"It's the songs ye sing, and the smiles ye wear
That's a-makin' the sunshine everywhere!'"
"And ain't the fly's leaf dec'rations cute!" Peace pointed a stubby forefinger at the painted brownie chorus, armed with open song-books and broad grins, who seemed waiting only for the signal of the leader facing them with baton raised and arms extended, to burst into rollicking melody. "I think it's a splendid book and you're a nangel to give it to me when you meant it for someone else. But it ought to have a name. Just dairy sounds so milky and barnlike; and I don't like 'sunbeam book' real well, either. What did you call yours?"
Elizabeth laughed. "Esther's was 'Happy Moments,' but I was more ambitious, and called mine 'Golden Thoughts.' How would 'Sunbeams,' or 'Gleams of Sunshine' do for yours?"
"Oh, I like that last one! That's what I'll call it, and I'll begin writing now. Shall I use pen and ink?"
"Ink would be best, wouldn't it? Pencil marks soon get rubbed and dingy."
"That's what I was thinking," Peace answered promptly, for the possibilities of the ink-pot always had held a great charm for her, and at home her privileges in this direction were considerably curtailed, ever since she had dyed Tabby's white kittens black to match their mother. So she drew up her chair before the orderly desk, and began her first literary efforts, having first sorted out five blotters, six pen-holders, two erasers, a knife and a whole box of pen-points to assist her.
It was a little hard at first to know just what to write, but after a few nibbles at the end of her pen, she seemed to collect her thoughts, and commenced scratching away so busily on the clean, white page that Elizabeth smiled and congratulated herself on having so easily solved the problem of what to do with the restless, little chatter-box until she could go back to school the following Monday. There were only three days of that week remaining, and if the book would just hold the child's attention until these were ended, she should count her scheme successful, even though she did have to find another present for Jasper's birthday.
So she smiled with satisfaction, for Peace had become so engrossed with her new amusement that she never heard the door-bell ring, nor the voice of the visitor in the adjoining room, but scribbled away energetically until words failed her, and she paused to think of something to rhyme with "bird." Then her revery came to a sudden end, for through the open door of the parlor floated the words, "And so we decided to adopt her resolutions."
"Poor thing," murmured Peace under her breath. "I s'pose it's another orphan. Beats all how many there are in this world! I am glad she's going to be adopted, though; but if she was mine, I'd change her name to something besides Resolutions. That's a whole lot worse'n Peace. It sounds like war."
She glanced out of the window, and with a subdued shout dropped her pen and rushed for her coat and rubbers. The rain had ceased and the sun was shining! Not only that, but trudging down the muddy hill, hand-in-hand and tearful, were two small, fat cherubs, the first children Peace had seen while she had been visiting the parsonage, except as she met the boys and girls of the Sunday School. Elizabeth had told her that this part of the city was still new, and consequently few families had settled there as yet; but she had longed for other companionship than Glen could give her, and this was too good an opportunity to miss. So, flinging on her wraps, she hurried out of the back door, so as not to disturb Elizabeth and her caller, and ran after the children already at the street crossing, preparing to wade into the rushing torrent of muddy water coursing down the hillside.