"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."