Heart of Gold | Page 5

enough for once. I'm glad Spring is here at last." Her voice sent a
responding joyous thrill through the woman's cold heart in spite of
herself. "The ice in the river is 'most all gone, the pussy willows by the
boathouse are peeking out their queer little jackets, and the robins are
beginning to build their nests in the trees. Grandpa says when the birds
commence to build, Spring is here to stay; and I'm so glad. I've just
been aching to go hunting vi'lets and cowslips and 'nemones. We are
going to plant a heap of wild flowers on her grave--"
"Whose grave?" the amazed teacher heard herself asking.
"My Lilac Lady's. It's so bare now. The grass was all dead when she
fell asleep last Fall, and only the ugly ground shows now--just the size
of the bed they laid her in. We're going to cover it with the flowers she
liked best, first the wild ones from the woods, and then the garden
blossoms--pansies and forget-me-nots and English daisies. I know
where the prettiest vi'lets grow,--just scads and oodles of 'em--down by
the stone bridge over Bartlett's Creek in Parker; and Hicks is going to
help us transplant them. Only it's too early yet. They aren't even up
through the ground now. But it won't take long, with days like this. It's
hard to study with Spring smelling so d'licious right under your nose.
Doesn't it make you want to get out and jump rope and play marbles
and leap-frog, and--and just jump and skip and yell? I can pretty near
fly with gladness!"
Peace turned a radiant face toward the silent woman, and was dismayed
to find tears glistening in the cold gray eyes. "Oh!" she exclaimed in
deep contrition, "what is the matter? Did I--what have I said now to
make you squall?"
"Nothing, dear," smiled the teacher, wiping away the telltale drops with
a hasty whisk of her handkerchief. "I--I just saw in my mind a picture
of the little old cottage where I used to live, and it made me homesick, I
think. My head aches, too,--"
"Then you mustn't let me keep you here," cried the child, forgetting that
she had been bidden to remain after school as a punishment for

inattention. "You better go right home, drink a cup of good, hot tea, and
go to bed. That'll make you feel all right by morning, I know, 'cause
that's the way we fix Grandpa up when his head bothers. Here's your
hat and coat. Just breathe in lots of air, too. It's pretty muddy under foot
to walk very far, but the fresh air will do you good."
Before the woman could realize how it happened, Peace had coaxed her
into her wraps, slipped on her own, and hand in hand with the
astounded teacher was walking demurely down the muddy street, still
chattering gayly. At the corner, faithful Allee awaited the coming of her
unfortunate sister, and Peace, seeing the yellow curls bobbing under the
blue stocking cap, gave the teacher's hand a parting squeeze, waved a
smiling good-bye, and skipped off beside the younger child as if there
were no such a thing as being kept in after school.
"O, Allee," Miss Phelps heard her say as they pelted down the avenue,
"do you s'pose Grandma'll let us go over to Evelyn's to play? It's dry
enough, I'm sure."
"Cherry's gone on ahead to find out," Allee panted. "They are going to
play anti-over,--Ted and Johnny and all the rest."
"Goody! I just know Grandma won't put her foot down. It's such a
lovely day! Hear that robin say, 'Spring is here, Spring is here!' S'posin'
we were robins, Allee, and had to hunt up horse-hair and hay to build
our nests of--"
"Peace! Allee! Hurry up. We are already to play," screamed Evelyn
Smiley, leaning over her gate and beckoning wildly to the racing girls.
"Your grandmother says you can stay till five o'clock. Ted's 'it' this
time. Johnny has a dandy ball, and we are going to play over the
house."
"Oh!" cried Peace incredulously, "that's so high!"
"All the more fun," answered Ted, joining them at the gate.
"But we might break some windows."

"Fiddlesticks! Our ball is big and soft Couldn't break anything with it.
'Tain't like Fred's hard rubber one. Come on. This is my side of the
house. You take the other."
The rest of the dozen children gathered on the front lawn scuttled away
to the place designated, and the game was on. Such laughing and
shouting, such running and dodging! Once Edith Smiley, Evelyn's aunt,
beloved of all the children, came to the window and watched the
boisterous, exhilarating frolic with an anxious pucker between her
brows. "I am afraid someone will get