nt; for she had always lived
alone a great deal, and these little blank books of hers held the
thoughts that she could not speak to other folks because there were no
folks to talk with. Esther was several years older than I, and she knew
a lady who wrote for magazines. So, unbeknown to Aunt Nancy, she copied
a number of the prettiest verses and sent them to this author, who not
only had them printed, but begged for more. I never shall forget how
pleased Aunt Nancy was, and I think it was that which decided us girls
to try keeping a diary, too. We raced each other good-naturedly, to see
who could write the queerest fancies or longest rhymes, and many an hour
have we whiled away, scribbling in the dusty attic."

"Did you ever get anything printed?" Peace was becoming interested, for
Gail had secret ambitions along this line, and such matters as poems,
stories and publishers were often discussed in the home circle.

"No," sighed Elizabeth, a trifle wistfully, perhaps, as she thought of
that dear dream of her girlhood days. "I soon came to the conclusion
that poets are born and not made. But Esther has been quite successful
in writing short stories for magazines, and she lays it all to the
summer we spent with Aunt Nancy on that dreary farm."

"How long did you write your dairy?"

"_Diary_, Peace. I am still writing it--"

"Ain't that book full yet?"

"Oh, yes, a dozen or more, but most of them were burned up in the fire
at--"

"I thought maybe this was one of them." She held up the brown and gold
volume, much disappointed to think it did not contain the record of
those early attempts which Elizabeth had so charmingly described.

"No, dear, that is a notebook which I was intending to send John's
youngest brother, Jasper, who thinks he wants to be an author, so he
might jot down bits of information or interesting anecdotes to help him
in his work. However, it just occurred to me that perhaps Peace
Greenfield would like such a book to gather up sunbeams in."

"To gather up sunbeams?"

"Yes, dear. Don't you think it would be a nice plan these rainy, dreary
days to write down all the cheerful bits of poetry you know or happy
thoughts that come to you, or the pretty little fairy tales you and
Allee love to make up about the moon lady and the brownies in the dell?
You see, I have painted little brownies all along the margins of the
various pages--"

"And they are carrying sunflowers," Peace interrupted.

"Sun-flowe