ke a garden so
bad!"

"Poor girlie," smiled the woman to herself, "what a hard time she would
have in life if she could not run and romp all she wanted." But aloud
she merely said, "It is too early to make a garden yet, dear. The ground
is so cold that the seeds would rot instead of sprouting, and if any
little shoots were brave enough to climb through the soil into open air,
they probably would get frozen for their trouble. We are apt to have
some hard frosts yet this spring. See, the leaves on the trees have
scarcely begun to swell yet. They know it isn't time. Be patient a
little longer; it can't rain forever."

"It's hard to be patient with nothing to do," sighed the child, pressing
her nose flatter and flatter against the glass as she looked up and
down the dreary, deserted street, vainly hoping for something to
distract her dismal thoughts.

"Have you finished dressing the paper dolls for Allee?"

"Yes, I made ten different suits for every single doll, and there were
fifteen, counting in the father and mother and grandma. Saint John has
already mailed them. I've read till I'm tired and the back fell off of
the book--it wasn't a nice story anyway, 'cause the good girl was always
getting whaled for what the bad one did. I whistled Glen to sleep before
I knew it and then couldn't wake him up, though I shook and shook him.
I've sewed up all today's squares of patch-work and two of tomorrow's;
but it isn't int'resting work when you ain't there to tell me stories
about them. And anyway, I _hate_ sewing--patch-work 'specially! When I
grow up and get married, my husband will have to buy our quilts already
made. I'll never waste my time sewing on little snips to hatch up some
bed-clothes. They're always covered up with spreads anyway. Rainy days
are the dismalest things I know!"

"That is very true if we let it rain inside, too," Elizabeth agreed
quietly.

"Let it rain inside! Whoever heard tell of such a thing--'nless the roof
was leaky." Peace giggled in spite of her gloom.

"You are letting it rain inside now when you frown and sigh instead of
trying to be cheerful and happy in spite of the storm outside. One of
our poets says:

"'Whatever the weather may be,' says he,
'Whatever the weather may be,
It's the songs ye sing, and the smiles ye wear
That's a-making the sunshine everywhere!'"

Peace abruptly ceased her drumming on the window-sill and stared
thoughtfully through the wet pane at a r