'll go and tell the Lilac Lady about the children, and
see if she hasn't got more roses than she knows what to do with, 'cause
I know they'd like 'em at the Home. Do you care?"

"No, Peace. Glen is asleep. But don't stay long, for it is nearly five
o'clock now, and tea will soon be ready."

"All right. I'll bring you some roses for the table if she has any to
spare today, and she ought to, 'cause the pink and white bushes have
just begun to open."

She whisked out of sight around the corner in a twinkling, and was soon
perched on the stool beside the lame girl's chair, regaling her with an
account of the afternoon's adventures.

The white signal fluttering from the lilac bushes had been discarded
long ago, and Peace was welcome whenever she came now, for with her
peculiar childish instinct, she seemed to know when the invalid found
her chatter wearisome. At such times she would sit in the grass beside
the chair, silently weaving clover chains, or wander quietly about the
premises, revelling in the beauty and perfume of the garden flowers, or
better still, whistling softly the sweet tunes which the pain-racked
body always found so soothing.

But this afternoon the young mistress of the stone house was lonely, for
Aunt Pen and Giuseppe were in town shopping, and she wished to be
amused; so Peace was doubly welcome, and felt very much flattered at the
attention her lengthy story received. To tell the truth of the matter,
the lame girl had just discovered how cunningly the small, round face
was dimpled, and in watching these little Cupid's love kisses come and
go with the child's different expressions and moods, she did not hear a
word that was said until Peace heaved a great, sympathetic sigh, and
closed her tale with the remark, "And so I'm going to see if I can't
take them some--enough to last a week maybe--for it must be _dreadful_
to eat bread and potatoes every day without any butter or gravy."

The older girl roused herself with a start, and promptly began asking
questions in such an adroit fashion that in a moment or two she had the
gist of the whole story, and was much interested in the picture Peace
drew of the Home children's life. "Why, do you know, I used to go there
with Aunt Pen--years ago--to carry flowers and trinkets, and sometimes
to sing. My! How glad they used to be! They would sit and listen with
eyes and mouths wide open as if they simply couldn't get enough. Aunt
Pen used to be quite interested