Heart of Gold | Page 6

"Guess their game is over for tonight. Well, it is time. The clock is just ready to strike five."
Edith turned back to the piano, but before her hands had touched the ivory keys, there was a wild, excited, protesting shout from outside that brought her to her feet and sent her flying for the door.
"Peace, Peace! Come down. You'll fall! You'll fall!"
"Johnny Gates, take that back! She's not a coward! She couldn't keep the ball from catching in that corner."
"Oh, Peace, never mind the ball. It's Johnny who's the coward."
"Hush! You will confuse her!" Edith's voice was low but vibrant, and the screams from the terrified watchers below abruptly ceased.
Peace had reached the ball wedged in a hollow by the chimney, and with accurate aim, sent it spinning down to its white-faced, tearful owner; but as she turned to crawl back the way she had come, her foot slipped, she wavered uncertainly, and fell with a crash to the roof, rolling over and over in a vain endeavor to stop her mad career, till, with the horrified eyes of the stricken audience glued upon her, she slid over the coping and landed in a crumpled heap on the sodden turf below.
Then pandemonium broke loose. Evelyn burst into uncontrollable sobs, Fanny toppled over in blissful unconsciousness, Cherry, beside herself with grief, tore down the street to break the direful news to those at home; and the boys danced and pranced in their terror, as they screamed, "She's dead, she's dead! Peace Greenfield's dead!"
For a brief instant, which seemed like eternity to Edith Smiley, she stood rooted to the spot, transfixed by the very horror of it all. Then loyal Allee's frenzied scream brought her to her senses, and she saw the golden head bending over the disheveled form in the mud, as the child repeated again and again, "She's not dead! She can't be dead! I won't let her be dead!" Swiftly Edith knelt beside the pair and sought to lift the older child to carry her into the house. But at her first touch, the brown eyes unclosed, and a roguish smile broke over the white face, as Peace looked up at the frightened figures above her and giggled hysterically, "I've often wondered what it would feel like to fly. Do you s'pose it makes the birds sick and dizzy every time they make a swoop?"
"Peace!" gasped Edith, "are you hurt?"
"No, only things look kind of tipsy 'round here, and my breath has got St. Vitas Dance." Slowly she stretched out her arms and legs that they might see that none of her limbs were broken; but when she attempted to sit up, her lips went white and she fell back on the trampled grass with a stifled groan.
"You are hurt, Peace Greenfield," declared anxious Allee, hovering over her like a mother bird over her young.
"There's a place in my back," whispered the injured girl faintly. "I guess maybe one of my ribs is cracked."
At this moment the distracted President and wild-eyed Gail pushed through the knot of children huddled about the fallen heroine, and demanded huskily, "How is she? Not dead? Thank God! Any bones broken?"
"Nope, Grandpa," smiled Peace cheerfully. "I just got a cricket in my back, so it hurts a little when I wiggle; but I got Johnny's ball, too, didn't I?"
"I'm afraid there is something wrong," whispered Edith Smiley, with a worried look in her eyes, as she made way for the President. "She can't move without groaning."
The stalwart man stooped over the outstretched figure and gathered it in his arms, but as he lifted her from the ground she screamed in agony and fainted quite away. Thus they bore her home--the President with the still form on his bosom, Gail bearing the muddy red stocking cap, Cherry and Allee bringing up the rear, while a hushed, scared-faced throng of playmates followed at some distance.
The next morning the corner seat by the window in Miss Phelps' room was vacant for the first time that year, and the teacher looked up in surprise when no familiar voice answered, "Present," when she called Peace Greenfield's name.
"She fell off the roof of Smiley's house," volunteered one scholar.
"And broke her back," supplemented another.
"What!" shrieked the horrified teacher, with a strange, sickening fear clutching at her heart.
The door opened, and the school principal entered the room, looking worn and distraught.
"Miss Lisk," cried the teacher, turning eagerly to her superior, "the children tell me that Peace Greenfield has fallen from some roof and broken her back."
"O, it's not as bad as that," responded the older woman promptly. "She has had a nasty fall and is--hurt. How badly, the doctor is unable yet to say, but we hope she will soon be with us again." Lowering her voice so none but the teacher