bout like other boys, and he'll want to know some nice,
int'resting games that can be played sitting still."

"Yes, I think that will be a good scheme," Gail agreed, wondering why
Peace never seemed to suspect the secret of those awkward crutches. "But
now you better rest awhile, for Dick--er Dr. Shumway will soon be here
with his auto ready to take us out to his sister's house, and you want
to be bright and fresh for dinner tonight."

So with much laughter and many regrets, the hospital staff and all the
patients watched Peace depart from its portals,--laughter, because she
was to be strong and well once more; regrets because of the void she
left behind her. And Peace, surprised that they cared so much, went her
way almost content. It was such a joy to be out-of-doors again; so
wonderful to get close to the heart of nature once more; and she
improved every moment of the week that followed in getting acquainted
with every being, beast and bird on the place, from grave-eyed Mr. Wood
who was at home only in the evenings, down to Twitter, the
yellow-coated, golden-throated canary, which sang all day in his cage.
She romped with Billy Bolee, made pies with Kate, the cook, played
checkers with their kindly host, and tried to master the art of
embroidery under Mrs. Wood's instruction; but her favorite occupation
was stumping about the grassy yard with her crutches, and it surprised
and delighted her to find how little they really hampered her. When she
tired of her explorations, there was a great elm by the fence where she
loved to rest, and it was here that she sat playing with Billy Bolee one
hot afternoon when she was startled to hear a strange voice demand, "Are
you truly lame?"

Glancing up in surprise, she beheld a fat, dirty face, crowned by a
shock of tumbled red hair, pressed against the lattice-work, while a
pair of alert, gray eyes peered at her through the narrow opening. So
unexpected was the query,--for Peace had not been aware of another's
presence,--that she could think of nothing to say, and merely grunted,
"Huh?"

The stranger outside the gate obediently repeated, "Are you truly lame?"

"Yes. Why?"

"'Cause Ma says she guesses this must be a lame house," piped up another
voice close by, and Peace discovered a second dirty-faced, red-headed
youngster peering between the slats.

"A lame _house_?" echoed Peace in bewilderment. "How can a _house_ be
lame?"

"Aw, Antonio don't mean the house, nor neithe