ngrily at the lilac-laden air, but never before had they smelled so
sweet nor looked so beautiful and feathery as they did this morning, for
now they had reached the height of their perfection. Tomorrow some of
their beauty would be gone; they would be growing old.

"Oh, Elspeth, ain't they lovely?" she sighed. "Don't they make you feel
like heaven? Wouldn't you like a great, big bunch of them under your
nose always? I wonder why the folks who live there don't give them away.
I should if they b'longed to me. Think how many people would be glad to
get them. May I go over in the field to play? I won't break one of Saint
John's plants or touch a single lilac, truly, if I can just play where I
can smell their smell as it comes fresh from the bush. We only get the
wee, ragged edges of it over here."

Elizabeth came out of her own revery at the sound of Peace's gusty sigh
of longing, and readily gave her consent, as this was Saturday morning
and school did not keep. So, like a bird trying its wings after a long
imprisonment, the brown-eyed maid with arms flapping and curls bobbing,
skipped happily across the road to the field where she had helped the
minister plant a little vegetable garden, and which already was lined
with irregular rows of pale green shoots where beans and potatoes,
turnips and cabbages, had pushed their way up through the black earth.

Peace was even prouder of the small truck patch than the preacher
himself, if such a thing were possible, and it was a favorite pastime of
both these gardeners to walk back and forth between the rows each day
and count the tender sprouts which had appeared during the night. So
this morning from force of habit, Peace strolled up and down the length
of the garden, counting in a sing-song fashion as she greedily filled
nostrils and lungs with the sweet scent of the lilac bushes just beyond,
drawing nearer and nearer the hedge with its delicate, dainty sprays.

Unconsciously her counting changed into the humming refrain of the
Gleaner's motto song, and she danced lightly down the last row of crisp
cornblades, joyously chanting words which fitted into the happy music:
"Oh, you pretty lilacs, growing by the wall! How I'd like to have you
for my very own. I would pick your blossoms, lavender and white, and
give them all to sick folks, shut in from the light.--Why, that rhymed
all of its own self!"

She paused abruptly beside the lilac bushes, her arms still uplifted and
fingers