and over the river in purple durance the echoes bided there time.

Well, that was life. Gladness and pain... hope and fear... and change. Always change! You could not help it. You had to let the old go and take the new to your heart... learn to love it and then let it go in turn.

I suppose we'll get used to being grownup in time. There won't be so many unexpected things about it by and by—though, after all, I fancy it's the unexpected things that give spice to life.

Changes ain't totally pleasant but they're excellent things... Two years is about long enough for things to stay exactly the same. If they stayed put any longer they might grow mossy.

What is to be, will be, said Mrs. Rachel gloomily, and what isn't to be happens sometimes.

Oh, what would the world be without youth? And yet it passes so quickly. We are old before we know it. We never believe it ... and then some day we wake up and discover we are old.

Well, I am going to leave the war to Haig for the rest of the day and make a frosting for my chocolate cake. And when it is made I shall put it on the top shelf. The last one I made I left it on the lower shelf and little Kitchener sneaked in and clawed all the icing off and ate it. We had company for tea that night and when I went to get my cake what a sight did I behold!

It is never quite safe to think we have done with life.

What is to be will be, and what isn't to be happens sometimes.

The sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey sweet, was showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College, and the grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms, delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing into life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the windows of the co-eds' dressing-room.

Miss Patty and Miss Maria are hardly such stuff as dreams are made of, laughed Anne. Can you fancy them `globe-trotting' -- especially in those shawls and caps? I suppose they'll take them off when they really begin to trot, said Priscilla, but I know they'll take their knitting with them everywhere. They simply couldn't be parted from it. They will walk about Westminster Abbey and knit, I feel sure...

Even Billy Andrews' boy is going—and Jane's only son—and Diana's little Jack," said Mrs. Blythe. "Priscilla's son has gone from Japan and Stella's from Vancouver—and both the Rev. Jo's boys. Philippa writes that her boys 'went right away, not being afflicted with her indecision.