ishing the schools. All maimed persons may
belong, and the guild makes investigations, finds out if they can be
helped by surgery, and, if not, tries to make their lives happier in
every possible way. Of course, those of them who can use their hands are
happier doing so than they could be in any other way. Every Friday
afternoon, from three to six, they meet in the settlement rooms and have
music and games and reading, and hear talks on interesting subjects by
ladies and gentlemen who are glad to tell them of their particular lines
of work. Then they have a short service of prayer--"

"Do they sing the tug-of-war hymn?" asked Hannah eagerly. "I remember
about that better than anything else in the book."

"Yes, they almost always sing that. I heard them, myself," and Miss
Lyndesay's eyes grew sweeter at the thought. "I have never heard
anything more affecting than that singing:

"'Who best can drink His cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears His cross below,
He follows in His train.'"

Frieda and Hannah were still as she finished speaking, and all three sat
looking at the fire for a few moments in silence. Presently Hannah said
softly:

"And _they_ have _'Laetus sorte mea'_ for a motto? I can see
how you could take it, Aunt Clara, for of course you have everything
anybody could want. You are well and beautiful and good, and have money
and talent and friends."

Miss Lyndesay was silent and Hannah, who had been studying the flames
reflectively, looked up presently to see why she made no reply. There
was a grave expression on her face, and Hannah's grew startled.

Miss Lyndesay, seeing the look of alarm in the child's eyes, smiled and
took her hand.

"Would you give up your father and mother for any or all of those
things, Hannah dear?" she said.

_"O!"_ cried Hannah in a hurt frightened tone, and Frieda suddenly
choked back a sob.

Miss Lyndesay lifted her head quickly.

"Girls, do you realize the absurdity of us? Here we started out
discussing: 'Happy in my lot' and in a few minutes we have grown sad
with the burden of sorrow of half the world and our own individual
troubles besides! That is anything but wise, isn't it? I didn't intend
to preach to you when I invited you to Brookmeadow. But since we are on
the subject, let's say a little more and then drop it. I do want you to
remember that while the people who seem fortunate often have something
to bear that offsets