"Sacrifice, dear, not sacrilege."
"Is it? Well, I knew it was some kind of a sack. I want lots of stars in my crown when I get to heaven. Just think how terrible you'd feel s'posing when St. Peter let you inside the Gates, he handed you just a plain, blank crown. Mercy! I know I'd bawl my eyes out even if it does say there aren't any tears in heaven. So I picked out the things I liked the very best of all I got on Christmas—that is, most of them were. I don't care much for dolls, so that wasn't any sacri-fice for me; but Allee likes them awfully much yet, and it was a big sacri-fice for her to let hers go. But I sent my dear, beautiful plaid dress that I thought was the prettiest of the bunch, though I let Allee keep the one she liked best, seeing she cried so hard about Queen Helen. She didn't seem to enjoy thinking about the big star she'll get in its place, so I told her I thought likely you or grandma would give her even a prettier doll for her birthday, which isn't very far off now. I sent the book which tells all about the way little children in other lands spend Christmas day, but it was pretty hard work to give that one up. I pulled it out of the heap three times, and fin'ly had to run like wild up to Mrs. Scofield's house with it, so's I wouldn't take it out and put it on the shelf to stay."
"But why did you take so many things?" asked the Doctor lamely.
"There are five children in the family we sent our stuff to, and three of them are girls. There are six girls in our family, and when we lived all alone in the little brown house with just ragged, faded dresses to wear and only plain things to eat, holidays and all, we'd have been tickled to death if someone had given us such pretty things all for our very own. Oh, wouldn't it have made you happy if you had been a little girl?"
The great, brown eyes shone with such a glorified light and the small, round face looked so blissfully happy that the Doctor's lecture was wholly forgotten, and for a long time he held the little form close in his arms while his mind went backward over the long years to the time when he was a homeless orphan and Hi Allen—Hi Greenfield—had shared his treasures with him. They made a beautiful picture sitting there in the gathering dusk, the white head bending low over the riotous brown curls, the strong hands intertwined with the supple, childish fingers; and so completely had she captured the great heart of the man that when at length he set her on the floor and sent her away with a kiss, he spoke no chiding word. And Peace skipped off well content with the results of her first missionary efforts.
A few days later she danced into the house one afternoon from school, wet from head to foot with a damp, clinging snow which was falling, and at sight of her, Mrs. Campbell threw up her hands and exclaimed, "Peace, my child, what have you been doing?"
"Ted and Evelyn Smiley and Allee and me and some others had a snow-ball battle."
"That is expressly forbidden by the school board—" began the gentle little grandmother reprovingly.
"Oh, we didn't battle with the school board, grandma! We waited until we reached Evelyn's house and had it in their back yard. The snow is just right for dandy balls."
"I should think as much. Come here!"