“Our hearts must tell us that, Eliza,” said Gray Lady, very gently. “We cannot carry rules about with us, but, if we have kind hearts always in our breasts, we shall not make mistakes. And even if our hearts do not feel for others in the beginning, they may be taught by example, just as our heads may learn from books. That is what I wish our Kind Hearts’ Club to stand for—to be a reminder that there is nothing better to work for in this world than that our hearts may be kind and true to ourselves, each other, and to God’s dumb animals that he has given for our service and has trusted to our mercy, for this is true worship and doing His will.” Each one of the children present signed silently and Gray Lady copied the names in a book, but let the children keep the cards, both as a reminder and to show their parents. Miss Wilde came forward at this moment and she and their hostess explained the manner of electing officers. Before they trooped out on to the lawn, even then reluctant to go, Goldilocks had been made president, Miss Wilde, vice-president, Sarah Barnes, treasurer, and Tommy Todd, who wrote a very clear, round hand, secretary, Dave, Jared Hill, and the two Shelton boys, a committee to collect old wood, and Eliza Clausen, Ruth Banks, and Mary Barnes, a committee to collect odd patterns for patchwork, something in which the older country folks showed great ingenuity and took no little pride. * * * * * “Oh my, do look at the Swallows—there’s hundreds of them on the wires,” said Tommy, as Goldilocks was wheeled out on to the front walk to tell the party “Good-by,” her mother following. “I wish I knew what really truly becomes of them,” said Sarah Barnes; “father says nobody knows, though some people say that they go down in pond mud and bury themselves all winter like frogs, and though you see them last right by water, I don’t believe it’s likely, do you, Gray Lady? Though at the end they disappear all of a sudden.” “It is not only unlikely, but impossible. I think next Friday we will begin our real lessons with these fleet-winged birds of passage that are passing now every day and night.” After the good-bys were said again and again, the children scattered down the road, talking all together, very much like a twittering flock of Swallows themselves, and like the birds they were neither still nor silent until darkness fell. Miss Wilde followed, smiling and happy, for she had found a friend who not only did not belittle her work in the hillside school, but showed her undreamed-of possibilities in it. VIII THE PROCESSION PASSES Time—September 20th. Place—The School at Foxes Corners. These are the stories that Gray Lady told or read from her scrap-book between September and Flag Day. She allowed them to be copied at Miss Wilde’s request for the pleasure of the other children in the township.