family, yet it was an unusually happy winter to her, for Rose
Allison's love and uniform kindness shed sunshine on her path. She
had learned to yield readily to others, and when fretted or
saddened by unjust or unkind treatment, a few moments alone with
her precious Bible and her loved Saviour made all right again, and
she would come from those sweet communings looking as serenely
happy as if she had never known an annoyance. She was a wonder to
all the family. Her grandfather would sometimes look at her as,
without a frown or a pout, she would give up her own wishes to
Enna, and shaking his head, say, "She's no Dinsmore, or she would
know how to stand up for her own rights better than that. _I_
don't like such tame-spirited people. She's not Horace's child; it
never was an easy matter to impose upon or conquer him. He was a
boy of spirit."

"What a strange child Elsie is?" Adelaide remarked to her friend
one day. "I am often surprised to see how sweetly she gives up to
all of us; really she has a lovely temper. I quite envy her; it
was always hard for me to give up my own way."

"I do not believe it was easy for her at first," said Rose. "I
think her sweet disposition is the fruit of a work of grace in her
heart. It is the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which God
alone can bestow."

"I wish I had it, then," said Adelaide, sighing.

"You have only to go to the right source to obtain it, dear
Adelaide," replied her friend, gently.