usly, murmured drowsily "I can't say I
admire your dec'rations," and fell asleep under the gentle fumes of the
ether.

It seemed hours later when she awakened to consciousness and saw about
her the white, drawn, anxious faces of her loved ones. "Then I'm not
dead yet," she exclaimed with satisfaction. "That's good. Did you get my
back patched up, Dr. Coates?"

The horrible strain was broken. With stifled, hysterical sobs, the
family hurriedly withdrew, and the nurse bent over the bed with her
finger on her lips as she gently commanded, "Hush, childie, you mustn't
talk now. We want you to get some sleep so the little back will have a
chance to heal."

"Can I talk when I wake up?" Peace demanded weakly.

"Yes, if you are very good."

"All right. You can go now. I don't like folks to stare at me when I'm
asleep. It d'sturbs my slumber." Closing her eyes once more, she fell
into a dreamless sleep, and the doctors departed, much pleased with the
result of their operation.

The days of convalescence were busy ones in the Campbell household, for
it required the combined efforts of family, nurse, doctor and friends to
keep the restless patient's attention occupied. St. John and Elizabeth
came often to the big house, bringing Glen or Guiseppe or Lottie to
amuse the prisoner; Miss Edith laughingly declared that she was more
frequently found in the Flag Room than in her own home; Ted and Evelyn
vied with each other to see which could run the most errands, read the
most stories, or propose the most new plays during the long vacation
hours; and even busy Aunt Pen found opportunity occasionally to steal
away for a brief visit with the brown-haired sprite who had brought so
much joy into her own heart and life.

For a time the operation seemed a decided success, the back appeared to
be stronger, the pain almost disappeared, and the nurse was no longer
needed in the sick room. One day a wheel-chair was substituted for the
bed where Peace had lain so many weeks; and for the first time since the
accident, she was carried out under her beloved trees, where she could
watch the flowers bud and blossom, smell their perfume on each passing
breeze, and listen to the nesting birds in the branches overhead. But
the crutches she had so fondly dreamed of, which were to teach her to
walk again, were not forthcoming, and with alarm she saw the summer slip
rapidly by while she lay among the pillows in the garden.

When she spoke of it to th