gh at?"

"My--my rhymes."

"Rhymes?"

"Yes. You know Hope has to write 'em in High School, and even Cherry's
teacher took a notion to make her scholars try thinking up poetry."

"Has your teacher?"

"O, no, but at recess we play school and one of our games is making up
rhymes. The leader says anything she wants to, and we have to answer so
it will make a jingle. It's like spelling down. If we miss we have to go
to the foot of the class."

"Mercy me! the whole house will be talking poetry next," ejaculated
Peace. "Gail's just written one that the--the--what is the name of that
paper?--has printed with her name at the bottom of it, and Cherry came
home tonight with her head so big that she can hardly lug it, 'cause her
verses were the best in her room. But I didn't think it would hit _you_.
Why, there's getting to be a reg'lar _emetic_ of poetry 'round here."

Allee looked crestfallen. "It's fun when you know how," she ventured,
apologetically. "Gussie showed me, and helps me get the feet straight."

"Feet! Gussie! Is she at it, too?"

"Gussie writes perfectly elegant rhymes," Allee defended. "You haven't
forgotten those dishes she cooked for you and rhymed over, have you?"

"I guess not! They were so funny. I pasted 'em into my 'Glimmers of
Gladness.'"

"And I stuck mine into my album," confessed Allee.

"Your album? What album?"

"A little book Gussie gave me to write my jingles in. The name on the
cover is 'Album,' so that's what I call it."

"Would--would you let me see it?"

Allee hesitated. "You won't laugh?"

"Not a single snicker."

"Well, then,--I don't mind."

She darted away to the house, returning almost immediately with a small,
thick note-book in her hand, partly filled with round, even writing,
which Peace instantly recognized as Gussie's. "That ain't--" she began,
but Allee forestalled her.

"Gussie copies 'em all for me, 'cause my letters are so dreadfully big
the pages won't hold all I want to write," she explained.

"Why don't you get a bigger book and write your own poems in it? The
pages are too small in this. I'll tell you,--Grandma gave me a big, fat
book a long time ago to keep a _dairy_ in."--Peace never could remember
the proper place for the words 'dairy' and 'diary.'--"But I wrote only
one day. It wasn't at all int'resting to scribble all by myself, but if
you'll use my book we'll both write. How'd you like that?"

Allee's eyes were shining happily. "I think it would