you've been running in nearly every day since she took
sick."

Carol bent sharply inquiring eyes upon her father. "What else did she
tell you?"

"She said you were an angel."

"Y-yes,--she seems somehow to think I do it for kindness."

"And don't you?"

"Why, no, father, of course I don't. It's only two blocks out of my way
and it's such fun to pop in on sick folks and show them how
disgustingly strong and well I am."

"Where did you get the money for that basket of fruit?"

"I borrowed it from Aunt Grace." Carol's face was crimson with
mortification. "But it'll be a sweet time before Mrs. Harbert gets
anything else from me. She promised she wouldn't tell."

"Did any of the others know about the fruit?"

"Why--not--exactly."

"But she thinks it was from the whole family. She thanked me for it."

"I--I made her think that," Carol explained. "I want her to think we're
the nicest parsonage bunch they've ever had in Mount Mark. Besides, it
really was from the family. Aunt Grace loaned me the money and I'll have
to borrow it from you to pay her. And Lark did my dusting so I could go
on the errand, though she did not know what it was. And
I--er--accidentally took one of Connie's ribbons to tie it with. Isn't
that a family gift?"

"Mr. Scott tells me you are the prime mover in the Junior League now,"
he continued.

"Well, goodness knows our Junior League needs a mover of some sort."

"And Mrs. Davies says you are a whole Mercy and Help Department all by
yourself."

"What I can't understand," said Carol mournfully, "is why folks don't
keep their mouths shut. I know that sounds very inelegant, but it
expresses my idea perfectly. Can't I have a good time in my own way
without the whole church pedaling me from door to door?"

The twinkle in her father's eyes deepened. "What do you call it, Carol,
'sowing seeds of kindness'?"

"I should say not," came the emphatic retort. "I call it sowing seeds of
fun. It's a circus to go around and gloat over folks when they are sick
or sorry, or--"

"But they tell me you don't gloat. Mrs. Marling says you cried with
Jeanie half a day when her dog died."

"Oh, that's my way of gloating," said Carol, nothing daunted, but
plainly glad to get away without further interrogation.

It was a strange thing that of all the parsonage girls, Carol,
light-hearted, whimsical, mischievous Carol, was the one most dear to
the hearts of her father's people. Not the gentle Prudence, nor