ine
for her any more, the birds don't sing, the flowers have lost their
fragrance. What she needs is a good dose of common sense, but we don't
seem to be able to administer it. If only we could put a cannon cracker
under her chair, maybe it would rouse her. Oh, I was just speaking
figuratively; I didn't mean the real article," he hastened to assure his
small audience, as a gasp of horror escaped her.

The doctor had waxed eloquent in his diagnosis of the case, and though
Peace failed to understand half that he said, the grave, almost harsh
look about his mouth and eyes struck terror to her heart, and she
faintly faltered, "Is--do you think Faith will be an angel soon?"

He looked at her in amazement. "No!" he thundered, and she shivered at
his tone. "It will take ages to make an angel of Faith if she keeps on
in the way she is going. Gail is the angel if ever there was one, and
Hope's wings have sprouted, too--"

"Oh," moaned Peace, with wide, terrified eyes, "I don't want Gail and
Hope to be angels! We need them here! We could spare Faith easier than
them. Oh, Dr. Bainbridge, ain't two angels enough for one family?"

The kindly old doctor suddenly understood, and patting the little hood,
covered with bits of eggshell and particles of ice, he said
remorsefully, "There, there, honey, I didn't mean that kind of angels! I
mean just dear, good, blessed girls, such as make the world better for
having been in it. There is no danger of their flying away to the other
land just yet, my child; though goodness only knows what will become of
Gail if Faith isn't waked up soon. I must go call on my sick folks now,
little girl. I'd drive you home if I were going that way, but I am due
this very minute at the opposite end of town. Don't you fret, but be an
awfully good girl yourself and help Gail all you can. When Faith comes
to her senses and goes to work at something, she will be all right."

They parted, and Peace slowly wended her way home again, somewhat
relieved, and yet considerably alarmed over the doctor's words. Down to
the barn she wandered, and up the rickety ladder she climbed into the
cobwebby loft. A figure moved impatiently at the far end of the loose
boards, and as Peace's eyes became accustomed to the dim light, she saw
it was Faith, curled up among a lot of ragged papers and coverless
magazines, musty and yellow with age.

"What are you ba--crying about!" asked Peace in awed tones, as the other
girl sniffed sus