The Arizona sentinel. [volume] (Arizona City [Yuma], Yuma County, A.T. [Ariz.]) 1872-1911, 1889-08-24
NUMBER 80.

stockings, and her admiration was un'
bounded over their hue.
Red stOckies, and a red hood. and
red mitties My. it pears Sunday
won't ever GOMEZ
Crimson" corrected grandma; mot
red.' But it mattered little to Dot
what the color was named when she
drew the bright stockings upon her
chubby legs and over them again pair
of shining new shoes.
"You will be proud of these stock
ings," said grandma, on Saturday night,
as she rounded the toe with a bit Of
white wool, "because you helped me to
wind the wool, you know, Dot"
Yes" assented the little one, with
a proud air, wasn't 1 dood, grand
map"
''And you so tired, too" went on
grandma, ignoring her question.
''And so nervous responded Dot
Eyes, and you called me zasperatin'
old poke gravely responded grand
ma, ''and snapped the thread on pur-
pose to make me give over the wind
ing"
Dot opened wide her eyes.
"How did you know that?" she
queried. ''Now don't say little bird
told you Grandma, cause Use tired to
deaf hearin' that story"
Never mind how knew, Dot. The
fact remains that there were knots in
my fair ball of wool, and knots, you
know, can never be Strengthened out,
never!'
Dot looked at her grandma rehec-
lively.
Didn't you ever make knots in your
drandma's wool?' she asked. soberly.
None but what 1 had to pay for" re-
piled the old lady, suppressing smile.
Knots are troublesome things Dot, as
you may find out before you are many
days older
OFF to Sunday-schoo1 hied Dot the
next morning, resplendent in new at
tire. Grandma smiled grimly when she
returned with perceptible limp in her
gait.
"Somefn /, hurtin' my heel" she in
formed us at dinner. reluctantly.
Your new shoes, l suppose" sug-
gested her mother, you had best take
them off and put on your old ones"
But Dot demurred, and like her
elders, sometimes, for vanity's sake,
endured the torture the remainder of
the day.
Grandma said never word. Bed
time came, and with sigh of relief
Dot drew off her shoes.
''Its in my stockie. said she, after
due examination; there's two dreat big
knots in the heel"
"Knots?' echoed grandma.
There was no stupidity about our
bright Dot, and she understood all the
meaning conveyed in grandma's tone
and look at once.
"Knots of impatience, Dot could
not refrain from saying, 'fOr which
you have suffered all day long"
''And undutifulness, added grand
ma. ''and covert untruthfulness.
Dot turned the color of her stock
ings.
You might have smooved 'em out"
she said, carefully examining her bis
tered heel.
Out of the wool, perhaps" answer
ed grandma earnestly. "but not so cas-
lily the knots when formed in the skein
of character, Dot.
Several days after grandma beckoned
me to approach an open door. Within
could be heard the voices of Dot, Willie
and Rose. An alteration was evident
ly in progress concerning the destruc-
tion of a doll In a rocking-chair sat
Dot with pair of grandma's specta-
cles upon her nose. Gravely she peered
over them at the flushed face of Willie
"Who broke Dolly's head?" she
questioned.
"Roser answered he, promptly.
Dear, dear" exclaimed Dot, bend
ing forward, ''such snarl as you are
dettin' the skein into, Willie"
What skein?' asked he, sulkily.
did you or didn't you break Dolly's
head?" she continued, without answer
ing his question.
mo, 1 didn'tr' This very emphatic
ally
Mother knot in the skein,' said
Dot, initiating grandma's tone and
manner to perfection. mother dreat
big knot, my child, 'cause-'cause
saw you do it."
An impressive silence, broken only
by Willie's sniffies.
keep on tellin' stories, Willie"
gravely went on the little monitor,
land you II det all tangled up like
like a skein of wool when you let your
hands drop. Then comes knots, and
knots never can be smooved out, never.
They'll get knitted into your hide, my
child, and-and div you a heap of tor
ment. l knOwr' and pushing the spec
tacles back upon her head, Dot sank
into d gentle reverie, so much like her
grandma's that the smile died from our
lips, and the dear old lady, as we tip
toed back to our room, said in trem-
bling tones: Heaven bless the child"
Mrs. Nora Marble, in N. Y. OBJ
server.
"A once superstitious Albanian, who
consulted dream book" for every