wait! Whatever will I do with myself? My feet are just _itching_
to wiggle. I've been here two weeks now, and it seems two years. Two
months means _eight whole weeks_!"

The voice rose to a tragic wail, and Grandma Campbell, hearing the
commotion, hurried across the hall to discover the cause. She glanced
reprovingly at the two culprits when the tale of woe had been poured
into her ears with fresh laments from the small victims; but instead of
scolding, as remorseful Cherry and Allee expected her to do, she smiled
sympathetically, even cheerfully at the tragic face on the pillow, and
asked, "Supposing you were a little tenement-house girl, cooped up in a
tiny, stifling kitchen, with the steamy smell of hot soapsuds always in
the air, and you had to lie all day, week in and week out, with not a
book nor a toy to help while away the long hours. With not even a
glimpse of the world outside to make you forget for a time the cruelly
aching back--"

"O, Grandma, not _really_?" interrupted Peace, for something in the
sound of the gentle voice told her that this was no imaginary picture
which was being drawn. "Is there such a little girl?"

The white head nodded soberly.

"Isn't there even any _sunshine_ there?" The brown eyes glanced
wistfully out of the window, beside which the swan bed had been drawn,
and gloated in the beautiful April sunlight which was already coaxing
the grass into its brilliant green dress.

"Not a gleam," answered the woman sadly. "The buildings are jammed so
closely together, and the windows are so small that not a ray of
sunlight can penetrate a quarter part of the musty, dingy little rooms."

"Is that _here_--in Martindale?" inquired Cherry in shocked tones.

"Yes, on the North Side."

"What is the little girl's name?" asked Allee, awed into whispers by
this sad recital.

"Sadie Wenzell."

"How old is she?" was the next question.

"Just the age of Peace."

"O, a little girl!" exclaimed Cherry. "Will she ever get well again?"

The sweet-faced woman hesitated an instant. How could she tell the
eager listeners that long neglect had made poor Sadie's case well-nigh
hopeless? Then she answered slowly, "We are giving her every possible
chance now, dearies. The Aid Society found her by accident, and got her
into the Children's Ward of the City Hospital. She cried with happiness
because the bed was so soft and white and clean; and when the nurse
carries up her breakfast or dinner, it is hard