once then she found herself on the other side of the wall, with Jimmy bending over her, imploring her to tell him she was not dead.
With an hysterical laugh that was yet half a sob, she struggled out of his arms and stood upon her feet.
"Dead? No, indeed—thanks to you, Jimmy. I'm all right. I'm all right. Oh, how glad, glad, glad I was to hear your voice! Oh, that was splendid! How did you do it?" she panted.
"Pooh! That was nothing. I just—" An inarticulate choking cry brought his words to a sudden halt. He turned to find Jamie face down on the ground, a little distance away. Pollyanna was already hurrying toward him.
"Jamie, Jamie, what is the matter?" she cried. "Did you fall? Are you hurt?"
There was no answer.
"What is it, old fellow? Are you hurt?" demanded Jimmy.
Still there was no answer. Then, suddenly, Jamie pulled himself half upright and turned. They saw his face then, and fell back, shocked and amazed.
"Hurt? Am I hurt?" he choked huskily, flinging out both his hands. "Don't you suppose it hurts to see a thing like that and not be able to do anything? To be tied, helpless, to a pair of sticks? I tell you there's no hurt in all the world to equal it!"
"But—but—Jamie," faltered Pollyanna.
"Don't!" interrupted the cripple, almost harshly. He had struggled to his feet now. "Don't say—anything. I didn't mean to make a scene—like this,"
