the strains of
celestial music flood the earth. It was inspiring, uplifting, sublime!

But that was not all. When the beautiful service had ended, and the
congregation was slowly filing out into the sunshine again, there stood
the wheel-chair by the door, and the lame girl, her blue eyes alight
with happiness, her face wreathed in smiles, greeted one by one the
friends of the old days from whom she had so long hidden herself away.

CHAPTER XIV

HOW THE FOURTH OF JULY MONEY WAS SPENT

"Just one week more and Fourth of July will be here," announced Peace
from her seat on the grass, as she counted off the days on her fingers.
They were all gathered under the trees that warm afternoon, Aunt Pen and
Elizabeth with their sewing, the minister with a magazine from which he
had been reading aloud, Giuseppe with his beloved violin, from which he
was seldom separated, the lame girl lying in her accustomed place, and
Peace and Glen gambolling in the grass at their feet.

"Why, so it will," said the invalid in surprise.

"Do you s'pose grandpa will get back by that time?"

"Should you care if he did not?" asked preacher teasingly.

"John!" reproved Elizabeth, tapping him gently on the head with her
thimble. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself to ask such a question?"

"No offense, ladies, no offense intended, I assure you! I merely
wondered if Peace could be getting homesick."

"Me homesick! Oh, no, I'm not _homesick_, but I'll bet the other folks
are by this time. I've been gone so long. One week of March, all of
April and May, and nearly all of June--that's three months already; and
I've never been away from the girls more'n a night or two at a time
before."

There was a wistful look in the brown eyes in spite of her emphatic
denial that she was homesick, and Elizabeth sought to turn the
conversation by saying meditatively, "I wonder what Glen will think of
the Fourth of July celebration? He was almost too young last year to
notice anything of that sort, and besides, we had a very quiet day at
Parker. Everyone had gone to the city for their fun."

"Yes, it was quiet in Parker last year. Hec Abbott was away all day, and
I didn't have any fire-crackers," Peace observed; then, noting the broad
smile that bathed all the faces, she added hastily, "I s'pose it was
just as well, 'cause it was an awful dry summer, and like enough we
would have set the place on fire. That's why Gail wouldn't let us have
any, but this yea