if she owned him. He didn't
forgive that thing about Balaam, and seems to feel he has a right to
him, same's Mr. Metcalf has."

"Poor old Balaam, he's made a lot of trouble, first and last; but I
guess he's all right now, only Cleena won't let Fayette talk of him. She
says it's 'punishment,'--the only sort she can inflict. I don't
understand why she wants him punished, anyway."

"Maybe for stealing him that Christmas night out of Mr. Wingate's
stable."

"Possibly; I don't know. She's like a mother puss with her kitten. One
minute she pets him to foolishness, the next she gives him a mental slap
that reduces him to the humblest, most timid mood. Well, I'm glad the
burro business is settled, though it's odd how Fayette covets that
animal; and the exercise of going up and down to his work, the days he
has to go, isn't hurting Hallam at all. I never knew him to be so well
and strong as he seems this spring."

"Amy, how was it about Balaam? Ma says she never heard the rights of it
yet. And say, she likes that book you lent her, about the woman went
round the world alone, visiting them hospitals, better 'n any novel she
ever read. She's going to give up the other story papers soon as the
subscription runs out an' take one o' them library tickets you were
telling about, or your uncle, where they send the books to you by mail
and you can have your choose of hundreds. Say, wouldn't it be prime if
we could get a big library here?"

"Grand! We will, some day, too."

"My! You say such things as if you expected them to be. How, I'd like to
know?"

"Well, if in no other way, by just us mill folks banding together and
making a beginning. Indeed, I think my father would give his own little
library as a start. There's a fine one at Fairacres, and I'm hoping when
Cousin Archibald comes back he'll get interested in our work and help
along."

"Might as well look for miracles."

"I do. I'm always finding them, too. There's one at your very feet.
Don't tread upon it, please."

Stooping, the girl pulled Gwendolyn's dress away from a tiny green
speck, growing in dangerous proximity to the wood road.

"What's it?"

"This baby fern."

"All that fuss about a fern!"

"It's life, it's struggle. See, so dainty, so fine, yet so plucky,
forcing its soft frond up through the earth, among all these bits of
rocks; never stopping, never fearing, just trusting the Creator and
doing its duty. It would be a pity to end it so soon."

"Am