t when hurt. Faint, wailing voices of new-born babes had reached
the listening ears of the portraits by night and by day. Coffin after
coffin had gone out of the wide door, flower-hidden, and step after step
had died away forever, leaving only an echo behind. And yet the men and
women of the line of Field looked out from their gilded frames,
high-spirited, courageous, and serene, with here and there the hint of a
smile.

Far up the stairs and beyond the turn hung the last portrait: Aunt
Peace, in the bloom of her mature beauty, painted soon after she had
taken possession of the house. The dark hair was parted over the low
brow and puffed slightly over the tiny ears. The flowered gown was cut
modestly away at the throat, showing a shoulder line that had been
famous in three counties when she was the belle of the countryside. For
the rest, she was much the same. Let the artist make the brown hair
snowy white, change the girlish bloom to the tint of a faded pink rose,
draw around the eyes and the mouth a few tiny time-tracks, which, after
all, were but the footprints of smiles, sadden the trustful eyes a bit,
and cover the frivolous gown with black brocade,--then the mistress of
the mansion, who moved so gaily through the house, would inevitably
startle you as you came upon her at the turn of the stairs, having
believed, all the time, that she was somewhere else.

At the moment, she was in the garden, with Mrs. Irving and "the
children," as she called Iris and Lynn. "Now, my talented
nephew-once-removed," she was saying, in her high, sweet voice, "will
you kindly take the spade and dig until you can dig no more? I am well
aware that it is like hitching Pegasus to the plough, but I have grown
tired of waiting for my intermittent gardener, and there is a new theory
to the effect that all service is beautiful."

"So it is," laughed Lynn, turning the earth awkwardly. "I know what
you're thinking of, mother, but it isn't going to hurt my hands."

"You shall have a flower-bed for your reward," Aunt Peace went on. "I
will take the front yard myself, and the beds here shall be equally
divided among you three. You may plant in them what you please and each
shall attend to his own."

"I speak for vegetables," said Lynn.

"How characteristic," murmured Iris, with a sidelong glance at him which
sent the blood to his face. "What shall you plant, Mrs. Irving?"

"Roses, heartsease, and verbenas," she replied, "and as many other
t