At the close of a hot summer's day Pixie Turner stood at the foot of the long, steep flight of stairs that led to her tiny flatlet. Pixie was not the name that she was christened; her father had nicknamed her that, as her way of dancing through life reminded him of a fairy sent to earth.
She was a pretty girl. Her dark brown hair crowned an oval face which had blue eyes, long lashes, an up-tilted nose, and a very pleasing mouth.
At 17 she was left alone in the world, both her parents being lost in a yachting disaster. Pixie was rescued, only to wish a year later that she had shared their fate. for one day she stumbled in front of a tramcar and woke up in hospital nearly legless. Both limbs had to be amputated just above the knee. At first, she was too shocked and grieved to want to live. She begged the doctors to try and end her misery for ever. But after six months she was recovering and taking an interest in life once more.
Six month later still, at the age of 19, when most girls are enjoying partied and dances, Pixie was desperately seeking a job as a typist. Walking bravely from office to office on two peg legs and a pair of crutches. She speedily found that even girls possessed of two sound limbs could not get work so that her own plucky bids for employment were practically useless.
On this particular evening she faced the fact she had but a few pence between her own self and the wolf. She set her red lips grimly as she tucked both crutches under one arm and, with her free hand clinging to the handrail, started to climb the stairs. once or twice she moaned between clenched teeth as the straps securing the "pegs" cut into her delicate girlish flesh. At last breathlessly she gained the landing and, unlocking her door, dragged herself to the bed, where she dropped her crutches and herself in utter exhaustion. Then, when she had regained her strength, Pixie pulled herself to a sitting position and proceeded to review the situation.
Three pennies left. Then what? No wonder the papers were full of suicides! She shivered as her eye fell on the gas-ring. A legless little cripple girl, no job, no money, and alone. The only way out she decided. But the more she thought of this, Pixie knew that even a legless life was worth while, and she just as quickly put all her morbid ideas aside and made up her mind to see if the morning brought a change of luck before she put her last penny in the meter.
Having worked out her plan of campaign for the morrow, Pixie slid off the bed and, supported on her crutches, walked about the room collecting up cigarettes, books and matches, before she returned to the bed.
Safely seated once more, she lit a cigarette, then slowly undressed. Then she took off her clumsy yet indispensable legs, laying them on the floor beside the crutches. Next, Pixie slipped off her thin woolen stump socks, revealing a pair of shortened yet still perfect limbs - perfect, thanks to modern plastic surgery. They were chafed and sore from the long walk, and she was gently massaging the aching members when a soft tap sounded at the door.
Thinking it to be the girl from the flat below, who often assisted her to do things she could hardly manage herself, Pixie did not bother to cover her bare stumps with a wrap as she casually called: "Come in!"
Then, looking up, she went red with embarrassment as her eyes met those of a tall, good looking young man who stood equally embarrassed in the doorway.
Pixie grabbed wildly for the wrap which lay on the bedside chair and, to her intense annoyance, only succeeded in dropping it. Frantically she reached for it, overbalanced, and fell on the floor. A sharp pain shot through her shortened left limb, then a well of blackness engulfed her.
Pixie came back to earth conscious of three things - a dull ache accompanied by a stabbing pain in one of her stumps; that someone had slipped on her kimono for her; and that the same someone was holding her very gently in his arms.
Returning consciousness brought recollections of her dilemma, and she flushed rosily as she tried to sit up - only to fall back helplessly as the pain in the injured limb increased.
"I say," said a nice manly voice, "please don't faint again! You scared me horribly, you know."
Pixie smiled up at him as she said: "I'm sorry I made such a fool of myself, but I fell on my -" She paused in confusion, for she was still sensitive about her stumps where strangers were concerned.
The young man came to her rescue by saying easily: "You fell on one of your legs. It was my fault; I shouldn't have barged in so quickly."
Pixie smiled at him gratefully. "I thought you were the girl from the flat below."
"It was the girl from downstairs who told me about you," said her companion. "My name is Tony Fallow. I am a poster artist. Miss Grey, downstairs, told me you were out of a job, and I came to ask you if you'd care for a job as my model. You are pretty and have a perfect figure," he rushed in, seeing her confusion and guessing the cause.
"But - but," stammered Pixie crimsoning, "a model!" She paused pointing to the pegs and crutches. "I can't even walk without those things. You don't realise I am - er - nearly legless!"
Tony smiled. "You don't need to worry over that, little girl. Is it a deal?"
"Why, of course, if you can imagine I've got legs for the pictures," agreed Pixie with a shaky laugh.
"That's O. K., then," said Tony, adding casually, "A guinea a sitting is the fee."
