f Elspeth was calling me. I've been out of sight from the parsonage
quite a spell and likely she's getting anxious. Besides, Glen may be
awake and wanting me."

"Very well," she laughed. "Hicks shall begin right away. See, there he
comes with his basket and scissors. Now sing."

So Peace repeated the sprightly chorus with a vim, and was rewarded with
such a huge bouquet of the fragrant blossoms that she was almost hidden
from sight as she stood clasping them tightly in her arms, and
exclaiming in rapture, "All for me? Oh, dear Lilac Lady, I didn't 'xpect
that many! You better have Aunt Pen put some of these in the house for
you."

"No, I don't want them in my house!" exclaimed the girl fiercely. "They
are all for you--and Saint Elspeth."

"Oh, she'll love you for sending them. Can I bring her over to see you?
Her and Saint John?"

"No, I don't care to meet them. Saint John has already called, but--I
sent him away again."

"Then--I s'pose--you won't care to have me call again either."

This beautiful garden seemed like the Promised Land to Peace's childish
eyes, and the thought of never being allowed to enter it again was
dreadful.

"Oh, yes, _do_ come again! You _must_ come again! Come every day. No,
not every day, some days I couldn't see you if you came. I will hang a
white cloth on the lilac bushes--see,--on the other side, where you can
see it from the parsonage, and you will come then, won't you?"

"Yes, if Elspeth doesn't need me and Glen is asleep. He likes flowers,
too, even if he is just a baby, and he never tears them to pieces."

"I'll have Hicks cut you some tulips--"

"You better not today. I'll get them next time I come. These are all I
can carry now, and they are a lot too many for our little parsonage. But
I'm awful glad you gave me such a big bunch, 'cause there are ever so
many of the church people sick, and Elspeth will be so pleased to have
me _distribit_ bouquets amongst 'em. Some of 'em it will be like
slinging coals of fire at their heads, too. There's old Deacon Hopper
for one. He doesn't like Saint John and calls him a meddlesome monkey of
a minister. Now he's sick, I'll take him a bunch of lilacs and tell him
the meddlesome monkey's minister has sent him some flowers and hopes he
soon gets onto his feet again.

"Mittie Cole is another that needs some fire on her head. She pushed me
into the gutter three times the day I tried to adopt the runaway twins,
and we'd have had a grand s