Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1914-05-29

1
d cred in and out all dav, and the
sunshine played about, as the
children did hunting eggs. 1t
was full of sweet odors from the
hayfield on one side and the ap-
pie orchard on the other; and the
little Virginia girl, whose swing
dangled from one of the lower
beans, had no idea that any body
in the world had higher claim
on it than she had
What was her name, grandma?
Her name said the old lady,
looking startled her name was
Nancy, of course
And she went out to swing
one day. prompted the listener.
"She went out to swing one
day, determined to work up,
until she touched the beam. She
was very strong and very skill
full. She put her little bare feet
on the board seat, seized the rope
high up, gave a tilt this side and
that. and was off. Do you know
how to work up'-how to bend
the knees and straighten them
again with a jerk that sends the
obedient swing fly ing through
the air? Nancy came so near to
the beam that its cobwebby dust
sitted down in her eyes (not the
beam she was hanging to. you
know, but another). So close,
and yet NOT to touch! Ambitious
little goose! she suddenly threw
out her hand, and struck the
great log with her fist. But the
loosened rope swung away from
her. the board tilted, she hung
only by one little hand in the
air, and soon the impetus of the
swing jerked that hold loose and
she fell
Abr cried the little girls, with
sob of pain-'ah, grandma.
was she killed?'
No, not killed, but sometimes
in the long winter months that
followed, when she was weary
and racked with pain, Nancy
wished that she had been killed.
Then this little crutch made for
her at carpenters shop on the
plantation, and padded on top,
and
Painted red?' interrupted
Anita.
No, not then. Nobody had
ever heard of painting crutch
red; but one rainy day like this,
when poor little Nancy felt SO
tired and sad, and had no hope
to cheer her, but lay on the
couch and counted how many
long months must pass before she
could run and walk again, her
mother came and knelt down by
her-dear, sweet, angelic mother!
(what made grandmother's voice
sound so queer, they wondered)
and said. Mother would do
anything in. the world to please
her little daughter. Would
you, mother?' cried Nancy, start
ing up from her pillow, would
you let me read in your diary! 4
The mother turned red for a
minute. while the little cripple
watched her eagerly. Then she
got up and went to the old fash
toned secretary with sliding
doors, and brought back a large
red morocco book with brass
clasp, and put it in Nancy's
hands. 1t had been the dream
of the child's life to read what
mother wrote every night in this
book. l do not think she count
her fall too high a price to pay
for it.
You may read that red
book yourselves some day, my
darlings, and find out how your
blessed great-grandmother lived
and loved. But one page in it
made a difference in that little
readers whole life. 1t said:
Our Nancy is bearing her pain
like a hero. When l see her
smooth little twitching face and
smile up at me, thank God for
her brave spirit, and take her for
my teacher. l shall be better
woman for watching her.
After that rainy day, and
after reading that brass bound
morocco book, Nancy was never
sad or dreary again. She ac-
tually had the little crutch pain
ted red, in token of her gay
spirits; and, wherever its tip-tap
was heard (and It sounded on
those floors for almost two years.
a merry sound of laughter and
chatter was pretty sure to follow
so sweet was it to the child to
win such dear praise, and to
know that mother counted her a
blessing for which to thank God
The story was ended; and ia a
twinkling the little red crutch
fell, resounding, to the floor,
while two pairs of soft arms held
grandmother in a tight embrace.
o granny, dear! we've caught
you now! You were little Nancy,
and the crutch was yours. -
Sunday School Times.