e exact spot, a mile from the gray
farmhouse, where, in a lovely little wood by a quiet road, a profusion
of bird-foot violets and bluets made a carpet of blue loveliness each
spring--so on, through the fleet days of summer, till the last asters
and goldenrod faded, the child reveled in the beauties and wonders of
the world at her feet and loved every part of it, from the tiny blue
speedwell in the grass to the gorgeous orioles in the trees. What if
Aunt Maria sometimes scolded her for bringing so many "weeds" into the
house! With apparent unconcern she placed her flowers in a glass or
earthen jar and secretly thought, "Well, I'm glad I like these pretty
things; they are not weeds to me."

The buoyancy of childhood tarried with her into girlhood. Like the old
inscription of the sun-dial, she seemed to "count none but sunny hours."
But those who knew her best saw that the shadows of life also left their
marks upon her. At times the gaiety was displaced by seriousness. Mother
Bab knew of the struggles in the girl's heart. Granny Hogendobler could
have told of the hours Phoebe spent with her consoling her for the
absence of Nason, mitigating the cruel stabs of the thoughtless people
who condemned him, comforting with the assurance that he would return to
his home some day. Old Aaron loved the girl and found her always ready
to listen to his hackneyed story of the battle of Gettysburg.

Phoebe was a student in the Greenwald High School when the war clouds
broke over Europe and the world seemed to go mad in a whirl. She hurried
to Old Aaron for his opinion on the terrible war.

"Isn't it awful," she said to him, "that so many nations are flying at
each other's throats? And in these days of our boasted civilization!"

"Awful," he agreed. "But, mark my words, this is just the beginning.
Before the thing's settled we'll be in it too."

She shrank from the words. "Oh, no, not America! That would be too
terrible. David might go then, and a lot of Greenwald boys--oh, that
would be awful!"

"Yes! But it would be far more dreadful to have them sit back safe while
others died for the freedom of the world. I'd rather have my boy a
soldier at a time like this than have him be ruler of a country."

The old man's words ended quaveringly. The pent-up agony of his
disappointment in his son surged over him, and he bowed his head in his
hands and wept.

Phoebe sent Granny to comfort him, and then stole away. The veteran's
grief left