quite sure, Mrs. Wallis," said Margaret, gently.
"Because if God was making you and had a plan for you, as the poem says,
He would be sure to put down something in His book about it, don't you
think? He would want you to know."

"It does sound reasonable-like now, don't it?" said the woman,
wistfully. "Say them glory words again, won't you?"

Margaret repeated the text slowly and distinctly.

"Glory!" repeated Mom Wallis, wonderingly. "Glory! Me!" and turned
incredulously toward the glass. She looked a long tune wistfully at
herself, as if she could not believe it, and pulled reproachfully at
the tight hair drawn away from her weather-beaten face. "I useta have
purty hair onct," she said, sadly.

"Why, you have pretty hair now!" said Margaret, eagerly. "It just wants
a chance to show its beauty, Here, let me fix it for dinner, will you?"

She whisked the bewildered old woman into a chair and began unwinding
the hard, tight knot of hair at the back of her head and shaking it out.
The hair was thin and gray now, but it showed signs of having been fine
and thick once.

"It's easy to keep your hair looking pretty," said the girl, as she
worked. "I'm going to give you a little box of my nice sweet-smelling
soap-powder that I use to shampoo my hair. You take it home and wash
your hair with it every two or three weeks and you'll see it will make a
difference in a little while. You just haven't taken time to take care
of it, that's all. Do you mind if I wave the front here a little? I'd
like to fix your hair the way my mother wears hers."

Now nothing could have been further apart than this little
weather-beaten old woman and Margaret's gentle, dove-like mother, with
her abundant soft gray hair, her cameo features, and her pretty, gray
dresses; but Margaret had a vision of what glory might bring to Mom
Wallis, and she wanted to help it along. She believed that heavenly
glory can be hastened a good deal on earth if one only tries, and so she
set to work. Glancing out the window, she saw with relief that Gardley
was talking interestedly with Mr. Tanner and seemed entirely content
with their absence.

Mom Wallis hadn't any idea what "waving" her hair meant, but she readily
consented to anything this wonderful girl proposed, and she sat
entranced, looking at her mountain and thrilling with every touch of
Margaret's satin fingers against her leathery old temples. And so,
Sunday though it was, Margaret lighted her little al