l," he
went on, palpably striving for patience and gentleness, "there's nothing
you could do to help me. Women are too impractical. This is a man's
work, besides. By the way, after we've had our little outing, I'll leave
you with Lulu. Honey and Pete and I are going to meet at the Clubhouse
to work over some plans."

"All right," Peachy said. She added, "I guess I won't go out, after all.
I feel tired. I think I'll lie down for a while."

"Anything I can do for you, dear?" Addington asked tenderly as he left.

"Nothing, thank you." Peachy's voice was stony. Then suddenly she pulled
herself upright on the couch. "Oh--Ralph--one minute. I want to talk to
you about Angela. Her wings are growing so fast."

VII

"Where's Peachy?" Julia asked casually the next afternoon.

"I've been wondering where she was, too," Lulu answered. "I think she
must have slept late this morning. I haven't seen her all day."

"Is Angela with the children now?" Julia went on.

"I suppose so," Lulu replied. She lifted herself from the couch. Shading
her hands, she studied the group at the water's edge. Honey-Boy and
Peterkin were digging wells in the sand. Junior making futile imitative
movements, followed close at their heels. Near the group of women,
Honey-Bunch crept across the mat of pine-needles, chasing an elusive
sunbeam. "No, she's not there."

"Now that I think of it, Angela didn't come to play with Peterkin
this morning," said Clara. "Generally she comes flying over just after
breakfast."

"You don't suppose Peachy's ill," asked Chiquita, "or Angela."

"Oh, no!" Lulu answered. "Ralph would have told one of us."

"Here she comes up the trail now," Chiquita exclaimed. "Angela's with
her."

"Yes--but what's the matter?" Lulu cried.

"She's all bent over and she's staggering."

"She's crying," said Clara, after a long, intent look.

"Yes," said Lulu. "She's crying hard. And look at Angela--the darling!
She's trying to comfort her."

Peachy was coming slowly towards them; slowly because, although both
hands were on the rail, she staggered and stumbled. At intervals, she
dropped and crawled on hands and knees. At intervals, convulsions
of sobbing shook her, but it was voiceless sobbing. And those silent
cataclysms, taken with her blind groping progress, had a sinister
quality. Lulu and Julia tottered to meet her. "What is it, oh, what is
it, Peachy?" they cried.

Peachy did not reply immediately. She fought to cont