crimmage if Saint John hadn't happened along
to stop it. But she's got lung fever now, and there was days the doctor
said she wouldn't live. I reckon she doesn't feel much like fighting any
more, but likely she'll enjoy the smell of these lovely lilacs. She
seemed awful glad to see me the day I carried her some chicken broth.

"The Foster baby is sick, and Grandma Deane, and little Freddie James,
and Mrs. Hoover, and Dan'l Fielding. You see that's quite a bunch, and
it will take a big lot of flowers to go around. I'll tell 'em all that
you sent 'em--"

"No, indeed!" There was real alarm in her voice. "Because I did not send
them. I gave them to you."

"But if you hadn't given them to me, I couldn't share 'em with other
folks, so it's really you who is to blame. You--you don't care if I give
some away, do you?"

"Certainly not, dear. You may give them all away if it will make you any
happier."

"Oh, it does! I just love to see sick faces smile when someone brings in
flowers to smell or nice things to eat. Miss Edith sometimes takes us to
the hospital with bouquets to _distribit_, and my! how glad the patients
are to get them. They say it is almost as good as a breath of real,
genuine air. I'm going with Saint Elspeth tomorrow afternoon--"

"Then you must come over here and get some more lilacs. Hicks will cut
all you can carry."

"Oh, do you mean it? You darling Lilac Lady--that's what I mean to call
you always, 'cause you give away so many lilacs to make other folks
happy. I'll bring the biggest basket I can find. There is Elspeth
calling again. I must hurry home."

"You haven't told me your name yet. I forgot to ask it before, but if I
am to be your Lilac Lady, I must know what to call you, too."

"Peace--Peace Greenfield. Good-bye. I'll be here tomorrow just the
minute dinner is over."

The blue eyes followed her longingly as she danced away through the
fresh clover and disappeared beyond the heavy gates. Then the lame girl
turned in her chair,--almost against her will, it seemed--and looked up
at the fragrant purple plumes nodding above her head. "Peace," she
murmured. "How odd! 'The peace which passeth understanding.'"

CHAPTER VIII

A PICNIC IN THE ENCHANTED GARDEN

After that Peace came often to the handsome stone house, half hidden
from the road by its thick hedges and giant trees. Almost daily the
white cloth fluttered its summons from the lilac bushes, and Elizabeth,
having heard the sa