r does Ma. They just mean
that every one what lives in it is lame."

"I don't see how you make that out," Peace began, still puzzled.

"Well, you're lame, ain't you?"

"Yes."

"And that little baby is lame."

"Y--e--s."

"And the doctor man is lame--"

"But not for keeps," Peace eagerly interrupted. "He just broke his leg
and some day it will be all well again, and he won't even limp or need a
cane."

"Oh!" The first speaker seemed relieved.

"And will the baby some day walk all right?" asked the second tousled
figure.

"No--o, I don't s'pose his short leg will ever catch up with the other
one now," Peace reluctantly admitted. "But he's not very lame anyway. He
don't limp _much_."

"Neither do you," persisted the boy called Antonio, "but you use
crutches. You're worser off than the rest of the bunch."

"But I don't live here," she flashed triumphantly, bound to uphold the
honor of that household at any cost. "I'm just visiting for this week."

"Oh!" This time the exclamation expressed such regret that Peace asked
solicitously, "What's the matter? Did you like to think of a whole bunch
of lame folks living in one house?"

"No," the older boy declared, "but we was in hopes you lived here, for
then we could come over sometimes and play with you maybe."

Peace surveyed her two uninvited guests dubiously and then glanced at
her own spotless frock and at Billy's spandy new rompers. "Who--who--are
you?" she finally stammered, unable to keep her pert little nose from
showing some of the disgust she felt.

"My name is Tobias McGee," he answered pompously, as if proud of the
fact. "I'm ten years old. Tony--he's one of the twins--he's eight."

"I am Antonio," the second boy interrupted, bristling belligerently.
"How many times has Ma told you to quit calling me Tony?"

"She's told you to leave off calling me Toby, too," retorted Tobias
scathingly, "but you hain't did it. Gus is the other twin--"

"Augustus," corrected the offended Antonio.

"See here," blustered Tobias threateningly, "are you telling this, or
me?"

Peace, watching with fascinated eyes the pending scrap, became suddenly
aware that her guests had increased in number, and, glancing over her
shoulder, she found five other dirty, ragged, red-headed, unattractive
looking children lined up outside the fence, peeping at her through the
slats. "Are--are there any more of you?" she demanded, taking a rapid
inventory of the new arrivals.

The la