ng Elizabeth's hand in her astonishment
and pleasure, "is it an angel singing?"

"Your Lilac Lady, dear. Didn't you know she could sing?"

"She told me she used to once, but I never heard her before."

"At college she was our lark. How we loved that voice! I think, little
girl, you have saved a soul."

But Peace did not hear the words. She was joining in the wild applause
that greeted this burst of melody from the long silent throat. Everyone
had been taken by surprise, the children were dancing with delight, the
matron's homely face was beaming, Aunt Pen's lips worked pathetically,
and Hicks, still busy filling small arms with the choicest flowers from
the garden, could only whisper over and over again, "Praise be, praise
be, she has found her voice!"

The Lilac Lady herself seemed almost unconscious of the fact that she
had torn down this last and strongest barrier between self and the
world, and if she noticed the pathetic surprise on the loving faces
hovering about her, she did not show it, but smiled serenely and
naturally when the applause had died away. She would sing no more that
afternoon, however, and the little visitors had to be contented with a
promise of another song the next time they came. So they said good-bye
to their charming hostess and filed happily down the walk to the street.

As the iron gates closed behind the little company homeward bound, Peace
turned to blow a good-night kiss between the high palings to the young
mistress, lying in her chair where they had left her, but paused
enraptured by the picture her eyes beheld. A rosy ray of the setting sun
filtered through the oak boughs overhanging her couch and fell full upon
the white face among the cushions, bringing out the rich auburn tints of
the heavy hair till it almost seemed as if a crown of gleaming gold
rested upon her head, and the wonderful blue eyes reflected the light
like sea-water, clear and deep and--unfathomable.

"Oh," whispered Peace, thrilling with delight, "I ought to have called
her my _Angel_ Lady!"

CHAPTER XIII

CHILDREN'S DAY AT HILL STREET CHURCH

"What do you think's happened now?" asked Peace, seating herself
gloomily upon the footstool beside the invalid, and thrusting a long
grass-blade between her teeth.

"I am sure I don't know," smiled the older girl. "You look as if it were
quite a calamity."

"It's worse'n a c'lamity. It's a _capostrophe_. Glen's gone and got the
croup--"

"Yes, so his