Heart of Gold | Page 9

the fire-escape--"
"Was she hurt in a fire?" interrupted Cherry with interest.
"No, there was no fire, but the fire-escape was her only playground, for
her mother would not let her run the streets with the other ragamuffins
of the tenements; and one day she fell and crushed her hip. But before
that, she had attended a free kindergarten around the corner and learned
her alphabet. Her mother has a little education, and she has managed to
find time to teach Sadie how to read, but that is all the child knows of
school."
"O," sighed Peace, with a sudden yearning for the rambling old
school-house, the high-ceilinged rooms, her low seat by the window,
and even stern Miss Phelps, "what a lot she has missed! Here I'm
feeling bad 'cause school will be out 'fore I am up again, if I have to
stay in bed two months longer, and I'll be way behind my classes. But
Sadie has never had a chance to go to school at all."
"Yes, dearie, you see how much you have to be thankful for, even if it
is two months before you can get out of doors again by yourself. Until
now, Sadie never knew what flowers looked like growing in the ground.
I sent her a pot of your hyacinths when the Aid made their monthly
visit to the Hospital, and Mrs. Cheever was just telling me that the child

could not believe they were really alive. It is so sad to find one cheated
out of so much in life."
"Isn't there something else I can send her of mine?" Peace anxiously
inquired. "I've got so much and she hasn't anything. These puzzles are
so stale I don't want to see 'em again and those books--"
"Suppose you make some scrapbooks to amuse her with at first,"
suggested Mrs. Campbell hastily, for when the missionary spirit seized
this restless, active body, it never ceased working until she had given
away not only all her own treasures, but all those belonging to her
sisters which chanced to fall into her hands.
"Scrapbooks!" cried Peace scornfully. "No one but babies cares for
them. Why, even Allee hasn't been int'rested in such things for ages."
Mrs. Campbell smiled inwardly at Peace's contempt, but gently
persisted, "Sadie is too weak to hold heavy books yet, dearie. The
puzzles might amuse her, but she tires so easily that I know some small
cambric scrapbooks would prove a boon to her just now. I agree with
you that she would soon grow weary of looking at mere pictures; but I
found some very unique and helpful little books in the attic the other
day which might give you some ideas. Ned Meadows made them one
summer for his own amusement while he was confined to his bed with
a broken leg. He cut up a lot of old magazines and pasted the articles
which interested him into some ancient notebooks Grandpa Campbell
had lying around the house. He was always on the lookout for items
concerning electricity, and one book was filled from cover to cover
with bits of such news. Another contained nothing but jokes which had
helped him laugh away a good many minutes; and still another was
used for anecdotes of famous men, with perhaps a photograph or
caricature to illustrate the little stories. He spent hours cutting and
pasting just for his own pleasure and amusement; but without realizing
it, he also stored away much useful knowledge in his brain while he
was waiting impatiently for the leg to mend. Don't you think that would
make an interesting play for you?"
"Ye--s," replied Peace dutifully but doubtfully. She was not as fond of

reading as were her sisters, and though her grandmother's plan sounded
interesting when it concerned someone else, she had her misgivings as
to its success when applied to herself.
"Then let's begin at once," cried Mrs. Campbell, trying to look
intensely eager, as she noted the lack of enthusiasm in the round,
cherubic face on the pillow. "We will make our books of cambric,
because that will be of lighter weight than paper, and I have stacks of
old magazines filled with short stories and bright sayings. Cherry, will
you please bring me my scissors from the work-basket and that roll of
colored cambric on the top shelf in the hall closet? Allee, wouldn't you
like to run down to the barn and ask Jud to bring us those old
'Companions' from the loft? Here comes Hope. Just in time, dearie, to
fetch us the paste from the library and the pinking iron which Gussie
was using last evening. We probably won't get as far as pasting
anything today, as it is so nearly night now, but we will have
everything