"A guinea!" gasped Pixie, "why isn't that an awful lot too much?"
"It's the usual fee," he lied easily as he handed her his card. "And do you think you'll he all right?" he asked, as he stood up.
Pixie-glanced furtively at the injured stump. To her dismay a large bruise marred its tender flesh.
"Oh," she gasped, "I won't be able to walk for at least a day on this!"
Tony, who had been tactfully gazing through the window at the opposite roofs, turned at her cry.
"Can I do anything?" he asked. Poor Pixie gazed at him tearfully. "N-no; will you ask Margery Grey to come up?"
"Margery has gone out," Tony told her. "I saw her with her boy friend as I was coming here."
"I don't know what to do, then," said Pixie.
"Why not let me take her place?" asked Tony again.
"Oh you can't!" cried Pixie, blushing. "You're a man, and you can't be bothered with my troubles."
"Well, you can't be left like this," argued Tony, "and so I am going to help you."
He gathered the slight, limbless form into his arms, in spite of shy protests, and examined the bruise. After he had bandaged it, Tony made himself scarce while Pixie got into her nightie, then he came back to sit with her awhile.
"You are good to me," said Pixie gratefully. "Most folk flight shy of my" - she hesitated - "my condition."
"I think your misfortune makes you very fascinating," he said.
"You think my poor limbs fascinating?" queried Pixie unable to believe her ears. "Really?"
"Really!" laughed Tony. "You see," he continued, I've often seen you walking about and admired your pluck. Also I am one of those people who find that sometimes the half is better than the whole."
"I've often wondered why lots of folk have stared so hard at me," cried Pixie with a chuckle. "Now I know. I am glad somebody likes my crippled self!"
"You are not a cripple," disagreed Tony. "A cripple is a deformed person; and you are far from deformed."
There was silence for a while, then Pixie broke it by saying: "I was wondering how I am going to get to your studio, as I can't wear a peg leg on this stump, and I don't think I could manage on one peg!"
"Oh, that's easy," laughed Tony. "As you can't walk, I must carry you!"
"How?"
"In my car; I'll come round at ten for you."
A few minutes later Tony left her, his mind full of admiration for his bravely helpless little model, while Pixie's last thought before she went to sleep was how nice it was to know a kind, handsome young man.
II. At ten o'clock exactly Tony knocked at Pixie's door. She was lying on the bed dressed in a filmy summer frock that accentuated, rather than concealed, her limbs.
She smiled brightly at Tony as he entered, and in answer to his anxious queries about her accident on the previous evening, she said, "All the pain has gone except when I try to use it." She did not say that she almost fainted when she tried to stand on the floor, neither did she add that the girl in the flat below had bathed and dressed her, as she was too helpless to do anything for herself.
But Tony guessed it all.
"It's lovely to be carried down these stairs," said Pixie.
"Heavens!" exclaimed Tony. "Did that landlady let you come down unassisted then?"
"Why, of course," said his pretty burden. "why ever not? I used to feel awfully nervous, of course, but I had nobody to carry me."
"I'm jolly glad I came along, then," laughed Tony. Pixie was delighted when she saw the car, a long, black sports model. He settled her into the bucket seat beside his own, and it was only a short run to his studio. No sooner had he stopped the car than he had lifted his limbless passenger out and whisked her indoors before a few staring idlers had noticed anything.
"Gee, but that was a quick work!" laughed Pixie, as Tony put her into a chair.
"You've a nice studio," she added, her eyes wandering over the large covered easels, plain walls on which a few rare prints hung, and the huge window letting in the north light. "But we came here to work. What do I pose as?"
"Well," said Tony, "I have some lingerie advertisements to do, so if you will change into the things in the box besides you, and ring that bell when you are ready, I'll go and put the car in the garage, and will not butt in until you ring."
"Righto," agreed Pixie, as he left her. She slipped off her frock and opened the box. Her first impression of the contents was one of consternation, for the box contained a dainty set of lingerie of pure silk mesh. Surely the man did not expect her to pose in those? Then she smiled mischievously as she remembered that, being an artist, he would be quite used to anything.
Five minutes later Pixie rang the bell.
Tony could not help staring at the lovely vision confronting him. The garment revealed her charms advantageously. Her shortened limbs, to his mind, completed, rather than depleted, her natural beauty. He told her so, then asked if he could lift her so very helpless self on to the divan, where he wanted her to pose. Pixie blushingly agreed.
When he had placed her comfortably - for one limb was still painful, though of course now unbandaged - Tony turned to his easel and started work.
After an hours silent effort he threw down his palette and proposed coffee. Pixie readily agreed, so he wrapped her slender body in a silk shawl and carried her out on to the tiny verandah, where he put her gently into a low chair.
