noble men and women who have wrought and suffered and triumphed in the end? Would you find new courage, stronger faith, and serene hope? Then open the covers of a book, and presto—change!

[Pg 84]

“Iris,” called Aunt Peace, “you’re surely not going without your hat?”

“Of course not.” The colour that came and went in her damask cheeks was very like that in her pink dimity gown. She put on her white hat, the brim drooping beneath its burden of pink roses, and drew her gloves reluctantly over her dimpled hands.

“Iris, dear, your sunshade!”

“Yes, Aunt Peace.” She came back, a little unwillingly, but tan was a personal disgrace in East Lancaster.

Ready at last, she tripped down the path [Pg 85]and closed the gate carefully. Mrs. Irving waved a friendly hand at her from the upper window. “Bring me a letter!” she called.

[Pg 85]

“I’ll try to,” answered Iris, “but I can’t promise.”

She lifted her gown a little, to keep it clear of burr and brier, and one saw the smooth, black silk stocking, chastely embroidered at the ankle, as one suspected, by the hand of the wearer, and the dainty, high-heeled shoes. The sunshade waved back and forth coquettishly. It seemed to be an airy ornament, rather than an article of utility.

Half-way down the street, she met Doctor Brinkerhoff. “Good morning, little lady,” he said, with a smile.

“Good morning, sir,” replied Iris, with a quaint courtesy. “I trust you are well?”

“My health is uniformly good,” he returned, primly. “You must remember that I have my own drugs and potions always at hand.” He made careful inquiries as to the physical and mental well-being of each member of the family, sent kindly salutations to all, made a low bow to Iris, and went on.

“A very pleasant gentleman,” she said to [Pg 86]herself. “What a pity that he has no social position!”

[Pg 86]

She loitered at the bridge, hanging over the railing, and looked down into the sunny depths of the little stream. All through the sweet Summer, the brook sang cheerily, by night 

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