ran, a sheet of wet, golden asphalt glittering under the spring sun, and
beyond it, above the high retaining wall, budding trees stood out
against the sky, and the waters of the Park reservoirs sparkled behind.

"I am glad it's spring, anyway," said Geraldine listlessly.

"What's the good of it?" asked Scott. "We'll have to take all our
exercise with Kathleen just the same, and watch other children having
good times. What's the use of spring?"

"Spring _is_ tiresome," admitted Geraldine thoughtfully.

"So is winter. I think either would be all right if they'd only let me
have a few friends. There are plenty of boys I'd like to have some fun
with if they'd let me."

"I wonder," mused Geraldine, "if there is anything the matter with us,
Scott?"

"Why?"

"Oh--I don't know. People stare at us so--nurses always watch us and
begin to whisper as soon as we come along. Do you know what a boy said
to me once when I skated very far ahead of Kathleen?"

"What did he say?" inquired Scott, flattening his nose against the
window-pane to see whether it still hurt him.

"He asked me if I were too rich and proud to play with other children. I
was so surprised; and I said that we were not rich at all, and that I