ngregation would laugh at her.

The President took the crumpled slip, and, after a hasty survey,
whispered slowly, "'Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. Thou art weighed in the
balances and art found wanting.'"

Poor, bewildered Peace crept back to her seat. "I don't see any sense to
it," she pondered, studying the cryptic message with puzzled eyes. "It
must be right, or Grandpa wouldn't have said so. Sounds like 'pickle,'
but it's spelled with a 't.' It must be 'tickle,' I guess."

A sharp nudge from her nearest neighbor's elbow brought her out of her
revery with a start. The superintendent was calling for the Golden Text
of Lesson III.

Peace leaped to her feet, her crutches forgotten, and her voice rang
clearly through the big room. "Minnie, Minnie, tickle the parson. Thou
are wanted for the balance that is found waiting."

There was a moment of intense hush, then a ripple of amusement swept
over the congregation, but before it could break into the threatened
roar of laughter, the superintendent with rare tact announced, "Let us
sing Hymn Number 63, 'Sweet Peace, the Gift of God's Love'."

As the notes of the organ swelled through the house, Peace sank into her
place, apparently overcome with confusion and mortification. Immediately
an arm stole gently about her shoulders, and a familiar voice whispered
comfortingly in her ear, "Never mind, little girl, there is no harm
done." Miss Gordon, flushed and breathless, had slipped into the pew
behind her class just in time to hear poor Peace's blunder; and knowing
how sensitive a child's heart is, she sought to make light of the
matter.

But Peace, scarcely heeding, vaguely asked, "Never mind what? O, their
laughing? I'm used to that. I don't care."

But she looked disturbed, distraught, and it was very evident to her
that she neither saw nor heard the rest of the service. Even when the
benediction had been pronounced and hosts of friends gathered about her
to express their delight at her presence with them once more, she seemed
abstracted and made her escape as soon as she could get away.

This was so unlike harum-scarum Peace that her sisters wondered,
although they attributed it to chagrin over her blunder, and
considerately refrained from asking questions. But when they had reached
home once more, and were gathered in the cool library waiting for
Gussie's summons to dinner, Peace abruptly burst forth, "I b'lieve I
could walk without those old crutches. I stood up wi