"Oh, grandpa, grandma, girls, when did you get here? I never so much as heard you drive up!"
Scarcely touching the gravel with her toes, she fairly flew through the gate into the five pair of arms reaching out to embrace her, hugging and kissing them impartially in her delight to be with them again, and asking questions as fast as her tongue could fly. "How did you like the Woods? Where are Gail and Faith? Haven't they come in from the Lake yet? I haven't seen them for three weeks now. Are you perfectly well, Allee? What's the matter with Cherry's nose, grandma? It looks skinned. Does scarlet fever make people grow tall, or what has happened to Hope? My, but you've missed it, being quadrupined up in the house all the spring! Yes, I'd like to have seen the Woods, too, but 's long as you didn't take me, I had a better time here. Oh, it's been jolly. There come Aunt Pen and Elspeth. I s'pose they think you've kissed me enough for one time and you better climb out and go speak to my Lilac Lady. She's been wanting to see you all, 'specially Gail and Faith which ain't here."
They answered her questions as best they could—they had enjoyed their brief sojourn in the Pine Woods very much, for they had found it more than tiresome to be quarantined all those beautiful weeks, but Peace's telephone messages and queer adventures had helped brighten many an hour. They were particularly interested in the Lilac Lady and the little Italian musician, and were anxious to meet the big-hearted Aunt Pen. So they clambered out of the carriage and were properly introduced by the preacher and his wife, while Peace fluttered from one to another of the happy group, too excited to remember such things as introductions.
The lame girl was very sorry to lose this little will-o'-wisp neighbor who had brought so much sunshine into her life during her short stay at the parsonage, but Elizabeth was to visit her every day, and the Campbells promised not only to lend Peace often to the stone house, but also to come with her; so they said good-bye at length, and the curly brown head bobbed out of sight down the long avenue, behind prancing Marmaduke and Charlemagne.
Peace was glad to get home again, and spent the next few days renewing her acquaintance with the place, philosophizing with Gussie, Marie and Jud, and regaling family and servants alike with accounts of her long stay at the parsonage, for it seemed to her that she had been away three years instead of three months.
On the third day she suddenly remembered the approaching Fourth and the generous bank account which she and Allee had kept for just that occasion. So she sat down on the stairs to plan out the list of fireworks that they should buy with their precious hoard, and was busy trying to add up a lengthy column of figures, when she heard Hope in the hall below say, "Yes, grandma, it's a letter from Gail. They aren't coming home for another week unless you want them particularly, because they have discovered a family of eight children out there by the lake who have never had a real Fourth of July celebration in their lives, and Frances is planning a picnic for them and wants the girls to help her out."
Peace heard no more. Frances was planning a gala day for a family of eight children who would have no fireworks for the glorious Fourth. Why could she and Allee not do the same thing for the Home children? There were more than fifty little folks in that institution who would have no celebration either, unless some good fairy provided it. She and Allee would have more than enough fire-crackers for the whole family, even if grandpa did not buy a single bunch himself, and of course he would do his part to make the day a grand success.
She went in search of Allee, unfolded her new plan, and as usual won her ready consent, for the smallest sister found this other child's quaint ideas delightfully thrilling, and was always willing to join her in any escapade, however daring.
"I knew you'd say yes," Peace sighed with satisfaction, when they had agreed upon the list of fire-crackers, caps and torpedoes. "Now the thing of it is, will grandpa be as easy? He has such very queer thoughts on some things. Still, he's usu'ly right, too. I've found out that it is lots better to try to help such folks as the Home children 'stead of tramps and hand-organ men, who are only fakes or lazy-bones. There was Petri, now,—he made loads of money off of Juiceharpie and Jocko, but he was mean as dirt to both of them. The Home children are different. Anything nice you do for them makes them happy and they like you all the better. Well, we better go see grandpa about it first, so's he can't kick after we get started real well with our plans. Besides, I don't s'pose Miss Chase would listen to us if grandpa doesn't know what we are up to."
Hand in hand they descended the stairs to the study and knocked, but the weary President was stretched on his couch fast asleep and did not hear their gentle tapping.