I used to think about dancing-school, and birthday parties, and rigging up, and summer fashions, and how many diamonds I'd have when I was married, and all that, the whole of the time, Peace--the _whole_ of it; then I got mad when my dresses didn't fit, and I used to strike Therese and Kate, if you'll believe it--when I was real angry that was.

Now, up here, somehow I'm ashamed when I miss at school; then sometimes I help Auntie a little, and sometimes I _do_ try not to be cross.

Now, you see, I'm going back, and father he thinks the world of me, and let's me do everything I want to, and I'm afraid"-- Joy stopped, puzzled to express herself--"I'm afraid I _shall_ do everything I want to." Peace smiled, and seemed to be thinking.
"Then, you see.

I shall grow up a cross, old selfish woman," said Joy dolefully; "Auntie says people grow selfish that have everything their own way.

You see, up here there's been Gypsy, and she wanted things just as much as I, so there's been two ways, and that's the thing of it." "I don't think you need to grow up selfish," said Peace, slowly; "no, I am sure you needn't." "Well, I wish you'd tell me how." "Ask Him not to let you," said Peace softly.
Joy colored.
"I know it; I've thought of that.