Angel Island

"Mine are quite useless," Chiquita sighed. "Oh, why did I let myself

grow so big?" There was a note of despair in her velvet voice. "It's

almost as if there were no muscles in them." She pulled aside her

scarlet draperies. In spite of her increasing size, her dusky feet had

kept their aristocratic Andalusian lines.

"And I've always done just the things that would make it impossible for

me to walk," said Clara in a discouraged tone. "I've always taken as

much care of my feet as my hands - they're like glass." This was true.

In the pale-gold of her skin, the pink nails glittered brilliantly.

"And think of your own feet, Julia," Lulu exclaimed. "They're like

alabaster. Pete says that from the artist's point of view, they're

absolutely perfect. You don't imagine for an instant that you could take

a step on them, unsupported?"

"No?" said Julia. "No?" With a swift leap of her body, she stood on the

feet in question. And as the other stared, stupefied, she walked with

the splendid, swinging gait of an Amazon once, twice, thrice around the

Playground.

"Come, Angela!" Peachy called. "Come, baby!"

Angela started to spread her pinions. "Don't fly, baby," Peachy called.

"Walk!"

Obediently, Angela dropped her wings, sank. Her feet, shell-like,

pinky-soft, padded the ground. She tried to balance, but she swayed and

fell.

"No matter, darling!" Peachy called cheerily, "Try again!"

Angela heroically pulled herself up. She made a few uncertain steps, but

she stumbled with every move.

Honey-Boy and Peterkin came running up to her side; Junior, grinning

happily, waddled behind a long way in the rear. "Angela's trying to

walk!" the boys cried. "Angela's trying to walk!" They capered with

amusement. "Oh, isn't she funny? Look at the girl trying to walk!"

The tears spurted from Angela's eyes. Her lips quivered. Her wings shot

up straight.

"Don't mind what the boys say, Angela!" Peachy called. "Put your wings

down! Keep right on walking!"

Again Angela's pinions dropped. Again she took a few steps. This time

she fell to her knees. But she pulled herself up, sped onward, fell

again, and again. She had reached the stones that bounded the sand. When

she arose this last time, her foot was, bleeding.

"Keep on walking, baby!" Peachy commanded inflexibly. But there was a

rain of tears on her check.

Angela staggered forward a rod or two; and now both feet left a trail of

blood. Then suddenly again she struggled for balance, fell headlong.