Over coffee, Pixie told him about herself, and he listened eagerly when she related her first difficulties in getting about on her peg legs and crutches. How she found it so difficult - often impossible - alone to do little things that before her amputation she took for granted - such as carrying things, or even sitting down, getting on or off 'buses and trams.
Pixie laughed as she told how awkward she felt the first time she tried to board a tram; of how the conductor had to lift her up the step. Even when she had at last entered the vehicle she had difficulty in sitting down - she had felt so embarrassed as she sat holding her crutches, her stiff peg legs extended awkwardly before her, getting in the way of everyone who tried to pass along the crowded car.
"How do you manage now?" asked Tony
"Still awkward as ever!" chuckled Pixie. "But I've got used to being stared at, of course!"
"I can understand folk staring at your pretty face and figure," said Tony.
"Oh, they only stare at my legs," scowled Pixie, "and I often hear the remark, 'What a pretty girl to be so crippled!' As if a crippled girl had no right to be pretty!"
Then, after a long pause, "When do we start work?"
"Right now if you like."
"Carry me in, then, please," requested Pixie. Then she added, "You will soon begin to wish I didn't have to be carried like a baby."
"On the contrary," Tony assured her, "I like to carry you. It's a change from the modern girls independence."
"But I am a modern girl," cried Pixie, indignantly, "I powder, use lipstick, and I smoke. I - " She paused, and with difficulty kept back the tears. "The only thing I don't do is lead a wild life!"
"Do you want to lead a wild life?" teased Tony, as he put her down on the divan.
"No; beggars can't be choosers," laughed Pixie, as she slipped off the wrap. "I don't stand a chance now my legs are so short. She kicked her rounded stumps mischievously as she assumed the required pose.
Tony concentrated on the picture for the next two hours, then declared lunch. To the girl's delight, he had arranged for lunch to be brought up to his flat.
During the meal they dropped being formal, and by the time coffee and cigarettes arrived Tony knew he had fallen in love with his model. And as for Pixie, she had fallen in love with her rescuer. Tony worked at his easel for two more hours in the afternoon. Then laying down his palette, he carried Pixie over to see the result. She saw an exact replica of her own pretty self, the only difference being that the girl in the picture had two slim legs and two shapely feet.
"Why," she explained, "that is exactly how I looked before I lost my legs!"
Tony smiled at her girlish enthusiasm; and later when he was driving her home, he asked casually: "If you're disengaged tonight, would you care to come to a party?"
"Come to a party?" echoed Pixie, hardly believing her ears.
"Yes," said Tony, "a friend of mine is giving a party in his studio - the usual sort of thing, cocktails, dancing, etc."
"I'd like to," said Pixie, wistfully, "but I am afraid you'll have to count your model out."
"Why?" asked Tony deliberately.
Pixie looked at him frankly.
"Whatever would be the use of it? I can't walk, so you'd soon tire of sitting with a mere cripple girl."
"Must I tell you again, you're not a cripple?" said Tony.
"But I am".
"No, you're not."
"I might be beautiful if I had my legs," said Pixie, shakily.
"Anyhow I am calling for you at eight to-night," decided Tony.
"Righto, I'll come; but you'll be fed-up with me by 8.30."
III. When Tony called for Pixie he found her sitting in a chair wearing a backless scarlet evening gown. It clung to her slim figure, showing off her youth to perfection. Pixie had chosen this dress from her scanty wardrobe to please him, fully believing now that he was attracted by her imperfections. More thrilled than he had ever been before, Tony gathered Pixie in his arms. "You remind me of a baby," he whispered.
His fair burden smiled, and suddenly kicking outwards with her tiny legs, she caused her empty skirt to float to and fro. Tony was so surprised that he nearly dropped her.
"Don't, for goodness sake, drop me," cried Pixie in mock alarm. "I'd fall a long way, you're so tall! The floor seems miles away and awfully hard looking!"
"I shan't drop you," Tony assured her as he carried her down to the car. They had not far to go to the friend's flat. Ten minutes later they entered his studio. A number of artistic young men and pretty girls, who Tony explained were mostly models, were lounging or dancing around the spacious studio to the strains of a large cabinet gramophone. Pixie had been secretly afraid that Tony's friends would be amused at the idea of a limbless girl coming to a party, but she soon found herself in the centre of an admiring circle of young men who all tried their best to win a smile. It was the first time since her loss that Pixie had the satisfaction of arousing the jealousy of other girls. Presently Tony carried her over to a large canvas. "This," he said, "is the cause of the party. My friend sold it yesterday."
