own.—But I'm afraid that I can't make it clear to you and it will be pretty hard to understand," he added.

"Joe," said Periwinkle gravely, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on his young friend's face, "did you ever hear anything you didn't just exactly want to understand, something that's too nice to get right down on a footing with yourself? Once I was reading one of Mr. Barleydon's books of poetry that made you feel like a breeze was carrying you right up to the gates of heaven. Mr. Barleydon looked at me in surprise, then looked at the book and asked kind of funny, 'Do you understand it, boy?' 'No sir!' I told him, 'but somehow I feel it better for not being able to understand it quite.' And that's how I feel about some of the things you told us. Do you suppose that's all right?"

"I think, Peri," said Joe soberly, "that is the real understanding."

"Say, you know what a fellow's driving at," cried Periwinkle with delight. "Jerry, the clown was sympathetic like that. I think that Jerry, next to you and your dad, is the most Christian person, I know. Aunt Hetty ain't one though," he finished rather bluntly.

"Why Peri," protested the minister's son, "your Aunt Hetty is one of the best workers in the church. She belongs—" Joe smiled as he hesitated, "to our Ladies Aid, the Adult Bible Class, the Ladies Missionary Society, and if I am not mistaken also to a Temperance Union, an Anti-cigarette Club and a host of others."

"But she doesn't love her enemies," was Periwinkle's reply.

Joe smiled to see how deep an impression this injunction made on both children.

"And all the Greys are her enemies," continued Periwinkle, "especially Mr. Robert Grey. Now I think he is a fine man."

"He is," was the warm rejoinder.

"I guess they were in love once. And then—just because of a pig—I think it's dreadful, Joe."

The boy had touched on a subject that was a matter of concern with his teacher and one to which he had given much thought.

"Peri," he cried, "if I had the chance my father has every Sunday, I would tell them that they are showing themselves to be mighty poor Christians. But then dad knows best, of course. He's had years of experience to help him. Only I don't see how he stands it. For three years he has been trying to bring the Maises and the Greys together and he is not discouraged, though I can't see any results, Peri—" Joe stopped suddenly.

"What, Joe?"

"You'll be starting to school soon. There will be Greys and Maises there. I know that if I speak to them about it—and I will—the Greys won't pitch into you unless you start something."

"I won't do it. I'd just as lief fight a Maise as a Grey any day. I ain't—b i g o t e d."

A sudden smile lit up the features of Joe Smith. It shone from his eyes, parted his lips, lurked in the dimple in his chin, and then slowly died away. His eyes held it the longest.

That smile had won many a friend for the lad. It made him a favorite at college, in the village, and in the church with the Greys and the Maises alike. But never had it made a greater conquest than now. Every child and every grown-up whose heart is young is a hero-worshiper. In the heart of Periwinkle a new fire was kindled, a new shrine built. Then and there he decided that his every deed should be worthy of his Ideal.

"You don't want me to fight at all," he questioned after a moment of silent adoration. "And I won't unless they pitch into Pearl. Why, here comes your father and I guess it's most supper-time."

"Oh," laughed the minister, entering the room, "Miss Hetty's table would make an appeal to anyone. I know you could not resist it, or I would ask you to stay here for your supper."

"We'll come again, thank you," said Pearl, "but it's cream pie tonight, please, and I helped Aunt Hetty make it."

"Pearl," said Periwinkle when they were started on their way home, "there's one thing I want you to notice, Smith called me Peri and from now on that's my name. Periwinkle sounds like a sissy. There was once a great man named Perry. Will you remember, Pearl?"

"Yes, Periwinkle," replied his sister absent-mindedly, "but don't you love the story he told us?"

"It was beautiful," replied her brother, "and I think it's splendid to try to do good because Jesus loved people so, and because Joe Smith loves Him too."

CHAPTER IV

The Clan

Preparations for the "big dinner" to which all the Maises had been invited and to which, knowing the good treat which was in store, they had been eagerly looking forward, were about complete. This dinner was to be held at Miss Hetty's home, as a birthday celebration in honor of the "clan leader," as the minister's son had designated that worthy man. Jeoffrey Maise was the twin brother of the deceased owner of the famous pig and it was he who had always maintained the bloodless but bitter feud with the greatest fervor. It was always his eloquence and burning hatred that rekindled the flame when the blaze of enmity showed any signs of abating.

He had now reached his sixty-fifth year and to do him honor Aunt Hetty assisted by a bevy of rosy-cheeked nieces and cousins, had brewed and baked and stewed one hot morning in late August. Altogether eight families of Maises, arrayed in their best, sallied out to the white-gabled home of their spinster relative. Not only were they prompted to attend because of the prospect of revelling in the contents of Miss Hetty's famous kitchen, but they would also have the opportunity of meeting the "circus children."

Pearl and Periwinkle had up to this time met only a few of their mother's relatives, but on this day they submitted to a deluge of kisses, questions, stares, and advances that wellnigh overwhelmed them, but which they nevertheless met with commendable equanimity. On the whole their aunts and great-aunts, uncles and great-uncles, cousins and near-cousins were better pleased with the children than perhaps the children were with them. The common agreement was that Myra's boy and girl were exceptionally pretty, bright, and not at all ill-mannered; although they perhaps lacked the shyness of their village cousins.

When dinner at last was over, the big living room became the scene of an important family council. A vivacious girl of sixteen clad in a smart white linen frock with shoes to match, took her young cousins in charge, expecting to entertain them, while their elders were engaged in a discussion that would in no way likely be of interest to young minds. She informed them that she was the only child of Eldon Maise and how she spent her winters in a fashionable boarding school, only coming to the country in summer to spend her vacation. Eldon Maise, as Peri knew, was the rich man of the "clan." But the lively prattle of his sister and their dainty cousin on topics of interests common only to girls, bored him and he soon found himself becoming interested in the conversation of his elders.

"You say Jim Grey's son-in-law is running for postmaster?" the guest of honor was asking.

"So I hear," replied his nephew Eldon in his cold, quiet way.

"You don't intend to sign his petition, Eldon?" demanded the old man, his suspicion aroused by the matter-of-fact answer of his nephew.

"Oh, business is business, Uncle," retorted the younger man, rather abruptly. "I can't afford to provoke the illwill of the Greys. If Holner comes to me, I dare say I