"No! No! For goodness' sake, no! She won't let me cry, and I've _got_
to, or--or--"

"Bu'st," suggested Peace, nodding her head sympathetically. "Yes, I know
how 'tis. The nurse I had the first time after I was hurt wouldn't let
me cry, either. But this time Miss Wayne never said 'boo,' when I
couldn't hold in any longer. She'd let me have it all out by myself and
then she'd come and tell me a funny story. _She_ had sense."

"I wish Miss Pierson had some. She's always preaching sunshine and
smiles. It's no wonder that girl downstairs can whistle and laugh.
_She's_ got folks to look after her all her life, and money to buy
anything she wants."

"What girl?" asked Peace, with a curious sinking of heart.

"They call her Peace--"

"That's me, I thought 'twas. The d'scription seemed to fit so well."

The stranger drew back aghast, then said bitterly, "I might have known
it."

"Don't you like me?" pleaded the child, feeling that her companion had
grown suddenly antagonistic.

"I--I hate you!"

"But--but--why?" stammered Peace, thunder-struck by this uncompromising
declaration.

"Because you have everything I need, and I can't have anything."

"You have good legs," Peace wistfully whispered.

"And you have good hands," her companion shot forth.

"Hands!" Peace all at once became aware of the bandages which hid that
other pair of hands from sight. "Wh--hat's the matter with yours? Did
you hurt them? Have you got _any_?"

"Apologies!" Her voice was harsh with intense bitterness, her eyes were
dull with despair.

"Apologies?" Peace failed to understand.

"They are useless. I burned them," explained the other hopelessly.

"But won't they _ever_ be any good?" Peace persisted, her eyes wide with
horror.

"No, I can never write again."

"Write?"

"I write stories for a living. It's all I can do when I have to stay at
home with Mother and Benny. And now--God! what is there left for me to
do?"

"You swore."

"I did not."

"Then maybe you prayed. Was it a prayer?"

"I can't pray. It's useless to pray. Those two hands brought in my bread
and butter,--the bread and butter for us three. And now they are
hopelessly crippled. What can I pray for?"

"Your bread and butter."

"Pshaw!" The girl laughed derisively, then broke off abruptly. "You
don't understand," she said in lifeless tones.

"No," Peace agreed, "p'r'aps I don't. 'Twas _my_ feet. How did you come
to burn your hands?"

"Benny upset a lam