Angel Island - Page 108/136

"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!"

The little girl fluttered irresolutely. "Fly away, dear!" Peachy

repeated. Angela mounted a breeze and made off, whirling, circling,

dipping, and soaring, in the direction of the water. Once or twice, she

paused, dropped and, bounding from earth to air, turned her frightened

eyes back to her mother's face. But each time, Peachy waved her on.

Angela joined Honey-Boy and Peterkin. For a moment she poised in the

air; then she sank and began languidly to dig in the sand.

"I couldn't let her hear it," Peachy said. "It's about her. Ralph - ."

She lost control of herself for a moment; and now her sobs had voice. "I

asked him last night about Angela and her flying. I don't exactly know

why I did. It was something you said to me yesterday, Julia, that put it

into my head. He said that when she was eighteen, he was going to cut

her wings just as he cut mine."