"I presume the poor woman is delirious with a fever of some sort."
"Tryfoid," supplied Peace. "Stella told teacher so. That same day on my way home from school I saw a little girl lugging a heavy pail, and the handle kept cutting her hands, so she had to set it down every few steps and change to the other side. When I asked her to let me help, she gave me hold, and we carried the bucket down the alley to a chicken-coop, where it had to be dumped, 'cause it was slops for the hens. There was a big box there to stand on, and I lifted the pail to the top of the fence and emptied it, but the woman which owns the chickens was right under where the stuff fell, and she didn't like it a bit, and scolded us both good.
"Then there was Birdie Holden who wanted a bite of my apple, and when I turned it around to give her a good chance at it, she bit straight into a worm, and said I did it on purpose, though I never knew the worm was there any more'n she did.
"But the worst of all was the day teacher sent me to the office for thumb tacks to fasten up our drawings around the room. She told me to see how quick I could get back, but she never counted on the principal's not being there, which she wasn't. So I had to wait. Then all at once I saw a big sign on the wall which said if Miss Lisk wasn't in and folks were in a hurry, to ring the bell twice.
"I was in a big hurry for I had waited so long already that I thought sure Miss Allen would be after me in a minute to see if I was making the tacks; so I grabbed the cord and jerked the bell hard twice, and then twice again, and then twice the third time. I 'xpected she'd come a-running at that, but what do you think, grandma? Everyone in that schoolhouse just got up and hustled out of doors as fast as they could march. We never used to have fire drill in Parker and I hadn't heard of such a thing here, either, so I was dreadfully s'prised to find what my gong-ringing had done. Maybe Miss Lisk wasn't mad for a minute, when she saw me hanging out of the window yelling to know what was the matter, 'cause I was in a hurry for my thumb-tacks! But afterwards she laughed like anything and said the children made record time in getting out, 'cause no one, not even she herself, knew whether it was just a fire drill or whether the janitor had rung the gong on account of the school's really being burned up."
No one could blame the good dame for smiling at the vivid pictures Peace had painted of her missionary efforts, but Mrs. Campbell knew how sore the little heart must be over these seeming failures, so she pressed the nestling head closer to her shoulder and said comfortingly, "But think of all the smiles you have won from the washerwoman. When I paid her last night, she showed me the big bunch of flowers you had cut from your hyacinths and lilies in the conservatory, and told me how eagerly her poor, sick little girl watched for her home-coming the days she washed here, knowing that you would never forget to send her something. And Jud was telling your grandpa only this morning how the ash-man's horse always whinnies when the team stops in the alley, because you never fail to be there with a lump of sugar or a handful of oats. Mrs. Dodds says it is a real pleasure to make dresses for you, just to hear you praise her work. I was in the kitchen this morning when the grocer brought our order, and after he was gone, Gussie showed me a sack of candy he had slipped in for you, because you are so kind to his little girl at school. I don't need Jud's words to tell me how the horses and other animals on the place love you. And why? Because you love them and never hurt them."
"But, grandma," interrupted Peace, her eyes wide with amazement at this recital; "you don't call those things scattering sunshine, do you?"
"What would you call it, dear?"
"But—but—I didn't do those things on purpose, grandma. They—they just did themselves. I like to see Mrs. O'Flaherty's eyes shine and hear her say, 'May the saints in Hivin bliss ye, darlint,' when I give her anything for Maggie; and the ash-man's horse doesn't get enough to eat—really, it is 'most starved, I guess; and Mrs. Dodds does look so tickled when I say anything she makes is pretty. They are pretty, too. And the grocer's little girl is so scared if anyone speaks to her that a lot of the bigger girls got to teasing her dreadfully and I couldn't help lighting into them and telling them they ought to be ashamed of themselves; and—"
"That is what I call scattering sunshine, dear. It is these little acts of ours which count, these acts done unconsciously, without any thought of others seeing, done simply because our hearts are so full of love and sympathy that they bubble over without our knowing it, and others are made happy because of our unselfishness."