“I don’t know that I am particularly interested in Pete’s opinion of your abilities,” Addington rejoined coldly.  “My dear little girl,” he went on, palpably striving for patience and gentleness, “there’s nothing you could do to help me.  Women are too impractical.  This is a man’s work, besides.  By the way, after we’ve had our little outing, I’ll leave you with Lulu.  Honey and Pete and I are going to meet at the Clubhouse to work over some plans.”

“All right,” Peachy said.  She added, “I guess I won’t go out, after all.  I feel tired.  I think I’ll lie down for a while.”

“Anything I can do for you, dear?” Addington asked tenderly as he left.

“Nothing, thank you.”  Peachy’s voice was stony.  Then suddenly she pulled herself upright on the couch.  “Oh — Ralph — one minute.  I want to talk to you about Angela.  Her wings are growing so fast.”

VII

“Where’s Peachy?” Julia asked casually the next afternoon.

“I’ve been wondering where she was, too,” Lulu answered.  “I think she must have slept late this morning.  I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Is Angela with the children now?” Julia went on.

“I suppose so,” Lulu replied.  She lifted herself from the couch.  Shading her hands, she studied the group at the water’s edge.  Honey-Boy and Peterkin were digging wells in the sand.  Junior making futile imitative movements, followed close at their heels.  Near the group of women, Honey-Bunch crept across the mat of pine-needles, chasing an elusive sunbeam.  “No, she’s not there.”

“Now that I think of it, Angela didn’t come to play with Peterkin this morning,” said Clara.  “Generally she comes flying over just after breakfast.”

“You don’t suppose Peachy’s ill,” asked Chiquita, “or Angela.”

“Oh, no!” Lulu answered.  “Ralph would have told one of us.”

“Here she comes up the trail now,” Chiquita exclaimed.  “Angela’s with her.”

“Yes — but what’s the matter?” Lulu cried.

“She’s all bent over and she’s staggering.”

“She’s crying,” said Clara, after a long, intent look.

“Yes,” said Lulu.  “She’s crying hard.  And look at Angela — the darling!  She’s trying to comfort her.”

Peachy was coming slowly towards them; slowly because, although both hands were on the rail, she staggered and stumbled.  At intervals, she dropped and crawled on hands and knees.  At intervals, convulsions of sobbing shook her, but it was voiceless sobbing.  And those silent cataclysms, taken with her blind groping progress, had a sinister quality.  Lulu and Julia tottered to meet her.  “What is it, oh, what is it, Peachy?” they cried.

Peachy did not reply immediately.  She fought to control herself.  “Go down to the beach, baby,” she said firmly to Angela.  “Stay there until mother calls you.  Fly away!”