ting. I've watched all the afternoon for the
Lilac Lady's table-cloth and haven't had a peek of it yet. But there--I
don't s'pose she'd know there was only one session today, so she ain't
apt to hang it out until time for school to let out, like she usu'ly
does. Guess I'll just walk over in that d'rection and see if she ain't
under the trees yet. It's been two days since I've seen a glimpse of
her. Hicks says she's been dreadful bad again. P'raps I better take her
some flowers this time--and there is that little strawberry pie Elspeth
made for my very own. I might take her some sandwiches, too,--yes, I'll
do it!"

She tiptoed softly into the house, so as not to disturb the two
slumberers, and went in search of the minister in order to lay her plan
before him; but he, too, had fallen asleep and lay sprawled full length
by the open window, beside his half-written manuscript.

"If that ain't just the way!" spluttered Peace under her breath. "I
never did go to tell anyone nice plans but they went to sleep or were
too busy to be disturbed. Well, I'll do it anyway. I know they won't
care a single speck. I'll ask 'em when I get home and they are awake."

Back to the kitchen she stole, and into the tiny pantry, where for the
next few minutes she industriously cut and buttered bread, made
sandwiches, sliced cake and packed lunch enough for a dozen in the
picnic hamper which she found hanging on a nail in the shed. With this
on her arm, she returned to the little garden under the window and dug
up her choicest flowers, stacked them in an old shoe-box with plenty of
black dirt, as she had often seen Hicks do, and departed with her
luggage for the stone house across the corner.

She paused at the heavy gates, wondering for the first time whether or
not she would be welcome at this time, when no signal had fluttered from
the lilac bushes, but at sight of the motionless figure under the
largest oak, her doubts vanished, and, boldly opening the gate, she
marched up the gravel path and across the lawn toward the familiar
chair, bearing the lunch-basket on one arm and a huge box of
cheerful-faced pansies on the other.

Hearing the click of the latch and the sound of steps on the walk, the
lame girl frowned impatiently, and without opening her eyes, said
peevishly, "If you have any errand here, go on to the house. I won't be
bothered."

"Oh, I'm sorry," cried Peace in mournful tones. "I brought a picnic with
me, but--"

The big