This happiness in her life added much to mine, and it came to pass that the duty which had seemed such a bitter task, became a pleasure.  As the days lengthened, chum Charlie and I kept earlier hours, and crept closer to the heart of nature.  We read the signs of the day in the dawn tints; watched the coyotes and other night prowlers slink back to their lairs; saw where the various birds went to housekeeping, and how they cared for their young; knew them also by their call and song.  We could show where Johnnie-jump-ups and baby-blue-eyes grew thickest; where the cream cups were largest; and where the wild forget-me-nots blossomed.  We explored each nook and corner for miles around, and felt that everything that God had made and man had not put his mark upon was ours.

The aged boughs heaped by the wind in wild confusion about the maimed and storm-beaten tree-trunks seemed to assume fantastic shapes and expressions as we approached from different directions, or viewed them under light and shadow of changing weather.  Gnarled and twisted, they became elves and goblins, and the huge piles of storm wreckage were transformed into weird old ruins and deserted castles like those which grandma had described to me in legends of the Rhine.  At twilight I was often afraid to pass, lest giants and ghosts should show themselves between uncanny arches.  Then all that was needed was a low cluck to Charlie, and off he would start on a run past imaginary dangers.

It was late in the Spring when grandma gave back my “girl clothes” and wearily told me she had hired a boy to drive in the cows, and a man to help to milk; and that Georgia was to look after the house, and I to take her own place in the corrals, because she was sick and would have to be cupped and bled before she could be better.

Grandpa came home early next day and everything was ready for the treatment immediately after the noon meal.  Grandma looked so grave, and gave so many instructions about household and dairy matters, that Georgia and I feared that we might lose her.  I verily believe we would have slipped away during the operation, had grandpa not commanded us to stay near, as he might need assistance.  In dread we watched every movement, saw what made grandma’s face pale, and where the sore spots were.  Indeed our sympathies were so strained, our fingers fumbled awkwardly as we adjusted the covers about her weakened form.

As soon as her illness became known, neighbors came from far and near to help with the dairy work or nursing; and keen was their disappointment when she replied, “I thank you for your kind offers, but the children are handy and know my ways.”

Regularly she asked me about the cows, and if the goats had been milked, the eggs gathered, and the pigs fed.  She remembered and planned the work, but did not regain strength as rapidly as she wished; nor did she resume her place in the corrals, even after she was up and around, but had a way of coming unexpectedly to see if her instructions were being carried out.