ake the lily with her to the end of the way. Should she throw the rest
away? Would she be welcome with only the one flower? Long she hesitated.

Then she laid the yellow, and the blue, and the red, and the rest aside
and carefully gathered it. So in her hand she carried the lily with the
petals of pure white and the heart of gold.

And lo, she had come to the stile which endeth the way of girlhood.
There, standing guard over the way ahead, was a woman in white, holding by
the hand a tiny, little child. Looking straight into the eyes of the girl,
she said sweetly,

"Welcome, my child, from the beautiful way of girlhood. What hast thou
brought as thy gift to coming generations?"

Then the girl feared to answer. But she held the lily toward the little
child as she said, "I have brought purity and a heart of gold."

"Thou hast done well," said the mother spirit. "Take thou the child as thy
reward. With this as thy gift, thou art worthy to enter the way of
motherhood. Lo, here are some of the flowers that were left by the way.
Well may they go with thee, for they are very beautiful. But the gift that
thou didst choose was far more valuable and beautiful than they. It was
the gift that the Great desire."

Then the girl and the child went together into the new way. But the child
was carrying the gift and she smiled as she went.

THE HOUSE OF TRUTH

It was plain to be seen that Bess Keats was very much disturbed about
something. She sat in the couch hammock on the porch, talking to herself
and occasionally giving a sharp punch to the sofa pillow by her side.

"Mother is so old-fashioned," she said to herself, "and she gets worse
every year. Last year she wouldn't let me wear the kind of dresses I
wanted to and I looked different from the rest of the girls all the year.
Then she wouldn't let me go camping with the party because only one mother
was going to take care of us. Surely one woman can take care of twenty
boys and girls. Of course I was glad I hadn't gone when they had the
accident and partly burned the cottage, but she wouldn't let me go just
because she had old-fashioned notions. Girls these days don't do as they
did when she was young.

"I just can't see a reason in the world why I shouldn't invite Henry Mann
to take me to the leap-year party at the beach. Every girl in the crowd is
asking a fellow to take her. Of course if George were here, mother might
let me go with him; but he isn't and all the g