e in their fortunes when he had adopted the whole flock.

When she had finished her recital there were tears in the blue eyes, and
the white-faced lady murmured compassionately, "Poor little sisters!
There are so many orphans in this big world."

Something in her tone and the far-away expression of her eyes impelled
Peace to say with conviction, "You are an orphan, too."

"Yes, child."

"Since you were a little girl?"

"Since I was five years old."

"Oh, as little as Allee when mamma died! Wasn't there anyone to take
care of you? Did your Aunt Pen adopt you?"

"Aunt Pen has always lived with us. I don't remember any other mother."

"And did you always live here?"

"Yes, I was born here. It wasn't part of the city then."

"But you don't look real old."

"I am not _real_ old. I was twenty-four last November."

"And Gail was nineteen the same month! You're only four, five years
older than she is. That's not much--but there's a bigger difference."

"How, dear?"

"Oh, she looks 'sif she liked to live better'n you do."

The woman drew a long, shivering breath and closed her eyes as if a
spasm of pain had seized her; and Peace, frightened at the death-like
pallor of the face, quavered, "Oh, don't faint! What is the matter? Are
you sick? Or is it just a chill? Maybe you better run around a bit until
you get warm."

The deep, unfathomable blue eyes opened, and the voice said bitterly, "I
can _never_ run again. I must lie in this chair all the rest of my life
with nothing to do but think, think, think! Do you wonder now that I am
not happy? Do you understand now why Aunt Pen has a hard time? Do you
see the reason for that tall, thick hedge all around the yard?"

"No," Peace replied bluntly. "I can't see a mite of sense in it! If I
had to live in a chair all my days, I'd want it where I could watch the
world go by. I'd cut down all the hedges and let the sun shine in. If I
couldn't run about myself, I'd just watch the folks that did have good
feet. I'd wave my hands at the children and give 'em flowers, and they'd
come and talk to me when I was tired of reading. I'd have a bird like
you've got, and I'd make a pet of it, too. I'd have more'n one; I'd have
a whole m'nagerie of dogs and cats and rabbits and squirrels and--and
ponies, maybe, and a monkey or two. And I'd teach them to do tricks, and
then I'd call all the poor little children who can't go to the circus to
see my animals perform. I'd have gardens of f