"Mittie Cole is another that needs some fire on her head. She pushed me into the gutter three times the day I tried to adopt the runaway twins, and we'd have had a grand scrimmage if Saint John hadn't happened along to stop it. But she's got lung fever now, and there was days the doctor said she wouldn't live. I reckon she doesn't feel much like fighting any more, but likely she'll enjoy the smell of these lovely lilacs. She seemed awful glad to see me the day I carried her some chicken broth.
"The Foster baby is sick, and Grandma Deane, and little Freddie James, and Mrs. Hoover, and Dan'l Fielding. You see that's quite a bunch, and it will take a big lot of flowers to go around. I'll tell 'em all that you sent 'em—"
"No, indeed!" There was real alarm in her voice. "Because I did not send them. I gave them to you."
"But if you hadn't given them to me, I couldn't share 'em with other folks, so it's really you who is to blame. You—you don't care if I give some away, do you?"
"Certainly not, dear. You may give them all away if it will make you any happier."
"Oh, it does! I just love to see sick faces smile when someone brings in flowers to smell or nice things to eat. Miss Edith sometimes takes us to the hospital with bouquets to distribit, and my! how glad the patients are to get them. They say it is almost as good as a breath of real, genuine air. I'm going with Saint Elspeth tomorrow afternoon—"
"Then you must come over here and get some more lilacs. Hicks will cut all you can carry."
"Oh, do you mean it? You darling Lilac Lady—that's what I mean to call you always, 'cause you give away so many lilacs to make other folks happy. I'll bring the biggest basket I can find. There is Elspeth calling again. I must hurry home."
"You haven't told me your name yet. I forgot to ask it before, but if I am to be your Lilac Lady, I must know what to call you, too."
"Peace—Peace Greenfield. Good-bye. I'll be here tomorrow just the minute dinner is over."