not come today
herself, but she thought this little story might please you."

"Thanks," replied Peace, dropping the volume on the pillow without a
spark of interest in face or voice. "I'd rather have seen her. She has
got some sense. Books haven't. I've been stuffed so full of stories, I
am ready to bu'st." Then, as if fearing that she had been rude to this
dearest of friends, she added hastily, "But I s'pose there is room for
one more. It must be good or Elspeth wouldn't have sent it. What is it
about?"

"It's the story of a little girl named Gwen, who fell from--"

Peace stopped him with a peremptory wave of her hand. "That will do for
the present," she said coldly, in such exact imitation of Miss Phelps
that no one who had ever met the teacher could possibly mista