The Caucasian. (Clinton, N.C.) 188?-1913, 1913-02-13
A CRcTCH THAT BIOSsoNrD.
Anna Burnham Brvaa,.


"Aaron's rod vas nothing but a
stick. but I; biossomed
The door shut very. Tery softly.
and mother vent out But the
Thought stayed
Mother always vent out when she
had said something very important
that che wanted the girls 10 think
OF. Her ~ay was the very opposite
Of nagginE. She knew weii that this
vas one Of those little seed-thoughts
that need silence and darkness and
letting alone. and nobody poking and
pushing about in the mold TO see IL
they are roofing
II vas dark enough In the room
mother had left, IL that vas all.
Carol wanted IL dark Then she
could not see the hateful thing that
lay close TO her hand. and IL she Law
still where they put her-as If she
were a stock or a stone or a piece OF
furniture-she need not feel IL
either. II she had TO move about.
why. then. she must reach for her
crutch.
That was the trouble crutch. A
stick-what was that mother had
said about blossoming? Just an
answer TO her bitter. muttering
speech about the stick Well,
That Well" came out OF Carols
heart. and was just like it-hot. bit
ter and resentful.
The girl was calling from the
front hallway. then from the porch.
then from outside, as II she were
running down the walk-a loud,
frightened cry. cry for help.
Carol began to be frightened her
self Where was mother? Why did
nobody answer? What had happen
ed? An eager hand went out for the
despised stick, and Carol hoped
over to the window which she flung
wide, pushing back the closed blinds
so as to lean out and get view of
the walk leading down to the open
garden gate A bicycle lay fat on
the sidewalk just outside the gate,
and Myra, 1.-The girl" was awkwardly
dragging a limp-looking burden up
the graveled walk toward the porch,
screaming pantingly, Miss Caroline,
Miss Caroline!'
Even as she went painfully over
the stairs, Carol wondered why they
called her, and not her mother, who
was always at everybody's beck and
call. Myra was a little thing, and
not over strong. The poor girl who
had fallen from the bicycle was no
feather weight. Myra gladly welcom-
ed the tall, strong girl-even though
she was a crippled one-who came
to her relief. Between them they
got their burden to the porch, and
into the big "Cape Cod" hammock,
and then Carol hobbled quickly to
the telephone and summoned a doc
tor
Two weeks later Carol and her
mother sat in her room talking over
the future of the pale little shop girl
who lay helpless in the next room
the accident.
IF you had been here, mother,
perhaps you could have helped her
quicker. or better, or something"
groaned Carol, remorsefully "Myra
is so little and / was so awkward
with-this!" indicating the crutch
which was now her constant compan-
ion.
Her mothers gaze rested almost
lovingly for an instant on the symbol
of Carols lifelong trouble
II think it was meant that I
shouldn't be here, DEAR" she answer
ed, gently. 81 had just gone down to
the pasture for some ripe berries for
you, and so I didn't hear any one
calling, but you did all that any one
could have done-between you. And
you have been taking care of her
ever since"
81 haven't been able to do much
vet" said Carol. But, mother
well, dear?" her mother prompt
ed, noticing the usefulness of the
suspended appeal
why couldn't we-yes, T." she
added, boldly. She's going to be
another one just like-me," she al
most whispered, touching the crutch