ur
foster-father, for he was with me when I found you. He is a gentleman,"
she said, with something of her old spirit, "though he has no social
position."

"Social position is not much, Aunt Peace, beside the things that really
count, do you think it is?"

"I hardly know, dearie, but I have changed my mind about a great many
things since I have lain here. I was never ill before--in all my
seventy-five years, I have never been ill more than a day at a time, and
it seems very hard."

"It is hard, Aunt Peace, but we hope you will soon be well."

"No, dearie," she answered, "I'm afraid not. But do not let us borrow
trouble, and let me tell you something to remember. When you have the
heartache, dearie,"--here the old eyes looked trustfully into the
younger ones,--"don't forget that you made me happy. You have filled my
days with sunshine, and, more than anything else, you have kept me
young. I know you thought me harsh at first, but now, I am sure you
understand. You have been my own dear daughter, Iris. If you had been my
own flesh and blood, you could not have been more to me than you have."

Margaret came in, and Iris went away, sobbing bitterly. Aunt Peace
sighed heavily. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes burned like stars.

"I'm afraid you've tired yourself," said Margaret, softly. "Was I gone
too long?"

"No, indeed! Iris has been with me, and I am better to-day."

"Try to sleep," said Margaret, soothingly.

Obediently, Aunt Peace closed her eyes, but presently she sat up. "I'm
so warm," she said, fretfully. "Where is Doctor Brinkerhoff?"

"He has not come yet, but I think he will be here soon."

"Margaret?"

"Yes, Aunt Peace."

"Will you write off the recipe for those little cakes for him? He may be
able to find someone to make them for him, though of course they will
not be the same."

"Yes, I will."

"It's in my book. They are called 'Doctor Brinkerhoff's cakes.' You will
not forget?"

"No, I won't forget. Can't you sleep now?"

"I'll try."

Presently, the deep regular breathing told that she was asleep. Iris
came back with her eyes swollen and Margaret took her out into the hall.
They sat there for a long time, hand in hand, waiting, but no sound came
from the other room.

"I cannot bear it," moaned Iris, her mouth quivering. "I cannot bear to
have Aunt Peace die."

"Life has many meanings," said Margaret, "but it is what we make it,
after all. The pendulum swings from daylight to d