Gussie's praises.

"Even to making poets," he teased.

"Yes, sir, even to making poets, and some day you will see for
yourself."

"I hope I may," he sighed again, and the little group slowly trundled up
the walk into the house.

Jud's prophecy of cold weather came true sooner than he had expected,
and as if to make up for the long, lovely autumn of the year before,
wintry winds descended early upon Martindale. Heavy frosts wrought havoc
in the gardens, the yellow and crimson leaves fell in showers, September
died in a blaze of glory, and October found the trees naked and vines
shivering in the keen, sharp air. It was too cold to spend the hours
out-of-doors any longer, and the Campbells dreaded the long days of
confinement that stretched out in such an appalling array before the
crippled child. So they were amazed and agreeably surprised to hear no
word of lament from the small maid herself, who was suddenly seized with
such a studious fit that she found hardly time to eat her meals.

"I'm learning to be a poet," she told them by way of explanation.
"Gussie's teaching me, and some day maybe you can read our
poems,--Allee's and mine."

"God bless Gussie," they smiled tenderly, and went their way content,
leaving the young student to toil with inky fingers over pages of
impossible rhymes, for they knew that when this new play should have
lost its attraction, they must have something else to hold the patient's
interest.

Perhaps it was Gussie's teaching, perhaps Allee's unflagging enthusiasm
which kept restless Peace pouring over the ancient Readers unearthed
from obscure corners of the President's great library; but however that
may be, more ink was used in the big house during those early Fall days
than had ever been used before, and the fat notebook was filled at an
alarming rate with contributions from its two owners, and an occasional
skit, by way of encouragement, from Gussie, the cook.

As neither Peace nor Allee ever offered to share their secrets with
their elders, the sisters soon lost interest in the new amusement; but
one night when both scribes were fast asleep in their beds, Hope chanced
to find the precious volume on the couch by the fireplace where Allee
had carelessly dropped it when the dinner hour had been announced.
Picking it up, she opened it idly, before she recognized what book she
had in her hand. Then, just as she was about to lay it aside, one of
Allee's contributions caught her eye, a