about the whole affair. It seems wicked to say so, but had the
accident happened to any other of the sisters, it would not have seemed
so dreadful. What is _Peace_ ever going to do without those nimble,
dancing feet?"

"Our Peace will surprise us yet," prophesied the little wife hopefully.
"This experience won't down her, hard as it seems now, if she is made of
the stuff I think she is."

But as the days rolled by in that afflicted household, it really seemed
as if they had lost their engaging, winsome little Peace for all time,
so changed did the invalid grow. Nothing suited her, everything annoyed.
The girls talked too much or were too silent; the servants were too
noisy or too obviously quiet; the President's shoes clumped and his
slippers squeaked; Mrs. Campbell always pulled the curtains too low or
not low enough. The dogs' barking fretted her, the singing of the canary
made her peevish, even the cat's purring brought forth a protest; but as
soon as the unreasonable patient discovered that all the pets had been
banished on her account, she demanded them back. However, the
long-suffering members of the family could not find it in their hearts
to chide, and they redoubled their efforts to make their little favorite
forget. Those were gloomy days in the Campbell household, for they sadly
missed the merry laughter, the gay whistle, the unexpected pranks and
frank speeches of this child of the sunshine and out-of-doors. At first
they had tried to be cheerful and full of fun in the sick-room, hoping
to win back the merry smile to the white lips; but Peace resented this
attitude, and straightway they ceased their songs and laughter, only to
have her demand them again. Unhappy, capricious Peace!

"Why don't you play on the piano any more?" she inquired of Faith one
afternoon, when it was that sister's turn to amuse the invalid for an
hour or two.

"Do you want me to?" cried Faith eagerly, for her fingers were just
itching to glide over the ivory keys.

"Of course,--s'posing you play something pretty."

So Faith took her place at her beloved instrument and dashed into a
brilliant, rattling jig which had always been a favorite of the
brown-haired sister.

But she had played scarcely a dozen measures when a shrill, imperious
voice from above shrieked, "Don't play that! O, stop, stop! Can't you
see it's got _legs_?"

"Legs?" wondered Faith, her hands poised in mid air, so abruptly had she
ceased her playing.

"The