The Coconino sun., 1901-03-02

head, ana peere0 4C tne Bkein oI wooi'
 There's a snarl," she said, dear, dear. how did. that come"
 "Its an awful hard knot," cheerfully said Miss Dot, after grandma had made several attempts to disentangle the snarl. "I dess you had better get it all right, drandma, and we'll wind the ball mother time."
 "Oh, no, Dot, we'll get it all right now," replied grandma, with a jerk.
 Snap went the strand. Several min- utes were consumed in straightening the skein, and grandma carefully knot ted the broken threads together before resuming her winding.
 The sounds of laughter and jump ing outside the window came borne in upon the stiffness of the room. An other petulant movement from Dot.
 "I is so nervous, can't hold still," she next exclaimed, impatiently tug ging at the wool.
 Dear, dear, another knot" cried grandma, peering over her spectacles at Dot. "Why, at this rate, we will never get through"
 But at last it was done, and away scampered Dot, every vestige of ill., humor banished from her pretty face.
 Grandma's glance met mine.
 "The wool is for her own stockings" quietly said she, as if in answer to something she read in my eyes, land I intend these knots shall teach her a lesson which mere words would fail to accomplish. Youthful experience, if rightly impressed. may serve to guard the future from sterner ones."
 The old lady's favorite expression, q know" played about her firmly closed lips, but she gave no utterance to them as with ball in hand she sat gazing upon the pictures of the past pictures whose lights and shadows were reflected in her own dim eyes, in the fitting smile upon brow or lip. Well, if grandma had been slow in winding the ball, it was more than she was in lessening it again. How fast her needles flew! Early in the morn- ing, late at night, went on the knitting. Dots eyes watched the progress of the 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 come!"
 "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 a 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 dood, grandma?' ?''
 "And you so tired, too," went on grandma, ignoring her question.
 And so nervous" responded Dot.
 "Yes, and you called me 'zasperat. in old poke." gravely answered 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 quer' fed. "Now don't say little bird told you, drandma, cause rse tired to deat hearin' that story"
 Never mind how I knew, Dot. The fact remains that there were knots in my fair ball of wool, and knots, you knoU can npvor ho sf rai uhfanad ouf never!"
 Dot looked at her grandma reflec- lively.
 Didn't you ever make knots in your drandma's wool?" she asked, soberly
 "None but what had to pay for, re- piled the old lady, suppressing smile. Knots are troublesome things, Dot, as