"Oh," whispered Peace, thrilling with delight, "I ought to have called her my Angel Lady!"
CHAPTER XIII
CHILDREN'S DAY AT HILL STREET CHURCH
"What do you think's happened now?" asked Peace, seating herself gloomily upon the footstool beside the invalid, and thrusting a long grass-blade between her teeth.
"I am sure I don't know," smiled the older girl. "You look as if it were quite a calamity."
"It's worse'n a c'lamity. It's a capostrophe. Glen's gone and got the croup—"
"Yes, so his papa told Aunt Pen this morning. How is the poor little fellow now?"
"He's better, doctor says; but his cold is dreadfully bad and may last for days, so Elspeth can't hear the children practise for next Sunday—I mean a week from tomorrow. That is Children's Day, you know. And Miss Kinney has ab-so-lute-ly refused to sing for us, 'cause Elspeth asked Mildred George to take a solo part, too, and Miss Kinney doesn't like Mildred. Why are huming beings so mean and horrid to each other? Now, I wouldn't care if I found someone which could sing better'n I,—s'posing I could sing at all. I'd just help her make all the music she could and be glad there was somebody who could beat me."
"Would you really?" asked the lame girl with a queer little note of doubt in her voice.