. His fancy pleased her.

"The gifts, yes--even the gifts of tears, but never a day. You cannot
hold a happy day, for it goes too quickly. This one sad day that
marched so slowly by you is the one you chose to hold. Lady," he
pleaded, "let her go!"

"The other days," she whispered, brokenly. "What of them?"

"No man can say. While you have been holding this one, the others have
passed you, taking your gifts into Yesterday. Memory guards Yesterday,
but there is a veil on the face of To-morrow. Sometimes I think
To-morrow is so beautiful that she hides her face."

"God veils her face," cried Evelina, "or else we could not live!"

"Lady," said the Piper, "have you lived so long and never learned this
simple thing? Whatever a day may bring you, whatever terrible gifts of
woe, if you search her closely, you will always find the strength to
meet her face to face. Overshadowed by her burden of bitterness, one
fails to find the balm. Concealed within her garments or held loosely
in her hand, she always has her bit of consolation; rosemary in the
midst of her rue, belief with the doubt, life with the death."

"I found no balm," murmured Evelina, "in the day you say I held."

"Had there been no secret balm, you could never have held her--the
thorns would have pierced your hands. Have you not seen that you can
never have sorrow until you have first had joy? Happiness is the light
and sadness the shade. God sets you right, and you stray from the
path, into the shadow of the cypress."

"The cypress casts a long shadow," said Evelina, pointing to the tree
at the gate.

The Piper smiled. "The shadow of a sorrow is longer than the sorrow,"
he answered. "The shadow of one day, with you, has stretched over
twenty-five years. 'T is approaching night that makes long shadows;
when life is at noon, they are short. When life is at its highest,
there are no shadows at all."

Miss Evelina sighed and leaned uneasily against the wall.

"This, I'm thinking," mused the Piper, "is the inmost truth of
living--there is always a balance which swings true. A sorrow is
precisely equal to a joy, and the shadow can loom no larger unless the
light slants. And if you sit always in the sun, the shadow that lies
behind a joy can be scarcely seen at all."

A faint breath of Spring stirred Miss Evelina's veil. She caught at it
and tied the long floating ends about her neck.

"I would not look," said the Piper, softly. "If you