t a field he had that was filled
with daisies," said Ethel Blue. "It looked awfully pretty, but it
spoiled the field for a pasture; the cows wouldn't touch them."

"I remember that field. We used to make daisy chains and trim Mother's
room with them," said Ethel Brown.

"Mr. Emerson tried ploughing up the field and he had men working over
it for two seasons, but on the third, up they grew again as gay as you
please. They acted as if he had just been stirring up the soil so they
would grow better than ever."

"Poor Grandfather; he had a hard time with that field."

"He said he really needed it for a pasture, so he made up his mind that
if he couldn't root out the bad plants, he'd crowd them out. So he
bought some seed of a kind of grass that has large, strong roots, and
he sowed it in the field. As soon as it began to grow he could see
that there certainly were not so many daisies there. He kept on
another year and the cows began to look over the fence as if they'd
like to get in. The third year there were so few daisies that they
didn't count."

"I remember all that," said Ethel Brown, "but what does it have to do
with Mrs. Paterno?"

"Why, if we--or Edward--could make her get a grip on herself and
control herself that would be like Mr. Emerson's digging up the
daisies. It would be hard work and an awfully slow process. But if we
also could fill her mind with thoughts about working for her children
and trying to make other people happy and with making embroidery which
she loves to do, why wouldn't it help? These new things she's thinking
about would be like the strong, new grass seed that didn't give the
weeds a chance to grow."

Dorothy stared seriously at Ethel Blue.

"She does perfectly beautiful embroidery," she said slowly, as she
tried to think out a way to put Ethel Blue's suggestion into effect.
"Do you suppose she'd be willing to teach us how to do it? That
beautiful Italian cut work, you know. If we should call ourselves a
class and ask her to teach us it might give her something quite new to
think about."

"I'd like to learn, too," agreed Ethel Blue. "I heard Mother say once
that there was a school in New York for Italian lace work. Let's get
Delia to find out about it, and when Mrs. Paterno grows stronger and
goes back to the city she might go there. They have a shop uptown
where they sell the pupils' work. The class here and the prospect of
having regular employment when she went