The picture was entitled "A Modern Venus." A lovely girl smiled from the canvas. She was perfectly proportioned, the bobbed-curly brown hair which crowned her lovely face gleamed as if alive. As befitted a Venus, she was, of course, armless.
"The original will be here soon," said Tony, "I think she will interest you."
Just after Pixie resumed her seat there was a stir of interest through the room. Two girls entered. The taller of the two Pixie recognized as the "Venus."
Her dress was bizarre in the extreme. Her head was bare. Her deep blue gown fell in deep folds to within three inches of her ankles. Despite its fullness, Pixie saw it was slit each side to well above her knee. Her tiny feet were bare except for a pair of open sandals which emphasized the rouged heels and scarlet toenails. Her slim ankles were enhanced by bracelets that clinked musically as she moved. On her left ankle gleamed, to Pixie's amusement, a platinum wrist-watch. Over her shoulders she wore a white silk wrap.
The second girl, who turned out to be the Venus's maid, removed her mistress's sandals as soon as she was seated. The next moment Pixie knew why Tony had said she would interest her, for as the maid removed the cloak, Pixie saw the girl was armless. Her shoulders were perfect. Tony explained that Dolores was born armless, also that she was now engaged to Harry. their host. As soon as he could, Tony brought Dolores over to Pixie. The two girls soon became real friends.
The armless girl told Pixie that she could do everything herself except dress and undress. To prove her words, she deftly flicked up her slit gown, to reveal a vanity bag strapped to the thigh. Her lissome toes delved into the bag, fishing out cigarette-case and lighter. The former she held out to Pixie with her left toes, while her right toes manipulated the jeweled lighter.
As soon as both were puffing their cigarettes, Dolores holding hers daintily in her toes, Tony brought over cocktails for both and their host joined them. He was obviously proud of his fiancee, who sat casually drinking her martini out of a glass held in her carmined toes.
It was midnight when Tony suggested taking Pixie home, but actually 2 A.M. before she could tear herself away from the fascinating Dolores and her numerous male admirers.
As Tony was leaving her that night she murmured sleepily: "You are spoiling me, really. I am going to walk to the studio by myself tomorrow."
"Do you think you can?" he asked doubtfully.
"Why, of course I can! I'll be round at ten!" she promised.
Tony worried about Pixie's safety, until he heard the tap-tap of her crutches and the scrape of her peg legs as she slowly dragged herself into the studio. Hastening towards her, he took her crutches and supported her to a chair. Pixie sank into the chair gratefully.
"Have you ever tried artificial legs?" asked Tony, after he had welcomed her.
"Only in the nursing home I was in. Why?"
"Just thought you might get about easier," said Tony.
"I found them more awkward," replied Pixie. "They were heavier than these," pointing to the pegs, "and my amputations are too high for knee joints, so you see I'd need crutches just the same, as well as shoes and stockings", she added laughingly.
I can't imagine how you don't faint with pain," said Tony.
"I nearly do sometimes," she replied frankly. "What do I dress in this time?"
"Swim-suit," he answered, handing her a deep orange-coloured pair of trunks and brassiere to match.
"I'll come back when you ring," said Tony as her left her alone. Five minutes later the bell rang, summoning him to the studio. To his joy, Pixie, clad in the diminutive swim suit, was standing supporting herself by clinging to the window sill with her tiny hands.
"Proof," she cried gaily, "that I can stand alone!"
"Bet you can't reach me without a spill," challenged Tony.
"You watch me," she returned gamely, letting go her hold on the sill. Pixie took two rapid steps toward him, lost her balance, and sat plump down on the carpet.
Three times she got up and fell again, so Tony came to her rescue. Holding both her hands in his, he guided her faltering steps across the room to the model throne, where he seated her. "I'll have to teach you to walk!" he laughed as he started to work.
Work over for the day, Tony said suddenly: "Why don't you get some tiny crutches, so that you can walk on your stumps indoors?"
"Because it's easier to get about this way," cried Pixie. She sat on the floor and swung her trunk along quite easily, taking her weight on her hands, smiling up at him as she did so. Without any warning, Tony swept the little barely clad figure up into his arms and kissed her passionately.
"Pixie; if you will marry me, you will never need those peg legs or crutches again. I will always be here to carry you, you lovely darling!"
"If you squeeze me as tightly as this, I'll need my pegs to escape you," grasped Pixie.
Then it's yes?" asked Tony eagerly.
"Yes," murmured Pixie, shyly.
* * *
So it happened that a certain London church saw a lovely legless bride carried to the altar by a tall bridegroom.
It was a bride that knelt at the altar on the stumps of her legs, her long gown spread quite empty round her.